A/N: I'll be honest, I only went to Ulduar in MoP/WoD (can't even remember!) so obviously it was easy, and thus difficult for me to write it from the viewpoints of those who encountered it when it was current, in Wrath. Still, I did google the fight and everything so I hope I didn't fudge it up too much! I wrote this several months ago but only rediscovered it just, and decided to post it anyway.
The main point of this fic wasn't so much to detail the fight and mechanics etc., but mainly as a fun and interesting exercise to explore the inner thoughts and emotions of those involved. Enjoy!
Our eyes looked upon Brann with weariness as he briefed us. His dwarven commands echoed throughout the desolate, cavernous halls as we stood by a makeshift camp. We had lost many good, fine men and women in Ulduar already, and now we looked across each other with the quiet understanding and resignation that our lives were now forfeit. A general sense of distraction spread throughout the adventurers as someone shuffled their feet, someone coughed... I found myself distracted, too, as I espied the priests from the corner of my eye. They had the task of honouring the dead and tending to the injured, of which there were few, for those injured usually succumbed; there was no room for error, not here, not now.
The lights from the oil lamps the priests carried cast eerie shadows on the cool walls. Instinctively my eyes traced lines where there were none, to the ceiling of the cavernous hall we were in. It was vast and desolate - and cold. I wrapped my cloak about myself and huddled closer to the group for warmth.
The tactics of defeating Yogg-Saron were clear, and the usual warnings were given out. As the group was dispersed with twenty minutes to get ready to move, Laralos came up to me.
"So this is it, eh?" The night elf druid gave me a small smile.
"Yea." I averted my gaze as thoughts of my wife back home filled my mind. I let my eyes rest upon several Horde sitting around a campfire, engaged in quiet chatter. To think that faith and common good has brought us here, we who were enemies in name.
"I used to wonder, too." Laralos caught my eye. "Until I joined the Expedition. But perhaps we have more in common than we think."
"Maybe." I looked wistfully into the distance. Into green fields with ripe trees and the smell of fresh flowers and crushed grass. Stormwind stood tall and proud, ensconced safely in her haven of hills and sea, and at her foot, Goldshire, bright and shining and bustling with life.
Laralos sat down and closed his eyes, and I knew then that he was uttering a silent prayer. Never a believer, I simply kept silent and repeated the words that Raena had told me the night before I had left for Northrend, six months since. If I closed my eyes I could still feel her body against mine, my arms around her curved hips, her belly round with child. Our child.
I smiled. Would I return in time for the baby's birth? How long do babies stay in a woman's tummy anyway? We had already thought of a name for the child before I had left: Mabel if she was a girl, and Rogen if he was a boy. The mere thought that I was going to be a father filled me with light-hearted joy scarcely found in this forgotten and forbidden place, and I felt almost guilty at my happiness in the midst of sorrow and anguish.
A roll call snapped me back to attention as I gathered my thoughts and my belongings. Now was not the time for dreaming. My hefty tome I picked off the ground and held in my left hand; on my right I held my staff. I gave Laralos a wave as he joined the healers. In rank and file we stood before Brann once more, this time in a more solemn and serious fashion. We were to enter the prison of Yogg-Saron and slay it, whatever the cost. I counted barely more than a hundred people in the room, and the room fell deadly silent as Brann gave the command to advance.
For a moment I thought nobody would move, and that perhaps we could all retreat and head home to warm beds and good food, and forget all about the raid. Alas! The mind is a dangerous thing when left idle and unchecked, and I chided myself for having such irresponsible and unbecoming thoughts. I was one of the best mages in Stormwind, and was thus "volunteered" on this mission by the tower of mages in the city. It was an honour to be sent as a representative of the human mages - and it would be an even greater honour to die in Ulduar.
The raid of adventurers, led by Brann and the prospectors, had moved forward by then, but I was surprised when I stopped short. No. I did not want to die in Ulduar. I corrected myself mentally as I walked forward, all thoughts focused on the fight to come. Brann's instructions rang loud in my head as we made our way down a narrow passageway and then -
He stopped and turned to face us.
"The time has come." He paused as he gazed across all of us. "It is our duty to kill it – once and for all. Never will it rise to our world once more!" A quick war cry from Brann got swords, axes, bows, staves, and daggers in the air as a quick but triumphant cheer spread across the raid. Despite my inner misgivings, I cheered, too.
And then he opened the doors to the accursed chamber.
We filed in quickly in our formations – the plate-wearers in front, the healers at the back, and everyone else somewhere in between. I was struck immediately by the immensity of the chamber. The walls were tall and cold, and in the middle of the chamber a disgusting pool and a –
A lone vrykul carved a desolate figure as she hovered right above the pool. She seemed ambivalent of our presence even as some of the prospectors crept closer to investigate. It was an altogether strange sight.
"Stay back," Brann snarled at his curious friends. I tightened my grip on my staff and forced myself to stay calm. I could feel my heartbeat thudding already in my ears and I looked at my fellow adventurers. I found no comfort in them, for many were as frightened as I was. I caught Laralos' eye then, and he gave a small reassuring smile. I reciprocated, even as mine did not reach my eyes.
"The time to strike at the head of the beast will soon be upon us! Focus your anger and hatred on his minions!" The vrykul yelled as she threw back her head.
A lone prospector crept forward even as we hung back, cautious. Was she friend or foe? Some of the veterans furrowed their eyebrows, altogether perplexed by this sudden turn of events.
Without further warning, a great beast appeared and was immediately charged upon by the plate-wearers. I prepared my opener spell as I strove to remain calm. In my mind's eye I saw my wife once more, pregnant with child outside our home in Goldshire. She was waiting by the fence across the field, past her prized mageblooms and by the old mailbox already falling apart, that I swore I would fix but kept forgetting.
A shrill war cry caused me to focus once more as I realised that the Guardian had fallen but yet another had taken its place. On my left an orc warlock concentrated on a spell, and on my right, a night elven hunter was preparing another arrow.
I could see a warrior fall, his sword arm almost cleaved in half by the brute force of the Guardian but almost instantly he was helped to his feet and I watched incredulous as his torn flesh was knitted back under the watchful eyes of the healers at the back. Tendon by tendon, muscle by muscle, until it was whole once more, with nary but a small scar in its place. I had seen it dozens of times before, of course, but healing never ceased to amaze me. The sheer power and beauty of it – it took my breath away.
The vrykul strangely seemed unaffected by all the fighting. "Yes! YES! Show them no mercy! Give no pause to your attacks!" Instead she egged us on with almost manic desperation and I watched as she threw "blessings" - streaks of yellow light tinted with a purple stain - upon random members of the raid.
One streak hit me even as I tried to dodge and I could feel it cauterise my skin. My skin was burning where it hit me and I screamed. I could feel the infusion of unholy shadow magics as – the fire on my skin was extinguished as quickly as it came by soothing healing like water. I turned to the healers briefly and saw that Laralos had cast a rejuvenation spell on me. Across the raid I could see others, all struck too by the vrykul's unholy "blessing" - more like a curse.
Another Guardian appeared, and Brann quickly gave the command to kill them near the vrykul. Some hung back, obviously, for it seemed counter-intuitive. But a deeper, more troubling part of my mind told me that she was no friend. After the initial inertia, the plate-wearers then wasted no time in running towards the vrykul, who hovered like an ephemeral ghost. An ephemeral vision.
A vision...
I heard the warlock mutter choice expletives as he glared at the vrykul, as if sudden realisation had dawned upon him. I turned to the warlock next to me. "You knew?"
"Guessed as much." The orc replied in heavily accented Common as he raised an eyebrow and simply grunted as he cast another shadow bolt.
"You didn't say?" My voice took on a conspiratorial tone, coloured slightly with hysteria - and fear.
"Well what do you want me to say, mage?" He gave me a resigned look. "We were all doomed the moment we entered this place."
"The prison?" My voice must have raised an octave as I whipped back from a frost bolt to look at him.
"No." His voice dropped to a whisper, and if I had not known better I would have thought he was afraid. "Ulduar."
Fear rooted me then as the colour drained from my face. There he was, echoing my very fears that until now had remained hidden and concealed behind my mask of well-meaning subtlety and false bravado.
My thoughts were interrupted by the voice of the vrykul, loud and echoing in the chamber. "Let hatred and rage guide your blows!"
Yes. That was it. I closed my eyes briefly and inhaled, and when I exhaled I flung my frost bolt with as much strength as I could muster. I could feel my blood pulsing through my veins with the rush of sheer adrenaline. I executed my rotations properly and flung bolt after bolt, my elemental next to me likewise doing the same. My heart thudded in my head like a mad war drum as the flames of war were fanned by the vrykul's strong words.
"You be careful, mage." The warlock looked at me with a strange look on his face as he paused slightly between two spells. His simple words shook me out of my reverie as I snapped back to look at him.
Another Guardian appeared and I took little heed of the warlock's words as I relished in my power. I felt powerful. Invincible. As though nothing could stop me. I was tempted to burst my cooldowns and lay down powerful spell after powerful spell but I barely managed to stop myself. No. Save that for Yogg-Saron itself.
This was what I lived for, I reminded myself. The sheer unbridled power of magic. Ha! If only my mentor could see me now. He never believed in my powers and my magics but this would show him. This would show all of them!
And then a strong hand on my arm. Instinctively I jerked back and dropped my tome as I glared at the offender.
"It's dead." The warlock looked at me, his eyes bloodshot with nights of countless sleep, learning, practicing, honing his magics. I simply shot him a look as I picked up my tome from the floor. Who was a warlock to chide me anyway?
Silence descended upon the chamber as we all looked toward the vrykul. Brann motioned everybody to step back as the entire chamber shook. Liquid from the pool splashed out as the vrykul rose higher in the air. I felt sick to my stomach, and tightened my grip on my staff.
"I am the lucid dream." Her voice, like silk, echoed throughout the shaking chamber as everybody glanced around in fear and confusion. Brann, his prospectors and the veterans tried to calm everybody down.
"The monster in your nightmares." Her voice took on a deeper tenor and sent chills crawling up my spine. Instinctively the plate-wearers stood protectively in front, their arms right about their weapons, ready for Brann's command.
For whatever reason Brann held back.
"The fiend of a thousand faces." Her voice changed to a far deeper and sinister one that made my hair stand on end. Across the room eyes widened in fear and terror as they realised what was to come.
"Cower before my true form." She/it sudden transformed and the illusion was removed and –
We found ourselves staring directly into the eyes of The Beast itself. It was massive, a blob of eyes and mouths sitting in its glowing pool of death.
"BOW DOWN BEFORE THE GOD OF DEATH!"
Brann gave a guttural war cry and the plate-wearers charged toward it. Monstrous tentacles appeared from the ground, towering and looming, picking up any who happened to be nearby. Amidst the hysteria I collected my thoughts and prepared a spell.
The magic words came out of my lips effortlessly and flawlessly as a bolt spiralled towards the nearest tentacle who had grabbed a fellow adventurer. I repeated my spells, slowly, carefully, deliberately. I was a killing machine honed to a precise edge.
Over at the other end of the room Brann was yelling orders - but I could care less. I could not help myself – I smirked as I yelled out the final incantation, the final bolt that slewed the tentacle and released the unfortunate draenei. A small, chiding voice at the back of my head reminded me to pay attention, to listen, to be careful. This was the lair - no, the PRISON - of Yogg-Saron, and any mistake could cost me my life.
I subdued the voice quickly. This was what I lived for. The power in my hands, the magic in my touch - I was unstoppable! I was invincible. I cackled.
"Mage."
My eyes widened as I froze and looked to my left. I would recognise that voice anywhere!
"Raena," I breathed. I was a million miles from home but yet here she was. No. I shook my head. A simple, deceitful illusion. I brushed her aside.
"You're a mage, aren't you?" My hand went through her incorporeal form as she twirled her hair and giggled. And there we were – by the canals of Stormwind. The day we first met. I shook my head. No. This couldn't be happening! I was in Ulduar, fighting -
"Mage."
I snarled as I tightened the grip on my staff and popped my cooldowns. I struck the Beast with all my fury and night as I cursed it for daring to bring a fragmental illusion of Raena into this accursed place. How dare it?
"Mage."
My head pounded from the sheer exertion and I pressed my fingers against my temples. Amidst the cacophony of voices in my head I heard Brann yelling that the portals to Yogg-Saron's mind had opened. I stumbled as I struggled to regain control of myself. I could feel myself slipping away, slowly but –
"Mage!" The orc warlock snarled at me as his rough green hands gripped my shoulders. "Grow a backbone and open your eyes! Resist the illusions and the whispers in your mind!" I was brought back to my senses as I looked at the warlock, my eyes wide with fear and exhilaration and something more. I simply gulped.
"Stay close." He said simply. "Focus on the task at hand. Think of nothing else." I nodded, dazed.
I furrowed my eyebrows as I prepared my opener once more and concentrated on the massive, bulging mass in the centre of the room. Every attack that hit the creature unleashed a new wave of smell upon the senses. It was acrid and foul and it smelt rotten, sick like death but yet sweet like rest.
Rest. Eternal repose. I stopped short, mortified at my train of thoughts. I chided myself mentally and instead gave in to my magics as a form of diversion and distraction from the illusions and images that crept into my mind.
The portals closed once more, leaving the rest of us outside to deal with the body while those within dealt with the mind. I concentrated on my spells, on my rotations, on my target.
When finally the people from the portals returned we were all weary. Some had fallen and many more were injured, including myself. Our minds were growing weaker with every passing minute, and we knew we had not much more time. Brann gave the command to put in all we've got, and we obeyed.
Suddenly from nowhere more Guardians appeared and lunged upon us. From the corner of my eye I saw some attacking the healers – attacking Laralos.
My eyes widened. "Laralos!" Only to turn around and realise that one was behind me. Its incorporeal arm was within my body before I could utter a spell, and I fell on the floor before I could close my eyes.
"Theran." A soft voice. "Theran..."
I opened my eyes slowly as I looked about my surroundings.
"Rae-Raena?" I squinted as my vision cleared. I sat up too abruptly, and my head spun.
"Relax." Raena pushed me back under the comforter gently. "You're safe here, with me."
"Where –" Realisation dawned upon me as I remembered. "Ulduar!" I yelled, looking about me for my staff. "What happened?"
"You were injured. They brought you back."
"H-how?" I shook my head in disbelief.
"The mages. They helped you." Raena smiled softly as she got up and brought me a cup of warm tea.
I pushed off the blanket and lifted up my shirt to look at my chest. There was nary a scar. I shook my head in disbelief.
"It can't be. I saw the hand go through me. It went right through me!" My voice grew hysterical as I sat up and grabbed her arms.
"Theran, relax." Raena said simply as she held my hands in hers and placed them on her lap, and then on her flat belly.
"Our child? Where's our child?"
Raena pulled me up gently as I stood up and nearly stumbled. Slowly she brought me to the tiny nursery next door. With a big smile on her face, she brought me to the crib at the far end.
"Look at him, isn't he beautiful?"
And there he was in the crib, a healthy boy that was borne into this world not two weeks since. I held him close as I kissed Raena on her forehead.
"I'm sorry for not being here." We stood there in silence as I inhaled her sweet scent, Rogen between us.
"I need to see the mages." I pulled away, determined. I was a husband and now father, but I still had duties to the Stormwind mages. I kissed Rogen and snuggled him tight and close before I placed him in the crib. Gathering my cloak from the hanger next to the door I promised to return once I was done.
"Theran. Don't leave me," Raena looked at me pleadingly as she grabbed my hand in hers.
"Raena, just give me awhile."
Raena tiptoed and her lips met mine with explosive passion. She kissed me then, full and long and deep. We kissed, and when I finally pulled away for air, I was shocked to discover the sudden passion lurking beneath my Raena. Passion that I had not seen in a long while... I pulled her close and kissed her back with a vengeance as I slowly guided us back to the bedroom. The mages can wait. I was just glad to be home, with my beautiful wife and child. Gently I pushed her down upon the bed, our bodies already eager, ready, and waiting.
"I love you Raena." I whispered as I gazed into her eyes, blue with love and passion.
"I love you too, Theran." Her voice suddenly took on a deeper tenor as her eyes widened and a smirk replaced the demure smile on her face. I froze. The mirth and love in her blue eyes was gone, replaced by a bottomless depth of evil and malice. I shrank back, frightened.
"So, very much. I love seeing you like this." She/it paused as I jumped out of the bed and grabbed my staff. "I love seeing you suffer."
"No! Get away!" I screamed as I backed off and fell to my knees.
In front of my eyes the illusion lifted and there I was again, in Ulduar. I shook my head as I realised I was lying face up on the floor. Laralos was hanging over me, mouthing words frantically that I couldn't hear. A dull pressure pressed upon my ears as I strained to look about, my vision growing increasingly blurry. I struggled to move my hand until I realised that there was a big gaping wound in my chest where the Guardian's hand had gone right through my body.
Some distance away I spotted the warlock slewing the foul beast. He quickly ran over to me and placed reassuring arms on mine as Laralos and a blood elf paladin pumped healing spells into me. Only then did realisation dawn upon me. My breathing grew ragged as the pool of blood – my blood, I realised with growing mortification – grew bigger, a brilliant crimson red flooding my robes and staining the ground. The world fell silent then as a gnome priest ran over to help, all three healers talking to each other frantically, Laralos the most desperate of them all. I could feel the healing surge, strong in my body even as my life ebbed out of me.
A million thoughts flashed through my mind as I realised I was not ready to die. I had so much to live for – I had just barely scratched the surface of magics and I had a beautiful wife and a beautiful child on the way – I could not die. I could feel hot tears stain my cheeks as Laralos' tears mingled with mine. Through my blurry vision I thought I could make out the solemn face of the warlock, his face bowed in sorrowful respect.
The healing spells surged through my body, a current of cold amid the fire that blazed within me. Then the paladin whipped out a heavy ornate ceremonial tome, the gold from it glinting and shining and beautiful – so beautiful – even in my blurry vision. He placed his hand gently on my forehead, his soothing touch like balm to my wounds. He read out words from the tome in a language I did not understand, the words soft and calming and peaceful.
I could feel my eyelids getting heavier, my vision increasingly blurred as my tears stang my eyes and I felt myself getting sleepy...so very sleepy...
Across the green fields with ripe trees and the smell of fresh flowers and crushed grass I spotted Raena, radiant like the sun as she waved me over. I smiled as I ran to her from across the field, my robes flying over the grass as I threw down my staff and tome and shrugged off my bag pack, thankful at long last that I was home, forever this time.