Chapter 1: "Misplayed"
A/N: i don't own any of the characters in the warcraft-verse and i do not own Warcraft.
Location: Argus
The ruined council room was dim, the green fire illuminating the twelve empty seats. The marble of which the grand chairs were made of, had cracks and claw marks, both new and old. The chairs encircled an even greater table, made from the very stone that was beneath the keep, even now it shone with hope, that someday the Legion would lose its grasp on the darkened planet of the Eredar, home to the draenei who fled it so long ago.
Aside from the corrupted green flames, another light gave its blessing- before the forsaken council was a window, taller than any spire and the length spread across the entire chamber, quenching the shadows that lurked in the corners of the grand design that was the council. Though no longer in use of the earlier inhabitants, a few found it useful for a meeting, even though the majority didn't see the point, when other locations would do just fine, saving time for travel essentially. However, one individual insisted on using that specific chamber in the capital named Mac'Aree for topics- concerning the Legion. The same individual mentioned before looked to the sky, observing the sky carefully, its defiled grace somehow was still beautiful, at least that is what Kil'Jaeden chose to believe.
He was standing on the railing. The square plaza beneath the tower was swarming with demons of all kinds, Beholders, Mo'args, infernals- Every kind were present, at the ready for any command given to break their chaotic activities. Such involving fighting one another or simply destroy the remains of the once great city, with their demonic taint and careless use of dark magic.
Kil'Jaeden stared into the masses of minions, he was in deep thought- considering the campaign on the alternate Draenor, it had been another failure. Or was it? A failure that lead to a better direction of actions. Archimonde's defeat at the citadel was indeed a setback, yet it did very well in adding fuel to Kil'Jaeden's schemes. Now he would have the support of many, he's fellow Demon Lords and the Nathrezim had been diverted from this path, for an seemingly easier triumph. Yet, the failure of yesterday was the success of today.
The Supreme Commander smiled at this. Long had the project been denied by lesser Lords of the Legion, shunned by Archimonde himself, believing it to be a desperate move. Even so, Archimonde managed to do his part in his final moments, sending the orc back into the reality that mattered most, to prepare for the invasion of Azeroth.
This time, dear brother mine, you are truly doomed. Thought Kil'Jaeden to himself, his gleefulness showing in his fiery red eyes, waving his wings softly. He was at peace, fantasizing the utter destruction of the mortal world, avenging the betrayal he felt since the day the draenei fled, blindly led by the vile Eredar Kil'jaeden once considered his own brother, Velen. At the end, his dreamworld was been cut short by a disturbance and once again, he returned to the present, standing yet again over the howling masses of demons. The double door to the council chamber had been swung open and a smaller but maleficent figure made his entrance.
"What is it, Mal'Ganis?" Inquired the deceiver, glancing briefly at the dreadlord before reluctantly gazing again at the battalion below.
The dreadlord's steps were silent, compared to his frame, his long claws ravaging the great table as he strode past it, with moderate haste, his fel-green eyes fixed on Kil'Jaeden's winged back as he spoke in a mild but disciplined tone.
"The preparations are coming along swiftly, even ahead of the schedule. We will be able to connect the portals when the orc commences the ritual of summoning."
Kil'Jaeden faced his fellow demon at this, his hooves echoing as he turned, a fanged smirk was on his frontier- and Mal'Ganis saw small satisfaction in his master's eyes.
"I am truly delighted. The master will be pleased as well, though it is only the beginning."
"The mortal realm of Azeroth stands no chance, their cries for mercy will feed the legion for decades." Said the infamous Nathrezim reassuringly, laying his clawed right hand on the back of one chair, squeezing the rough stone, small cracks emerging from under his hand.
Kil'Jaeden's smile fainted and unconsciously moved his hand to his chest, grasping for his amulet, lost at the Sunwell Plateau years ago. A small fire roamed the demonlord's red eyes, Mal'Ganis could tell the different aura collapsing on the council-chamber. The dreadlord cautiously let go of the chair, crossing his arms.
Mal'Ganis knew what the Supreme would ask, and voiced his concerns with flat interest. "The civil war between the Annihilans are singing their last verse, Azgalor's influence has been slipping since Mannoroth's return to the twisting nether. We will expect the Demon King's full recovery in a matter of weeks. However, I incline my brethren are more than willing to end this-"
"And have you and your kin law them like haguuls?" Interrupted the Demon Lord, raising his otherworldly voice. Mal'Ganis tried in vain to correct his master's suspicions but his efforts fell on deaf ears. Kil'Jaeden dismissively gestured the Nathrezim to stop with a wave of his hand and hinting it with his now nonchalant look.
Kil'jaeden felt almost offended by this pathetic attempt at manipulating such a being as himself to agree on a dreadlord's intervention upon the Pitlords inner affairs. How long had they- the Nathrezim played this 'game' the Eredar wondered as he had before. They were good at this specific talent for being the puppeteer and not the puppet. Many eons had they turned one civilization against another, and weakening the defenses of the targeted world in preparation for a possible invasion. Countless worlds had been laid devastated and in ruin in a matter of months, not because of the masses of storming demons, but the cunning sabotage the Dreadlords provided. They were one of the better tools, than brute force and fire, if the resistance was well equipped for war. Mal'Ganis was famous within the general community as well as the Nathrezim hierarchy for his infiltration and mind-wrenching schemes to create panic and dispute- dividing and destroying the creatures' alliances with each other. Leaving them vulnerable to the Burning Legion.
"My Lord?" the question railroaded Kil'jaeden's train of thought and blinked multiple times before looking at Mal'Ganis.
When the Nathrezim saw he had his superior's full attention he continued onward with his report. Ending with the one thing, which had the deceiver's interest fully.
"One of our voidwalkers found Lord Archimonde's essence and is guarding him as we speak, the minion states Archimonde will be well enough for traveling, his destination Argus I assume."
Kil'jaeden's eyes narrowed and had the tinniest frown on his lips, his burning gaze saw to the west, a black cosmic cloud was nearing in the horizon.
"Indubitably…" said the Supreme Command of the Burning Legion, walking yet again to the edge of the grand window.
The dreadlord's hooves echoing as Mal'Ganis left the chamber.