Hello everyone! Another short story that takes place before Wrath here, this one if sort of a double feature. There's just so much work Arthas, Ner'zhul and Kel'Thuzad need to do before the events of the final Acts and I definitely didn't want characters showing up and everyone saying to themselves "What the hell is he doing here?" Also I just really want to write about Arthas and the main story arc just isn't there yet, sue me. Due to the somewhat recent leak of Blizzard's trademarked name that some speculate to be the next expansion, myself included (and if you pay attention to the lore it was only a matter of time) I have decided to include it later on in the story. It will fit in smoothly. As always, sorry about the grammar, if anything isn't historically accurate let me know, and thank you for all your patience and feedback. I sincerely hope you enjoy it!
Gurubashi Unborn
Arthas and Kel'Thuzad stood around the old Gurubashi crypt and watched as Var'gazul sat up from his sarcophagus. The green mold growing in every crevice reminded Arthas of the green skin these beasts had, Var'gazul, on the other hand, was as pale as a ghost. To Kel'Thuzad the cobwebs made him feel right at home, had the arch lich closed his eyes he could have very readily mistaken the cold air and skittering sounds as Naxxramas. But now was no time for daydreaming.
"So tell me, Var'gazul, what were the attack plans for?" Arthas finally asked. He felt the troll chieftain had had enough time to get acquainted with his surroundings. Time was of the essence.
"The attack plans?" Var'gazul was still far too disoriented to think clearly. Being dead for a few thousand years could do that to a corpse.
"I'm being courteous and not plucking the information from your mind. I've heard it can be very shocking to a fresh corpse."
"This one's not too fresh, my lord," Kel'Thuzad quipped.
Arthas smirked. "You're right. Now tell me, troll."
"Yes...the attack plans," the memory of the assault made Var'gazul's dry, cracked lips mold into somewhat of a smile. "Aru-Talis."
Being fused with an orc that could see the future made for a dull life, but Arthas was genuinely surprised. "Well I'll be a murloc's uncle."
"So it wasn't only legend," Kel'Thuzad muttered.
"Legend? Bah! Aru-Talis was real! It be a legend because the most ancient of night elves didn't want anyone to know about it. About what they done. You think the Highborne was cruel to the night elves, you should have seen how cruel the night elves was to the Tru'tora. That be the native tongue for the race in between troll and night elf. Evolution don't happen overnight, mon. But the Well sure sped it up. The Tru'tora were bigger, faster, and stronger than both the trolls and night elves but the damn night elves had the power of the Well on their side. The Well be too powerful to mess with. The Tru-tora found out the hard way."
"So did the night elves," Arthas quipped.
"So they killed what was left of their lesser selves?" Kel'Thuzad asked.
"Lesser be a harsh word, mon. The night elves were smarter, sure, but the Tru'tora had brute force on their side (Var'gazul flexed what was left of his badly decaying arms). Our gods told us to retake the Well, re-purpose it so we could bring them into this world. So we could herald in a new age of gods and trolls."
"Don't forget the Tru'tora too," Arthas remarked.
"I never forgot the Tru'tora!" Var'gazul snapped. "You never forget your humble beginnings, mon. We made plans, yes, but the sea made sure they never came to be. He washed over our city with a tidal wave the likes of which Azeroth had never seen."
"What happened to Aru-Talis? Why is it just a crater now?" Arthas asked.
"The Tru'tora may not have been as smart, but that is not to say they were not without any wit at all. For years they had been stealing the water from the Well. They knew if they ever going to protect themselves against the night elves they would need the power of the Well. Once the night elves found out they destroyed the entire city."
"Destroyed is a kind word for genocide," Kel'Thuzad said.
"Maybe we should start saying that," Arthas joked. "Little did you know your gods were the Old Gods and only wanted you to have the Well to bring them into this world so they could devour it. Good thing Neptulon did what he did. Just another testament to the sloth of the Titans. You know, the more I find out about the nefarious history of the elves, the more I dislike them."
"As if Illidan and Sylvanas weren't enough," Kel'Thuzad seethed.
"Y'argh!" Var'gazul slung his sarcophagus lid across the room and it shattered into pieces. Once the display of anger was over the ancient troll chieftan looked to Arthas.
"Hmm. Looks like I was inside your head." Arthas commented as he turned around to examine the rest of the room. "Tell me, troll, what other ancient beasts dwell in these caverns?"
"All of 'em," Var'gazul said proudly.
"Excellent. Take me to the ceremonial grounds."
After a quick stroll through Zul'Gurub, the trio found themselves standing atop a tower overlooking the entire troll empire. Arthas gazed out and saw what once ruled the entirety of Azeroth. For a moment the Lich King basked in the ancient power of the Gurubashi. He could see their entire history as if the human had been there, their triumphs over the natural world, their wars with the insectoids of the west and the great tidal wave that destroyed everything.
Suddenly, with one great thrust, Arthas commanded Frostmourne through the tan stones of the temple he stood atop and knelt behind his great runeblade. Slowly, the runes of Frostmourne shone brilliantly and countless souls could be heard whispering in the air. Yet these souls were not from Frostmourne, but deep within the Zul'Gurub ground.
Great, icy winds from the north swept in and Var'gazul was forced to bunker down or be swept away. The trees flapped madly and the sand swirled intensely until finally it was all over.
"You brought me back my people, mon." Var'gazul sounded sincere. "What do I owe ya?"
"Gurubashi has been unborn. Your souls bound to Frostmourne, your will to mine. From here on out the Gurubashi pledge their allegiance to the Scourge. You pray to only one god now. The Death God." Arthas said as he watched undead troll after undead troll pour forth from each and every hole of the city.
It didn't take long before the entire Gurubashi empire of so many thousand years ago, those washed away by the great tidal wave, were all standing before the three. There were priests and raptors, oversized berserkers and shadow hunters, magi and warriors. Each and every one a beat-up corpse, a ravished soul, a new soldier in Arthas's faction.
"The Gurubashi are a proud people, their wills not so easily swayed. Especially not by a human. These trolls have never seen one of your kind before," Var'gazul cautioned.
Arthas cracked a wry smile. "All will know the will of the Lich King. Why should death spoil their fun?" He then looked down to his new undead empire and asked, "Who do the Gurubashi serve?!"
"The Scourge!" They all chanted. A unanimous voice that shook the air.
"Now take these new warriors of the Scourge back down to their crypts. I will send an emissary when the time is right," Arthas commanded.
"You will not be coming back for your army?" Var'gazul asked.
Arthas turned to face Kel'Thuzad with somber eyes. The arch lich knew what Arthas meant. By the time he was in need of this force he would be long gone from this world. In fact, so would Kel'Thuzad. The Lich King was ten steps ahead of his own death, something his chief lieutenant marveled at.
"No. My emissary will be much...larger than me. In fact there will be two. I am not sure of the second, but they will prove themselves to you. Mark my words, the Gurubashi empire will have its day to revenge themselves upon the Old Gods who led them to such devastation."
"And what about the Titans," asked the troll.
"It's not the Pantheon I'm worried about, just one individual. Sargeras will make his move in time and I intend to be ready for it. The Old Gods too. We will have to fight on two fronts. Even for the Scourge partnered with the heroes of Azeroth that will be no easy task."
"Partnered?" Kel'Thuzad sounded surprised.
"Yes. I believe that is the plan. Ner'zhul cannot tell yet, but there will come a reckoning to this world, then a revelation, then a betrayal of sorts. Towards the end is where it gets foggy, there is something to happen that distorts even the visions of the great orc. Needless to say when Azeroth is done fighting her battles that will be when someone will pick to strike, I'm just not sure who. The Old Gods are dwindling. Two will be left, but they have a trick up their sleeve, I'm not sure what. But the Scourge will have many tricks to play."
"That's why our acolytes have such large sleeves. I'm glad to hear you think of me as a 'great orc'." Ner'zhul finally chimed in.
Arthas rolled his eyes. "Yes. Yes. But what will happen?"
"I still do not know, boy. You think I'm withholding information?"
The human was quiet for a moment as he thought about the possibilities the future held for all of Azeroth's inhabitants. "What great comrades do the Old Gods still control? Who do they feel is powerful enough to fight even a shattered Azeroth?"
"Some say Illidan.", Kel'Thuzad answered.
"Illidan? He sided with the Legion and the Legion and the Old Gods are not friends by any stretch of the imagination. People say Illidan will return for all kinds of reasons but none make sense. The night elf is dead. End of story. If he returned for the Old Gods I would seriously have to question the hands of fate and their own knowledge of this rhetoric we call life, er, death."
"Well he did side with the Legion but that was only to save his own skin. On Outland he fled to hide from Kil'jaeden. Maybe in an attempt to save his skin again, or perhaps out of spite he would side with the Old Gods. That could make sense," said Kel'Thuzad.
"That makes sense to some degree, I suppose," began Arthas "Does it bother anyone else that the first time Illidan fled to Outland Kil'jaeden tracked him down instantaneously? And why flee to Outland in the first place? Kil'jaeden knew about Draenor before he knew about Azeroth. Why was it when Kil'jaeden visited Outland the first time to reprimand Illidan that he could do it no problem, but all the other times he wanted to visit that planet he had to be summoned? If the first time he showed up he was just an image and could invoke no real retribution then it sounds like Illidan had nothing to fear. If that's the case just make sure no one summons Kil'jaeden and you're good to go. There's no consistency with his powers."
"There's no consistency with anything anymore," Ner'zhul grumbled.
"I know and it vexes me greatly." Arthas frowned.
"Perhaps it's best not to think about it so critically, mon." Var'gazul shrugged.
"If we don't think about it critically then what separates us from everyone else," asked Kel'Thuzad.
"So what do you know," inquired Var'gazul.
"We know Deathwing is biding his time, yet he is not the champion the Old Gods are looking for. We know the mists will clear and the majesty of Pandaria will once again make itself known to the world. We know leading a diverse Horde will lead Garrosh to turn on his own people. You'd think Thrall would know Garrosh is a racist but I guess that one really flew under the radar. But after that it gets-"
"Hazy," Ner'zhul finished. "Garrosh is able to do something that transcends space and time and because of this we cannot tell what happens next. But at least we have a good heading."
Hearing about how Garrosh could do this always put a damper on Kel'Thuzad. The arch lich always thought of himself as one of the greatest casters the planet had ever seen. Sure he could not have seen the future the way the shaman could, or resurrect the dead in scores like the human, but he could do things no other mortal on Azeroth could. How was it that Garrosh could figure something like this out? There was no doubt in Kel'Thuzad's mind that the orc would receive help from a third party.
But who? Who would be mad enough to help Garrosh? What misguided soul would see what he did and think it was a good idea to aid him? Clearly it was another dubious entity within the planet. But there was no one left with such power. Would Garrosh twist the Well to his will? Of course not, the night elves would all be dead before that happened. Or would the power of Y'Shaarj's heart enable him to do something even the Lich King could not?
Even Yogg-Saron had his limits. The Old God was foretold to die at the hands of the heroes of Azeroth. Perhaps some other Old God befriended the orc in the tired plot line of using him to escape. There was much Kel'Thuzad needed to ponder back in Naxxramas. That was, of course, until his own foretold defeat. This, however, did not perplex the arch lich as much as Garrosh did. Arthas's logic made sense. He was to be defeated so he could remain hidden long enough to ride out the travesties of this world unnoticed. Then he would be resurrected again to aid his king in the long awaited battle of the Scourge versus the Burning Legion.
Resurrecting me again, talk about a played out plot, Kel'Thuzad thought to himself.
By nightfall the Gurubashi had crept back in their crypts to await their new master's call. Var'gazul was commissioned with with protecting them once Deathwing returned. Many of the Gurubashi would stir during the Cataclysm but the force the heroes faced would pail in comparison to what waited beneath their feet. Var'gazul was intended to be the sheppard to watch over the flock.
Hakkar the Soulflayer would be summoned, that was something the Lich King did not intend to stop, even at the cost of Gurubashi lives. But these misguided priests of old were not the same as the unborn Gurubashi empire. No one would suspect once these fools were dealt with that something even larger lay beneath.
"You know your duty, troll." Arthas said as he and Kel'Thuzad made their way from Zul'Gurub.
"My lord." Var'gazul grabbed Arthas's plated arm.
After all these years hearing knew members of the Scourge address him like that, it never faded from style. "Yes?"
"I've been dead for thousands of years."
"Yes."
"Why is it that I have no memory of the afterlife?"
Arthas let out a heavy sigh and turned to put his hand on the troll chieftan's shoulder. "This is part of the curse of undeath."
"Is there no afterlife?" Var'gazul's mind was reeling now. All throughout this tremendous event the troll had yet to stop and ponder what had happened to himself in all these years.
"I had to pluck your soul from somewhere." Arthas smiled. "Now tend to your flock, for the Gurubashi empire has been unborn."
Arthas and Kel'Thuzad made their way to their next destination on foot. The human had a tendency of being reminiscent now that he was undead. Some said the mortals were blessed with short life and were therefore able to appreciate things but Arthas found the opposite to be true. It wasn't until mortals were near death that they found the true beauty of this world; in death everything seemed worthwhile to Arthas.
The Crown Prince of Lordaeron could feel jealousy boil within Ner'zhul for the shaman would never again get to walk the luscious plains of Draenor and bask in their glory. Often times the orc would assure Arthas that, as a shaman, he had appreciated the earth fully in his life. This was after all the code of the shaman. Even still, Arthas could feel the sad eyes of Ner'zhul deep within his mind as the human walked from Stranglethorn Vale to Westfall.
"I can remember being young and playing in these fields on our trips to Stormwind," Arthas said aloud, not to anyone in particular. Kel'Thuzad noticed he had a habit of that. The human would make comments about his life, about his childhood, once anything reminded him of it. And often times Kel'Thuzad found that he rather enjoyed indulging his king.
"You know what I remember, my lord? I remember van Cleef before he became the world renowned vagabond." No doubt a memory inspired by the mineshaft nestled below the hill the two strolled across. "It's funny to think these people are so concerned with stopping him and their own lives that they have absolutely no idea how close we are to them."
Arthas chuckled. "Can you imagine what they'd do if they knew we were sneaking around so close to their town? Unfortunately we must press forward, our transport lies just on these shores."
The coastal murlocs had no idea why the temperature was dropping so fast but they knew they had better clear out before they freeze. The water was already beginning to ice and the wind was much sharper. This was no time for their casters to conduct a study.
Suddenly the frigid water began to churn and one of the sunken ships just off the coast began to raise from the ocean floor. The spirits of old forgotten crew working quickly to prepare the vessel for its departure. From the ice formed steps and Arthas rapidly paced them to take a seat on the deck.
"Welcome aboard, my lord," the captain said as he saluted the Lich King.
"At ease, captain. Our heading is west, to the Ruins of Ahn'Qiraj."
"Aye, aye, sir."
As the broken ship set sail Arthas turned to look back upon the Eastern Kingdoms and as the shores of Westfall began to fade from view the Lich King turned to his arch lich and said, "Ner'zhul can see all of Azeroth. The hidden islands, the Maelstrom, Stormwind, Undercity, all of it. But there's something about seeing the world in person, visions don't do her justice. I can remember Westfall all I want but until I'm actually standing in the fields its not the same thing."
"Perhaps a picture would help.", Kel'Thuzad said.
Smiling, Arthas said, "Maybe. I just feel these places are worth saving, not pictures. That's what will happen if we don't stop Sargeras. He'll destroy this entire world and not a single Titan will help. In a cruel twist of fate death will fight death to ensure life. That's not what I pictured would happen when I donned the crown."
"What did you imagine happening," asked Kel'Thuzad.
"That is an excellent question," chuckled Arthas. "I wanted to rule the world. Still do. I just need to save it to make sure there's something left to rule. Now we've made powerful enemies in Kil'jaeden and the Legion and I have to put my plans on hold. You know, I was perfectly content with sitting atop the Throne and letting everyone know I was the most powerful being on this planet. But Sargeras wouldn't allow that, now would he?"
Ahn'Qiraj's Final Defeat
"It's eery how similar these temples look to Azjol'nerub.", Kel'Thuzad said as his body floated over the sandy stones. "I do not miss having to walk in the sand."
Arthas laughed. He hadn't really thought about human limitations in years. "And I am glad my muscles are not subject to the same stipulations they once were. And of course their architecture is the same."
"I know. It was just a thought, my lord," Kel'Thuzad defended. "I can almost taste the ancient magic these bugs have to offer."
"It's enticing, isn't it," Arthas sounded hungry himself.
The decrepit ruins of Ahn'Qiraj had most definitely seen better days. It had been maybe two years since the heroes of Azeroth had stepped foot in there but Arthas could still sense their altruism. Insectoid corpses littered the grounds along with the fallen obsidian statues. It was clear the monumental task these heroes had not only faced but accomplished. Which made Arthas feel a bit better about the idea of them marching upon his gates. Surely there was much to be said about men and women with courage that stout.
"How many teeming scores of crawling bugs do you think this temple will yield?", Kel'Thuzad asked as he pushed over an insect's corpse to get a better look at the carapace.
"Thousands upon thousands. Really goes to show how many trolls there used to be and how tenacious of fighters they were. I say, if we resurrect them all, we could come close to doubling the size of the Scourge."
"Doubling!?" Kel'Thuzad was shocked.
"Even Var'gazul never knew the true depth of these caverns. I'm sure you've studied about ants and how efficient they are at tunneling underground."
"Can't say that was really on the Kirin Tor curriculum. The magic of their priests on the oth-"
Suddenly there was a disturbance in the sand. It began to shift and molt until a scarab the size of a bear found itself staring down the Lich King. Then another, and another. Qiraji began to spring from the ground in alarming numbers. But these bugs were not dead.
"Steal yourself, my lord," Kel'Thuzad remarked as his chains began to uncoil from his body.
"These bugs came to die!" Arthas yelled as he began to lay waste to the Qiraji army.
Bug after bug revealed itself from the sands. So many so that they encircled the Lich King and his arch lich. Pincers and antennae and claw bombarded the two at every angle. Beetle wings sounded in the distance as more flew in. Their prophets emerged from the shattered temples and began bolstering their forces with magic.
But the will of the Lich King was not something even the might of the Qiraji could mettle with. Every bug that fell returned, every priest that perished found new life and the flying beetles that sought to destroy the interlopers now formed a protective cocoon around them. Wave upon wave of carapace crashed into Frostmourne and the seemingly endless supply of husks reached its end.
The bugs began to retreat only to find their infinite caverns cascaded and overflowing with ice. After all these years the Qiraji finally had nowhere left to run. There own brethren turned against them. Mashing and gnawing on corpses, the undead Qiraji left no thorax unturned.
Soon they returned from the sands mindless drones of the Scourge, and their lone leader, Zax'noraz the Seer, a prisoner in his own home. Zax'noraz had only been an acolyte during the era of C'Thun but left to his own devices had rallied the remaining legion of Qiraji to a new cause.
After the defeat of the Old God, the Qiraji were too alarmed and frightened to show what they had left, however formidable it was. This was when the remaining high priest, Zax'noraz, saw an opportunity to lead his people. For years they continued to thrive underground awaiting the day a new god would present itself. Even though C'Thun did not get along with his brethren, he did not deny their existence to his constituents.
"Tell me, bug, what has become of the once proud Qiraji?" Arthas asked once the Seer was in full sight.
The behemoth bug clicked his mandibles and surveyed the slaughter. This was Ahn'Qiraj's final defeat. Though all was not lost, perchance this was the god who sought to enamor the insectoids.
"We Qiraji were disappointed by the defeat of C'Thun. The god told us of his unspeakable power but the first chance he had to show us he only laid in defeat."
"These Old Gods have a tendency to do so," Arthas said.
"Quite so," Zax'noraz thought aloud "But you, great one, you have the power within you. However, you stink of the Old Gods."
Arthas winced. Yogg-Saron. That bastard was still with him, everywhere he went. Now he was beginning to rethink calling the Qiraji to the Scourge. It was no secret Yogg-Saron was turning the minds of the undead, a feat Arthas and Ner'zhul could not reconcile. Although the trolls had worshiped the Old Gods, they had done so unknowingly. Would it be different now that he was playing with ex-servants?
Something more, in fact. These creatures were avatars of the Old God. Was their bond stronger? Was this all some ploy to get behind the lines of the Scourge and make their final assault? Arthas hated to doubt himself but like Kel'Thuzad said, it was necessary to be critical.
"Let me show you the power of the Death God," Arthas told the Seer.
Deep below the ruins of Ahn'Qiraj C'Thun's body still sat, untainted by the decay of mortality. Even outside the temple Arthas and Kel'Thuzad could feel the hatred emanating from the body. Still sentient, though powerless, C'Thun had thought.
I see you come for my people, Arthas Menethil, son of Terenas
"Your mind games won't work on me, Old God," Arthas jested. "You are a weak mash of flesh, nothing more than an un-animated abomination. Do you still think the heroes of Azeroth frail?"
Do you?
"No. The difference between us is that I intend to embrace it for a much larger picture than you can imagine. With all that time in existence, what have you done? The first band of travelers you meet and you have nothing but defeat to show for it."
C'Thun could sense Zax'noraz feeling the same emotions as Arthas. His own creations were now, more than ever, doubting his power.
I had more scope than you, young prince. The Cataclysm will bring about my revi-
With a look of pure ecstasy, Arthas thrust Frostmourne deep within C'Thun's body. The feeling the human felt, even Ner'zhul, was pure nirvana. Arthas twisted the runeblade around, pulled it out some and shoved it back in deeper all the while C'Thun screeched so loud the Qiraji shook in terror.
"Yes. Scope. You had some. But I see the whole picture," Arthas breathed. "You have no soul for me to steal but power that Frostmourne seems to elate in."
And to the surprise of Kel'Thuzad, Zax'noraz and the Qiraji, the corpse of the Old God began to decay. It quivered and bubbled, it squealed and shook until finally, like a deflated balloon, all life dispersed from the once nefariously magnificent being.
The look on Arthas's face let everyone know he was feeling proud. If truly destroying an Old God wasn't enough for him, he had to let everyone know it. Arthas was still not without some vanity. It was no surprise to the human that the entire regions of Azeroth did not begin to churn and fall off the map as it should have with the true death of an Old God. This was something different. C'Thun's death had been absorbed into Frostmourne completely. The entire event now lay trapped within the mysterious metals that comprised the runeblade.
The boat ride home to Northrend, however, was much less about the future and more about a past that Arthas, Ner'zhul and Kel'Thuzad thought was over. Fighting.
"Arthas you know Frostmourne can't sustain events like that!" Ner'zhul barked.
"The power will be unleashed on a much more potent foe, you know this is how we have to do it," Arthas yelled back.
It had been over a year since Kel'Thuzad had seen the twin entities of the Lich King fight like this. Not since they had to repair their relationship after Arthas's continued attempts to rid himself of the orc's spirit had they fought with such tenacity.
"You're weakening the blade," Ner'zhul exclaimed.
"It needs the power if it is to pierce the hide of Sargeras! This has been our plan for a while now, you know that!" Arthas's bellowing voice literally gave mass to the tattered sails of the resurrected vessel.
"The runeblade is stronger, yes. But the effects the Old Gods have on Frostmourne weakens the blade physically," informed Ner'zhul.
"My lords-" Kel'Thuzad tried to interject and quell the situation but his voice was snuffed out by Arthas within a second.
"It's killing me, Arthas," the orc was serious. There was a long silence after that. The only noise was the undead crew piloting the ship to colder shores. An indeterminable amount of time passed until Ner'zhul spoke up again "And if I didn't know any better I'd say that was your goal."
Arthas turned to look at the spiritual manifestation of the young, brown shaman. "Ner'zhul. How could you even say that? We repaired our relationship years ago. I'm not trying to kill you, only harvest the ability to defeat the Scourge's chief antagonist. There is nowhere your spirit can go that I can't follow."
"Is that your plan? If I die so be it? Because you think you can just pluck my soul from the Twisting Nether?"
This was something they all knew was impossible. The Twisting Nether was strictly Sargeras's territory when it came to meddling. Sure, rogues darted through it at times, and the warlocks had managed to summon demons from it , but that was all because Sargeras allowed it. The Dark Titan was biding his time before he returned to Azeroth and turned all those demons against the warlocks foolish enough to tamper with the Legion's ranks. A plan he had had for quite some time now.
"We will continue as planned, shaman," Arthas said coldly.
"You're still an impetuous BOY!" Ner'zhul pummeled Arthas onto the deck. Suddenly the spirit of Ner'zhul was something much more. The orc thrust his hands forward and a bolt of necrotic energy hurled Arthas into the sea. With a great splash the human plunged into the dark waters; with an even greater splash he returned seconds later atop an iceberg that jettisoned the armored body into Ner'zhul. Both fell off the other side of the boat this time. They continued to fight all the way to the bottom of the ocean.
Each blow and tussle creating another blue flash below the surface until they were so far gone the light could not be seen. Soon the boat began rocking as a miniature maelstrom developed overhead the two. Kel'Thuzad peered down to see Frostmourne sticking out of a coral reef while Arthas and Ner'zhul duked it out with fists.
As a younger orc, Ner'zhul had been large, a force to be reckoned with. But anyone could see Arthas had a mammoth frame by human and orc standards. The two continued to fight until Arthas's hands became locked in Ner'zhul's. The orc was holding the Crown Prince of Lordaeron by the wrists in an epic struggle until...
Eyes. Eyes all around them. Peering through the water into the unnatural slice of air the maelstrom had cut many leagues to the bottom of the sea. There were scores of naga looking on. "Let them watch," Ner'zhul grit through his tusks. "I'm sure one of these aquatic snakes would make a more loyal champion than you!"
Suddenly, the orc had an epiphany. A vision came to Ner'zhul and the orc let Arthas's wrists go and turned to face the serpents of Azshara. These were the servants of Old Gods that would try to herald in a new age of death and destruction! But this realization came at a great cost. The shaman could now feel a great and powerful eye on him, looking into his mind. Quickly, Ner'zhul retreated into Arthas's body.
Stunned, Arthas turned around to face the great Eye of the Sea. It was not unlike the eye atop C'Thun, or the many that had at one time adorned the body of Y'Shaarj. The Lich King finally saw his new enemy. As if he needed another.
"Master! To the boat," Kel'Thuzad called down. Only a voice carried by magic could have reached all the way to the bottom of the maelstrom.
A strong, blue arm began to extend itself from the ocean into the air created by the unnatural occurrence and grab Frostmourne but it was no use. Arthas extended his own plated arm and opened his palm and the runeblade came streaming home. "Come to me, Azshara! See what I do with a corpse such as yours!"
And the naga accepted the challenge. They began to pour forth from the sea in numbers Arthas had not anticipated but nothing the Lich King could not handle. Frostmourne hacked and sliced its way through every serpentine body that presented itself. However, there was some powerful magic that prevented the bodies from turning into agents of the Scourge. They were protected and Arthas did not have the time to decide why and attempt to overcome it. Arthas had often dreamed of having undead naga on his side.
Soon the naga began to leap from the top of the maelstrom down onto Arthas. Many that did were immediately turned to blocks of ice by Kel'Thuzad but many still made their way onto Arthas's shoulders. Thinking quickly, the human created another iceberg. This one reached high above the sea level. Arthas peered down and watched the naga slither up to continue their foolish fight. Sure, Arthas could have teleported away at any moment, but these naga were no real threat. Good sport, Ner'zhul would have called them had he not been so busy fending off Azshara' psychic attacks.
Some of the naga were pulled into the iceberg and frozen instantly. Other were speared by spikes that propelled themselves from the icy construct but some still found Frostmourne. "I will wash over you naga in a crimson tide of your own blood!", Arthas yelled as he fought.
Finally it was enough for the great servant of the Old Gods. The fabled queen of the night elves finally presented her scaly body. She came forth from the water as majestically as she would have in life. Except now her pristine curves were sharper, her body built for mesmerizing mortals had been morphed into something more befit a warrior.
"A human in the flesh," she hissed.
"Human, ha!" Arthas chortled. "Is this how you want to die, my queen? You haven't even gotten a chance to meet your suitor yet," the Lich King smirked.
Azshara smiled, and for a brief second Arthas understood why she was so deadly in life. Steal your mind, Arthas!, Ner'zhul pleaded from within the human's psyche.
"Your time will come, young boy." Azshara grinned maliciously.
"Perhaps I am a boy by your standards, hag," Arthas retorted harshly. "I'm going to go out on a limb and say you won't provide me with safe journey back to Northrend via water."
"I'm afraid your cruise has come to an end," the naga queen confirmed.
"Pity. However, I feel the biggest pity was that, once again, the Old Gods have shown their hand. Tsk. Tsk. With tacticians like that you'll be lucky to find your way to my shores at all."
Azshara was quiet for a minute as the naga began to slink back into the water and deep from sight. "The orc is right. Still an impetuous boy." Those were the naga queen's last words before she too followed suit.
Arthas then commanded the ice of his mountain to form a walkway for him back onto the undead boat and before Kel'Thuzad could say anything they were all, including the boat, back on the icy shores of Northrend. Not only that, but their boat was rocking gently in the wreckage of Arthas's old destroyed ships from so long ago.
"You betrayed the mercenaries who fought for you," Ner'zhul whispered to Arthas the second he noticed where they were. "Oh wait, is this a message to me?"
Arthas let out a little laugh. "No, orc. But did you like those water puns? 'wash over you in a crimson tide'?" Again he seemed proud of himself.
"You missed the opportunity to call her a 'sea hag' though," Kel'Thuzad mentioned.
"Oh! Damn."
"You can't win them all, my lord," Kel'Thuzad comforted, but the mood quickly became serious again. "Was C'Thun implying Deathwing's Cataclysm would bring him back somehow?"
"I believe so, yes. I'm sure all the commotion in Uldum would stir up the bugs enough to reinvigorate their worship of him and give him enough power to become something of a threat," Arthas mused aloud.
"So it's the Sea Hag that will do the Old Gods' bidding in the future. Perhaps living on top of a mountain all these years I forgot about the possibility of the bottom of the sea," Ner'zhul said.
"Well now we know," Arthas said in a light voice meant to be apologetic. The orc knew the tone and brushed it off. There was no doubt in Arthas's mind Ner'zhul expected a full fledged apology once they were back to the Throne. The shaman was proud like that.
And sure enough, once there, Arthas pleaded his case. "Ner'zhul you knew this had to happen."
The orc was silent, pride in the way of him divulging a fear both held. "Death..."
"I know." Arthas put his arm around Ner'zhul's phantom shoulder but the orc brushed that off too.
"No, Arthas, this is different. We agreed years ago that our number one intent was immortality and now our plan is to die."
I intend to live forever...
Arthas would never forget those words to Uther the Lightbringer. Ner'zhul was right, as they stood now, there was only a special place in Hell for them. World domination had increasingly fallen down their list of wants. After their years atop Icecrown their mortal emotions had come back tenfold. Fear being one of them.
"But who would know how to overcome death better than the Death God?", Arthas finally asked his other half.
"This is so much more." Ner'zhul trailed off.
"Listen!" Arthas was becoming agitated by the orc's doubt. "There is nowhere you can go that I can't follow. In spirit, flesh, and even death, we are one."
Ner'zhul stiffened. The orc looked around the Throne and peered off into the dark skies of Northrend for a moment before turning to Arthas. "You're right now more than ever pink-skin, and we have our heading for the future. I have seen it. I have seen the Eye of Azshara."
"Now what?" Kel'Thuzad felt now he could finally ask.
"Now we use the knowledge of the Qiraji on how to reanimate stone," Arthas said, strength returning to his demeanor.
"Stone?"
"There is one last empire I wish to turn to the Scourge. Let them suffer one more defeat and once they have absolutely nothing left they will not deny my will. For no one can deny the will of the Lich King. Not even the Mogu."
