The Menethil Oathsworn

Prologue: Harbinger

She had forsaken everything for that idiot's 'ingenious' plot to save all of Azeroth. Now, he was nothing but a rotting corpse in a distant reality, and it was the result of his own greed. Murozond had lost the true purpose of the Infinite Dragonflight, renouncing their intentions to save their world in a desperate bid for immortality. She couldn't help but snicker. Murozond was always an idealist, even before he was warped into his darkened, cruel state. And she had sworn herself to his cause… whatever that cause may have been. But he was dead now. And she was leader of the Infinite Dragonflight.

"Harbinger." Her hissing advisor brought her back to the situation before her. Murozond's closest confidants were reluctant to relinquish power over to her following the death of their glorious leader, but they had little say in the matter. "Is there something amusing you'd like to share with us?"

"I'm afraid you would find my humor tasteless, Doramun," Harbinger replied with a hint of venom in her voice. "As for the discussion at hand, I'm afraid you are all quite helpless."

"Pardon?" Zarion growled in surprise. Harbinger couldn't help but smirk.

"You all suffer from the same flaws that Murozond befell. You think that large change is necessary to wrest control of the Timeways from the Bronze Dragonflight." Harbinger stood up and began pacing around her advisers, who were less than thrilled by her accusation. "I believe the humans have a saying for this. The wings of a butterfly can cause a hurricane, yes?"

"Cut the spectacle and speak your mind, Harbinger!" Doramun roared in frustration.

"It's quite simple, really. We don't need to kill Arthas or stop Medivh. It's too overt, Nozdormu will pick up on our movements and send forces to stop us. No, we only need to make a single change, and a small one at that. One that Nozdormu will gloss over as a glitch. And by the time he realizes what we've done, it'll be too late."

"I imagine you've already constructed some kind of plan?" Zarion whispered softly.

"You'd be correct." Harbinger conjured a small sphere of what appeared to be fog that drifted between her and the two confidants. Within the fog was a picture of a man. "This is Darren Artius. He was a human noble paladin who fought alongside Lothar during the Assault on Blackrock Spire. He did not survive."

"And you are suggesting we preserve this man's life? To what end?" Zarion asked, clearly intrigued by what Harbinger was suggesting.

"Darren Artius himself is insignificant. He will go on to become a useless drunk that amounts to nothing. It is his son, Loghain, that I am primarily interested in. When news of Darren's death reached Lordaeron, it inspired Loghain to join the Royal Army. He later perished to the Scourge when Arthas betrayed his father. Wasted potential." The image in the fog began to shift and swirl, revealing the young Loghain standing triumphantly over what appeared to be the ruins of Naxxramas. "With Darren alive, Loghain goes on to become one of the greatest heroes to ever walk this earth. With a bit of luck, perhaps he will lead our forces to stand against the Legion."

"And what makes you so certain that this will work?" Doramun growled. Clearly, he was far more skeptical than his sister.

"I'm not certain." The statement confused Zarion and infuriated Doramun. "You need to stop looking at the Timeways as an absolute that can be controlled. It flows in a fashion that cannot be manipulated. We can only guess its path and hope it benefits us."

"Murozond would never have -" Zarion began, but Harbinger raised a silver talon.

"Murozond is dead, Zarion. You would do well to remember how that happened and avoid making the same mistakes." Harbinger turned towards Doramun, who was a bit shocked after the accusation. "Doramun, you are to notify the Timewalkers of this temporal change and have them come up with some kind of prediction."

"Of course, Harbinger," Doramun hissed, his voice full of disdain. "I will additionally dispatch an agent to save the life of this… Darren."

"No." The word rang through the halls of the Infinite Redoubt. "I will handle the change myself. If we are to ensure that Nozdormu is to remain oblivious to the change, then this task must be performed flawlessly. I trust no one short of myself to accomplish this."

"As… as you wish," Doramun muttered, hanging his head in defeat. Harbinger couldn't help but grin at the arrogant upstart being put in his place.

"Now leave me. I have much to prepare for." Zarion and Doramun reluctantly agreed, phasing out of existence, leaving Harbinger alone within the Infinite Redoubt. "There's only one… pest I need to take care of."

"Sir," Darren muttered as they approached the Spire.

"Yes, Sir Artius?" Lothar answered as they advanced forward steadily.

"It's too quiet for my liking," the paladin continued, drawing his hammer. "The scouts said this place was crawling with orcs mere days ago. Where are the bloody green skins?"

"I've been asking myself that question for about an hour, Darren," Lothar replied with a smirk. "If every instinct says ambush, then it is safe to wager that's exactly what we're walking into." Darren looked at Lothar with confusion.

"Then why exactly are we willingly walking towards an ambush, sir?"

"Because it's only an ambush if you don't know it's there, Sir Artius," Lothar answered the paladin's incessant question, and then immediately called forth his trusted lieutenant, Turalyon. "Turalyon, ensure everyone is on high alert. I expect combat shortly."

"As you wish, Commander," Turalyon bowed slightly, and turned towards the rear of their advancing army. He didn't get far before a savage war cry rang through the valley they were marching through. Darren barely saw the green orcish archer before an arrow was launched directly at him…

As soon as Harbinger heard the war cry, she slowed down the temporal space around her and began to navigate through the frozen human army. A single man, an extremely powerful paladin at the forefront of their formation, was staring at an arrow that was undoubtedly going to pierce the bridge of his nose as soon as she released the Timeway from her grasp. Harbinger reached for the arrow, contemplating how such a crude tool could ultimately lead to the entire destruction of Azeroth.

"Freezing time isn't as discreet as you think it is," came a high pitched, feminine voice from behind Harbinger. "If you were aiming for subtlety, you failed. Spectacularly."

"I could have accomplished this without freezing time, Chronormu," Harbinger commented without looking behind her. "But that wouldn't have pulled Nozdormu's most cherished and trusted agent away from Wyrmrest."

Chromie was silent for a moment before continuing. "You wanted my attention, Infinite. You have it." Harbinger turned around and smirked at the small little gnome that stood before her.

"You know the fate that befalls all of our kind, no?" Harbinger asked, earning no reaction from Chronormu. "The Infinite aren't a new race of dragons. We're the aged descendants. Just as we all once served Nozdormu, we all will one day serve Murozond. And we all look upon the moment where we initially changed allegiance with… admiration."

"And why, exactly, are you telling me this?" Chromie asked, appearing bored. Harbinger grinned as two Infinite Corruptors appeared on the two flanks of the small Bronze dragon.

"Because one day, Chronormu, you will look upon this day with admiration." Chromie attempted to retreat from the Corruptors, but they had ensnared her with bright silver beams of energy. "You knew this day was coming, Chronormu. You had to."

"Let… me… go!" the small gnome yelped as she struggled against the Corruptors.

Harbinger let out a cruel, sinister laugh. "The Bronze Dragonflight has forgotten the first rule of time! How ironic." Harbinger knelt down next to the struggling gnome with a wide, jagged tooth grin. She took the point of the arrow and ran it across the cheek of Chromie, breaking the skin. A golden ichor ran down her face, dripping onto the black rock that surrounded them. "Time is always borrowed, Chronormu. And the Infinite intends on collecting our dues." Harbinger stood back up and addressed the two Corruptors. "Take her to the Infinite Redoubt. Have Doramun and Zarion… integrate her. I must finish my duties here." They nodded, and just as quickly as they had appeared, they were gone.

Harbinger turned her attention back towards the arrow. "You will remember this day well, Chronormu. I certainly do." And with that, she snapped the arrow and melted into the shadows.

...and snapped cleanly in two. Darren was caught off guard as he was showered in splinters, but shook himself off and turned towards the army behind him. "AMBUSH!" Darren shouted in a bit of panic, though Lothar seemed unphased by the sudden arrival of the orcs. In fact, Lothar appeared to fixate on a single orc that was spearheading the attack. Darren faced the orcs with his hammer drawn, but a glint caught his attention from the corner of his eye. A small golden stain on the otherwise onyx stone was the culprit. Darren shook his head before turning once again towards the battle at hand. He stood alongside Turalyon as the orcish threat close in on them, the two of them unsure whether they'd make it out of this alive...