I own nothing, WOW, Warcraft and the like belong to Blizzard while Warhammer belongs to Games Workshop. Other references I snuck in belong to their own owners. Also this fic belows mostly tells the story of a already written official script, The Tomb of Sargeras, but from Kil'Jaden's perspective.
"It was at the height of the ritual that I saw it- a vision from the Dark Titan himself, passed down by our master, Lord Stormrage! There does not exist a term in your language- in any mortal language- for the unending carnage I witnessed. The death of a billion species passed before my unwilling eyes, the immolation of countless worlds. I saw cities that occupied entire worlds reduced to endless planes of slag, oceans boiled to evaporation with their underwater societies cooked alive like lobsters in the pot, vast fleets of vessels that sailed through the stars destroyed like ships in the storm by the unstoppable Legion. Everything was burned, all those great and powerful examples of mortal civilization rendered impotent against the predators of the Nether.
And then the vision got worse. This time I saw not just one universe but a near infinity of them, a complex fractal structure, where new worlds were born each minute from the decisions made a heartbeat before. In every conceivable reality the Legion stood triumphant over broken husks and mortal detritus. I saw Azeroth itself….set alight a million times, I saw myself killed in increasingly creative ways many more. Reality condensed, squeezed from without as the range of possible futures narrowed to but a few.
It was a vision of destruction devoid of any answer to the only question that was on my hopeless mind: Why? " -Demon Hunter Allaria the Soul Eater
Cast adrift for hours at sea, forced to paddle ashore with naught but his own deformed hands, the orc passed out seemingly from exhaustion when he finally reached the shore. The observer – the Orc's master and guide both- reluctantly allowed the orc a precious few moments of rest in a concession to mortal feebleness. Duly, the observer –Kil'Jaden- noted the silent approach of one of the mana-addled elves of nearby Suramar, no doubt intent on draining the Orc's magical essence to sate his own unquenchable addiction. Kil'Jaden made no motion to warn his servant, for if Gul'dan could not handle a simple addict than he was less than useless to the daemon lord. Instead leaned back as he he sat on his Argus throne and watched via their soul link, which allowed him to guide servants across dimensions.
Fortunately, whatever else he may be, Gul'dan was capable. Powerful. And most importantly hungry for more. The Shal'dorei stalker was caught and easily dispatched, though in fashion unnecessarily sadistic for Kil'jaden's taste. Such was Gul'Dan's way. The orc was a child fixated on childhood transgressions, eager to take out his inner hate on anything and everything he met. Gul'dan's unquenchable desire to achieve revenge against the wider universe for his misfortunes is what made the orc so susceptible to the Legion in the first place.
Still, a flawed tool was a tool nonetheless and sadists were aplenty in the Legion.
"What is he?" the orc asked aloud, albeit in a whisper. An irrelevant question. The tool gets distracted too easily. Still, Kil'Jaden responded via their mental link.
—NIGHTFALLEN. AN EXILE FROM SURAMAR.—
More Nightfallen scurried nearby, fleeing the gruesome fateof their compatriot. It was for not. Gul'dan ripped the life-force from their forms, leaving them withered husks.
"Is this the Place? The Broken Isles?" Gul'dan asked as he greedily consumed the stolen life force, taking his time to savor consumption. Shortsighted. The Orc did not realize that his time was short, his the fel signature of his incantations easily detectable by someone trained in magical detection.
—YES. KEEP MOVING.—
The Orc did not. He continued to stand, panting heavily, his irritation easily detected across the soul link. "I need time" he muttered. Ki'Jaden's response was blunt and truthful, for his astral vision beheld much that the orc could not.
Enemies were closing in. The tool had to move- and fast.
—YOU HAVE NONE TO SPARE.—
Again, it whined and dug in, leaning its back against a boulder. ""I need time. The archmage is more powerful than you know." He was still panting and spoke again as if that would add additional credence to his words. "I need more time."
—NO.—
Still, the orc did not move. Defiance, though one born more out of biological fragility than spiritual resistance. Time was short, so Kil'Jaden was more direct.
—YOU DISOBEY ME?—
Gul'dan hissed and responded angrily ""I have proved my loyalty a thousand times over."
Blasphemy. Lies to the one who had earned his moniker from lying. Did the orc think his treachery was so easily forgotten?
—YOU HAVE FAILED AGAIN AND AGAIN. YOU'VE PROVED NOTHING-
Then it happened. The vision of the Orc vibrated, shimmered and then, forcefully, split like a species of microbe undergoing binary fission. Had Kil'Jaden not seen this occur billions of times he would have sighed. Truly, the mortal realms were a realm of madness.
In his mind's eye he saw two Gul'dans leaning against a boulder, both sullen and resentful like a spoilt child of Old Argus.
However where one stood up, reluctantly, the other bitterly cursed his benefactor's presumptions, speaking aloud of what the other was no doubt thinking. Of how the Legion had failed on Draenor, how every one of its schemes had come to nothing and how even Archimonde had fallen before the champions of this world.
Kil'Jaden observed and analyzed the pair, using the multitude of senses gifted to him by Sargeras long ago. Even normal daemonic eyes would have difficulty telling the two apart. Same appearances, same histories, same motivations and same personalities. Same thoughts even, though such was not always the case, with the only difference being in this manifestation the way of expressing them.
The same soul….
Once, the difficulty of discerning between the two Gul'dans would have driven Kil'Jaden to near madness. His skill had improved since then though, forged over countless millennia of mortal interaction. Through his magical sight he could now discern the faintest translucence that separated the Gul'dan connected to the central vein (if haphazardly now) and the orc warlock connected to the tributary. Without a second thought or muttered word, he cut the second orc off from the mental link and redoubled his focus on the first, who was- thankfully- the smarter of the two.
No doubt the second orc, bereft of Kil'Jaden's guidance, would soon perish to the pursuing archmage or the Kaldorei wardens. It was no matter.
Still, the daemon lord considered the doomed Gul'dan's words and admitted that they were spoken in truth. The Burning Legion had failed. Such an actuality deserved further ruminations.
Unaware of his master's thoughts, or the fate of the echo-Gul'dan, the Gul'dan before him whispered aloud.
"Where, then, should I go?" he asked, his voice as cold as death.
Graciously, Kil'Jaden ignored the tonal inflection.
—RETRACE YOUR STEPS.—
Gul'dan looked back toward the ocean. "I don't understand" he said. Through their mental link, Kil'Jaden sensed the warlock was truthful. Inwardly, the daemon lord resigned himself to having to provide closer guidance. Such was the problem working with mortals, who, for all their claim to having five senses (at least) they were near blind compared to a daemon.
—YOU HAVE VISITED THESE ISLANDS BEFORE. DECADES AGO. DO YOU NOT SENSE IT?—
Kil'Jaden could, easily. Echoes of the Central Gul'dan still lingered on this island. Quickly, the daemon corrected himself. Soul-Echoes, not time echoes. Fragments of a powerful soul who had died in great violence- and Gul'dan had died in great violence. The daemons had made sure of that.
Their souls were one; surely Gul'Dan could sense that? Yet Kil'Jaden could not detect a lie in his thoughts…at least on the surface. The soul link wasn't always perfect and Kil'Jaden knew he could not entirely factor out the possibility of a falsehood.
"That was not me," Gul'dan snapped "We are not the same."
Yes you are. He was more you than you.
The Gul'dan before him was an echo who had not yet faded into silence, a living afterthought not yet fallen into entropy. For the purposes of their task, Kil'Jaden had worked his magic to 'stabilize'' the connection of this Gul'dan to Azeroth. However, he would never be the First.
Kil'Jaden knew that he would only confuse his servant in attempting to explain this so he said simply.
—IF YOU ARE NOT, YOU ARE NO USE. GO NORTH.—
Fortunately, this Gul'dan did not even think of contesting the Kil'Jaden's command. Thus a possibility had been rendered stillborn.
Once, a botanist-turned-daemon had once described the mortal realms as a vast, sprawling, unkempt plant- a tree, specifically. Spiraling skyward this tree trunk grew uncounted branches of could-have-been-decisions and what-if possibilities at every turn. However, these branches lacked the ability to truly grow on their own, their life cycle limited substantially in mortal lifespans rather than the billions of years of the main branch and each further possibility, each twig on the branch, further limited its potential. Left alone they would eventually wither and die on their own, their mortal inhabitants ceasing to exist as if they never were. Though, as the recent debacle on Draenor showed, these branches could be stabilized by intervention of those of the trunk. Such occasions were rare, however,
That said Kil'Jaden had always prized thoroughness and efficiency. He ordered the alternate timeways purged whenever he could. Each alternate excursion provided new possible recruits, new insight for the commanders and preparation for striking targets on the main limb. For example, Azeroth itself had been destroyed thousands of times already in preparation for this final invasion- some by Kil'Jaden and some by Archimonde. Likewise, Kil'Jaden's orders kept other, exceedingly unlikely possibilities in check, such as the potential for a branch to successfully stabilize and grow on its own, or to counter the mad possibility of a time-wielding rogue of the main branch uniting all the potential limbs into a vast, infinite army.
As Gul'Dan shambled north, he seemed to pause and consider something. Another Gul'Dan shimmered into place, the result of a dichotomous choice made in hesitation.
"What happened here? With… the other one?"
This time it was the necessary Gul'dan who spoke. Without a hint of remorse, he cut the other, wiser Gul'dan off from his powers. While he could have maintained them both, the other was useless to his plans and could, at best, only help damn a shadow of a world. It was the trunk, the river that was important; not the branch or the tributary.
Kil'Jaden considered the question. If this Gul'dan truly did not know his own fate, then perhaps it would be wise to keep him ignorant of it. Thus the Eredar answered vaguely, in a manner that would no doubt rankle the orc.
—YOU RAISED AN ISLAND, THAL'DRANATH, FROM THE WATERS.—
Sure enough Gul'dan asked "At your command?". This was a dangerous line of questioning.
—YOU ARE NOT HERE TO ASK QUESTIONS. YOU ARE HERE TO VISIT THAT ISLAND AGAIN. IT IS A LONG WALK. MOVE.—
The orc warlock's eyes glittered but he nevertheless continued on. No doubt he was furiously hypothesizing in regards to what happened on the island.
"May I at least ask what is on that island?"
As if you do not know.
—THE TOMB OF SARGERAS.—
The Orc sensed that others were nearby and activated a cloak of fel magic that turned him temporary invisible. A simple spell that a novice among the daemons of the Burning Legion could perform, but an effective spell here nonetheless. The Orc maintained vigilance but his mind was clearly racing with more questions. '
"Sargeras's tomb? He's dead?" he whispered. It was a question of such overwhelming ignorance that Kil'Jaden momentarily lost his dispassion.
—YOU UNDERSTAND NOTHING.—
Kil'Jaden must have given that answer a thousand times yet the hint was never taken, never acknowledged by the orc's insatiably curious mind. The Eredar Lord could normally work with curiosity; indeed he had deceived and corrupted countless millions of mortal scholars over the course of the Legion's crusade. Yet this was not the time. The curiosity only served as a distraction, a potential crisis point that would jeopardize the main objective.
Suddenly, the orc crouched down on high alert. He had detected the approaching Kaldorei watchers- the prison wardens of that primitive race. Unaware of the proximity of her quarry, she walked by the orc and headed north. Kil'Jaden raised his eyebrow at Gul'dan's uncharacteristic restraint but settled it once he began to follow her north. Of course. The Orc didn't just want to drain one soul- he wanted to drain the souls of as many as he could at once, like a gluttonous Imp Mother.
The Eredar considered Gul'dan's prospects, considered whether he would allow the orc to go through with the action. The nourishment provided by a ten thousand year elven soul would boost the warlock's strength immensely, making the unlocking of the tomb an easier affair. Yet the release of fel magic would serve to draw Khadgar's attention and alone of the mortals on this island the archmage remained the most capable of disrupting the Legion's plans. As much as the warlock would deny it Khadgar truly was Gul'dan's equal in power and ability.
The daemon lord's assessment was altered after the warden met back with her kind and the name 'Shadowsong' was spoken aloud. It was an old name among the agents of the Legion on this world, a feared name. For ten millennia on this world she had captured thousands of the Burning Legion agents, ruining hundreds of planned invasion attempts. When she found out that she could not kill her charges, as the act of doing so would send the daemon's soul back to the Twisting Nether for an eventual return, she pioneered techniques that imprisoned daemons indefinitely in magical crystals. In a twist of sadism the warden ensured that her prisoners remained fully aware and alert during the duration of their immobile imprisonment.
Gul'dan was suffused with great power, for a mortal, but Kil'Jaden had seen from afar how the warden had subdued another errant servant, Illidan Stormrange, on two occasions. Victory was not assured with Maiev Shadowsong present.
As the daemon watched a peculiar raven swooped downward. Defeat was now assured. No, defeat had to be avoided. Obedience needed to be assured.
—HIDE.—
Kil'jaeden's voice thundered through the warlock's mind. Gul'dan nearly collapsed from the sheer force of it. He dropped his hands, his ambush forgotten. "What…?"
Fortunately, the orc possessed the wits to redouble his cloaking spell once he detected the raven. As Kil'Jaden watched through his aerial viewpoint the raven circled the group of wardens- once, twice and then landed. In the blink of an eye, the raven transformed. The man who remained walked with a confident stride.
Kil'Jaden could taste the warlock's hate, feel his burning desire for revenge. . Troublesome. Revenge was a dish best served leisurely not when the odds so heavily favored the Other. The warlock's emotions left him compromised. As Khadgar conversed- tensely, Kil'Jaden noticed- with the Warden, Gul'dan itched to cast an incantation.
Gul'dan silently cursed. "I should end this fool now," he said.
—THEY ARE IRRELEVANT. LEAVE.—
"I can kill them all."
—YOU ARE NOT HERE FOR THEM. OBEY, GUL'DAN.—
Reality split again. On one plane, Gul'Dan cursed and mustered his incredible prowess for an almighty attack. Born from hate, the spell leapt from his fingers like an archer's arrow zooming for the archmage and the head warden. Caught in surprise, neither had time to react- but one their subordinates managed to. One of the lesser Wardens collided with her mistress, toppling the warden into archmageand knocking them both over. She was immolated; body and soul, by the fiendish spell but the act gave Maiev and Khadgar time to untangle themselves even as Gul'dan angrily prepared his next blast….
In another, Gul'dan angrily seethed, clearly considering treason, but nonetheless obeyed. Fortune favored Kil'Jaden as, once again, the prudent Gul'dan turned out to be the central link. In the other pane Gul'dan called for aid as his fel-shield withered under Khadgar's powerful arcane missiles. Right as Maiev Shadowsong teleported behind the Warlock, umbra glaive poised, another pane forming from Gul'dan's actions, the daemon lord severed that connection.
"I serve, Kil'jaeden." The Warlock's voice strained with audible reluctance.
—YOUR DESTINATION IS TO THE EAST. FIND A WAY TO TRAVERSE THE BAY. YOU NO LONGER HAVE TIME TO WALK AROUND SURAMAR.—
Gul'dan seethed but, petulantly, he snuck off to the shoreline, there procuring a small rowboat. The orc used manual labor to row off the coast and, then, once confident he was out of range for Khadgar's immediate detection, used fel magic to empower the craft. A great burst of fel fire appeared on its underside, the fire itself consuming the life in the ocean-down to the tiniest microbe- as fuel. Gul'dan sped forward at speeds beyond the technological capabilities of boats of this world and Kil'Jaden had to admit he was impressed by the small innovation.
As Gul'dan sped towards the Broken Shore, Kil'Jaden idly wondered if he could afford to enter that timeline. The Twisting Nether transcended all realities and a master of the demonic realm had the privilege –or the misfortune- of being view all said timelines at any given time. Kil'Jaden had already narrowed his sight to a microscopic point through his soul link with Gul'dan, limiting himself greatly. Yet, by entering that realm, by leaving the Twisting Nether, he could temporary bind his physical form to that timeline and see as a mortal saw things.
No, he reluctantly conceded, that would be unwise. The Daemon Lord was needed here, to facilitate the opening of the portal. This work was too important to entrust to any underling, no matter how important. As for asking his Master for help...
Kil'Jaden gripped the arm of the throne that he currently sat on, tightly. For long moments, his body was terse, his face locked into a ghost of a snarl. Then, slowly, the daemon who prided himself on his dispassion and efficiency relaxed. It would not do to think of his own master at the moment, for Sargeras had shown little interest in helping to secure the planet he claimed to prize above any other. He had ordered Kil'Jaden to invade and then, seemingly, cast all thoughts of the world aside for his own projects. Instead, it was all delegated to Kil'Jaden…
The Orc's voice interrupted his thoughts. Kil'Jaden's focus returned to the warlock who had just arrived at the Tomb of Sargeras and was even now nullifying the arcane barriers designed to keep intruders out.
"What is inside? Guards? Traps?" Gul'dan asked.
Kil'Jaden thought for a moment. The answer was an obvious one; he had no idea how Gul'dan could not see it.
—YOUR PURPOSE.—
Gul'dan paused. The Orc clearly did not expect that answer. "What will you have me do?"
So, the tool still had no inclination to its wielder's intent. Very well, the daemon would have to spell it out.
—YOU WILL OPEN THE WAY FOR US.—
Gul'dan didn't understand. "We tried that on Draenor." It was a lie, but perhaps one the orc sincerely believed. Gul'Dan always did mistake personal concerns for concerns of the greater legion. He was like Archimonde, in a way.
—THERE, YOU SOUGHT TO CLEAR THE PATH YOURSELF. HERE, YOU NEED MERELY TURN THE KEY. THEN YOU WILL KNOW OUR TRUE POWER.—
The Orc was doing well now. Kil'Jaden had to admit that. He was taking down barriers set by mages with century honed aptitude was ease. Yet the Orc's mind was clearly elsewhere. "This is what the other Gul'dan was meant to do. What happened?"
—YOU FAILED YOUR PURPOSE.—
The Orc was angry. "That was not me," he growled. Another lie. The Gul'dan below was a living self-portrait pointing to its subject and denying a connection. Still, perhaps the portrait had deluded himself enough to believe he was the subject, and the other the picture.
Not wanting to argue the point, Kil'Jaden merely said
—WE WILL SEE.—
The Orc's next question was far more dangerous.
"How did he fail?"
Kil'Jaden settled for a one word answer.
—DISLOYALTY.—
It was the truth of the past and also a warning for the future. Hopefully, the orc could pick up on both connotations.
Whether he did, or he didn't, the orc's thoughts were obscured but doubtless that was caused by the needed focus on the task at hand. With a final incantation, the last barrier was removed. With a new eagerness, the orc entered the tomb. Kil'Jaden no longer needed to urge him on, as Gul'dan had ever sought the acquisition of greater power in a manner that only those who had once been powerless could understand.
"Guide me, Kil'jaeden," Gul'dan said. "I will succeed."
As the daemon lord guided his servant through the maze of twisting corridors and decaying ruins, he at last allowed his mind to wander to the Draenor incident and the death of Archimonde.
Draenor- or at least a branch of it- had been a disastrous debacle from beginning to end. Impossible events seem to conspire to ruin the best laid plans at every turn. Gul'Dan's efforts to subvert the orc race had been thwarted by another orc who was from neither that reality nor time, who in that realm would never exist. All of Kil'Jaden's well laid plans had collapsed like a house of cinder against that thrice-damned time traveling orc. Sargeras had mocked Kil'Jaden's failure then, chastising his inability to predict what was simply unpredictable!
The responsibility for the planet's destruction had been given to Archimonde the Despoiler. Archimonde, the co-leader of the Eredar and the right fist of Sargeras even as Kil'Jaden was his left. Archimonde, the closest person Kil'Jaden ever had to a brother along with-
No, he thought, as his fists tightened around his throne with far greater intensity than they had for Sargeras, it wouldn't help to think of HIM now.
Though Archimonde was Kil'Jaden's equal, they couldn't be more different in style. While Kil'Jaden forgave followers who erred when they failed a task, preferring to never discard a tool that might prove useful, Archimonde burned through lieutenants with the same immolating form the Legion used to purge worlds. He was a brutal and unforgiving taskmaster who brooked neither failure nor subtlety, a commander obsessed with the pursuit of immediate power at all costs. He was bold where Kil'Jaden was contemplative, blunt where Kil'Jaden was subtle, one-dimensional where Kil'Jaden preferred to look at all possibilities.
But, most importantly of all, Archimonde had failed where Kil'Jaden had not….only been setback.
Where Kil'Jaden had planned to subvert the orcs as a new tool to use the Draenei, hiding the daemon's presence until the final act, Archimonde swiftly abandoned all pretense of subtly and led a daemonic invasion of the world as soon as Gul'dan was able to open the path. He sought to cut a path with flame and steel where cloak and dagger would have been more effective. The corruption of much of the remnant of Hellscream's foolish Iron Horde had only been a bonus objective accomplished by a greedy Gul'dan. Whereas Kil'Jaden has encouraged his pupil to rule through the shadows Archimonde encouraged the orc to rule unhidden and open, a blunt appeal to the orc's vast vanity. And that, at least, had worked.
In the end, what did Archimonde accomplish? The portal had not been powerful enough to sustain the full army of Argus, yet Archimonde pressed on anyway. In all of existence, in all the chaotic Twisting Nether and the infinitely malleable mortal realms, Kil'Jaden reckoned he had encountered scant few who could match- or even come close to- Archimonde's level of arrogance and conniving determination. It was to be his downfall here.
He had ever believed the champions of Azeroth to be contemptable insects and the inhabitants of Draenor to be even less. Yet, within two months, the Fel Iron Horde had been broken across the Azerothian knee, the remnants besieged inside Gul'Dan's mighty Citadel and the surrounding environs. Archimonde, never once wavering from his conviction of an easy victory, pressed on.
In the climax of that mighty final battle Archimonde himself had manifested and even dragged the champions of Azeroth and Draenor to his home realm where he was strongest. Knowing Archimonde, he no doubt sought to crush the mortal's spirit with a showing of his greatest possible power, seeking to see his foes wallow in hopeless and despair before snuffing out the souls that remained.
It didn't work. Worse, in his arrogance Archimonde had forgotten that the source of a daemon's power was also its greatest liability. Those of his kind who died in the mortal realms had a replaceable body torn asunder…those who passed in the Twisting Nether had their souls torn apart.
Archimonde wasn't coming back.
On the whole, this gladdened the archdaemon. No longer did he have to share leadership of the Eredar with Archimonde. No longer could Sargeras politick the two against each other in endless games for the titan's own dark amusement, no longer did Kil'Jaden have to deal with blunt threats from the Defiler nor make subtle threats of retaliation in return. No longer did Kil'Jaden have a true rival among Sargeras' legion, for other than the fallen titan himself none that remained approached his power.
And yet…
Archimonde was one of the few that truly knew Kil'Jaden before the arrival of Sargeras- knew who he was in those golden days when they, together with the OTHER, had ruled Argus at its apex of achievement. War, toil, famine and the other struggles of mortal existence had been barely remembered relics of a distant past in those days. The Eredar had reached a state of advancement that made the elves of this world seem like their barbarous orcs in comparison.
In the untold millennia since Archimonde and Kil'Jaden had hated and distrusted one another as all daemons did, been envious of each other's power, sought to sabotage one another and occasionally even ordered half-hearted assassination attempts. Yet, at the same time, there was a reluctant respect, even comradery there that did not exist between other daemons. There was an understanding, even.
And now he was gone, gone like the glory that was Old Argus and the promises of a better future. A mortal observer might have characterized what Kil'Jaden felt as sadness, mourning even. The Daemon would have called said mortal a fool and then immolated his or her soul for their impudence. Kil'Jaden certainly would not have lifted a finger to avert his rival's demise if he knew of it ahead of time Perhaps he would have even abetted, providing subtle aid from afar. And yet the honest part of the daemon could not deny to himself that, deep down, there was true melancholy there. It was a rare feeling for a mortal turned daemon who had taught himself to shut off such feeble mortal sensibilities long ago.
Kil'Jaden had long honed his mind to perfection to ensure that it was the finest weapon in the Legion arsenal. Thus, while he allowed his mind to wander onto his fallen brother, his focus had never wavered from Gul'Dan. Such attention paid off now as he hastily sent a warning to his disciple to prepare for enemy contact. The orc, transfixed by the summoning ritual on the ground, did not act fast enough. Only the warlock's potent warding, aided slightly by the daemon lord pouring the tiniest portion of his own strength through the connection
In the archmage strolled, his form showcasing supreme confidence and bristling violet arcane energy that, around the archmage's body, seemed to take a life of their own. Through his daemonic sight Kil'Jaden could see the archmage as a wellspring of the violet order magic of the titans while Gul'dan served as a fountain of chaotic fel energy .
Here we were again, Kil'Jaden thought wryly to himself.
Arcane and order, fel and chaos. The Daemon Lord had seen those two opposing magics clash uncounted times across millions of worlds. Ever did order rise to oppose Chaos just as Chaos sought to pervert order. Of course these were nothing more than quaint affairs, soft throwbacks and reverberations to a time when the conflict had actually been contested and not forgone. Every battle, every skirmish, every magical duel was nothing more than the palest shade of that mighty cataclysm between the Lord of the Legion, Sargeras, and the rest of the mighty Titans. The war had been unfathomably vast, scarring reality forever. In the end, Sargeras won and with that victory the ultimate fate of order had been sealed.
Kil'Jaden had not been part of the Legion when Sargeras destroyed his former brethren but he still sometimes felt its reverberations, like the aftershocks of a continent shattering earthquake.
Through Kil'Jaden's soul link, he watched the pair clash. Brilliant, violet bolts hammered resoundingly against a translucent sickly green shield. Molten meteors, burning brightly with a fire that could consume souls as well as flesh, were drawn by gravity towards the archmage, who expertly dodged around them using a well-timed series of personal teleportation. At the end of his blink Khadgar sent a single spike of ice the size of a ballista's bolt at the green shield. It penetrated two feet in, missing the orc's skin by a hair and causing the warlock to snarl and retaliate with his own fel spikes.
And that was only one plane…
To compare a wizard's battle with a normal duel would be to compare the mind of an Eredar with that of an imp. In one, you have a force capable of advanced stratagems, bursting with infinite complexity and imagination. The other was one dimension, transparent, and at best capable of variances of the same tricks. In a normal duel the challengers might consider a few dozen tricks. A magic user-regardless of source of magic- had literally thousands of spells available in their reservoirs and though some spells were certainly favored more than others for their combat potential, there was still a dazzling variety that produced headaches for the daemonic watcher.
Once, Kil'Jaden had led an assault against a machine world whose inhabitants, instead of relying their advanced personal weaponry, used insidious metallic gnats to counter the legions of daemonic foes on their door steps. At first the threat had seemed laughable but, as the gnats were unleashed, they tore through flesh with unthinkable speed, forming more of themselves with every microbe consumed. The Legion hadn't been able to conquer that world, not truly, but its objectives were still achieved as the gnats, corrupted by their glutting on daemonic flesh, turned on their own creators at the apex of the conflict. Within days of the invasion, the world was as much a lifeless husk as it would have been if the Legion had torched it.
Watching the duel from the ethereal plane that connected all mortal realities, Kil'Jaden felt a distinct sense of Déjà vu.. Every choice in battle, every potential counter, every random stroke of luck and out of control circumstance led to the creation of a new possibility, the addition of a new future. No, not addition. Multiplication. Each possibility beget yet more potentialities, more near misses and could-have-beens and other visions that swirled together like a blinding vortex of incoherent madness! The archdaemon forced himself to focus. Only one plane mattered- that of the central trunk- and his mind moved to rapidly sever connections with any useless extras. In a manner, Kil'Jaden was moving faster than the combatants themselves.
Though he tried not to focus on any but the central plane, Kil'Jaden could not help but notice some of the possibilities cast aside. In some Gul'Dan achieved the upper hand or even victory. In one pane Gul'Dan impaled the archmage's feet on enormous fel spikes and then sent a third through the screaming human's chest. In another, the warlock breached the mage's arcane barrier with a fel explosion, sending limbs and gore flying in all different directions. Kil'Jaden felt nothing for abandoning a triumphant Gul'dan in those alternate possibilities, though he did keep a note on how to access them again. When the invasion of Azeroth commenced he would seek to reopen those connections so that the commanders of Argus could hone their tactics in other realms as they worked to subvert, at last, the one and true timeline.
Yet, just as Kil'Jaden noted the instances of Gul'dan's victory he also noted the occasions of his defeat, which to the daemon's eyes outnumbered those of triumph. In one scene, the Archmage froze the warlock in ice and then shattered his form into a thousand pieces like glass. Another had the mage successfully polymorph the warlock, a temporary fix as the will of the warlock was more than enough to break free of the spell but it lasted long enough for the mage to set his sheep opponent on fire. In a third, more impressive circumstance the archmage cast a mysterious spell that seemingly did nothing, before going on the defensive, launching a number of arcane bolts that forced Gul'Dan to summon up his fel shield in defense. Then the mage teleported behind the warlock, forcing Gul'Dan to turn, before the truth of the first spell was revealed. Time rewound, as Khadgar appeared back in the spot he cast his mysterious spell and blasted Gul'dan's unprotected back with an arcane burst.
The glimpses were enough, the possibilities were clear. This duel favored Khadghar and though the Gul'dan bound to the central timeline fought on, he was more likely to lose than not. Too, Kil'Jaden considered possibilities for Khadgar, long term predictions based on the archmage's own personality traits that might herald a change in the human's allegiance.
Kil'Jaden made his decision and sent a simple command to his servant.
Gul'dan, stop this.
The orc snarled the heat of battle driving away what little tact he possessed and causing him to curse his master.
"Stay out of this!"
Unruly. Undisciplined. Though the daemon knew Gul'dan had secretly favored the leash of the Defiler over that of the Deceiver, Archimonde would have had the orc flayed alive for speaking thus.
—OBEY ME. WITHDRAW.—
"I can kill him!" Gul'dan raged.
Can yes, should or would were different question though.
Khadgar grinned; sweat beginning to shine on his forehead. "Who is that, Gul'dan? Who holds your leash?" Gul'dan responded with a wordless roar, hurling even more power at the archmage. Sparks flew, but Khadgar deflected the energy with a hoarse laugh. "Which of your masters have we not slain yet?"
He is too easily enraged by childish insults, Kil'Jaden thought to himself, with growing annoyance. The daemon was growing tired of his servant's continuing insolence. He was not Archimonde, but even the patience of Kil'Jaden had limits.
Kil'jaeden's voice gripped Gul'dan's mind.
—END THIS! NEITHER OF YOU CAN DIE THIS DAY.—
"What?!"
—DO IT NOW!—
It was not simply an order; it was an ultimatum. Gul'dan would obey, or he would find himself cut off from the Legion. Immediately.
So he obeyed. Gul'dan flung his arms wide, spreading his power into a thin sheet of pure fel fire. Khadgar's attack smashed through it, but as the sheet collapsed, it unleashed a blinding explosion of light. Khadgar shielded his eyes. When the glare faded, Gul'dan was gone.
Pleased, the daemon fed what power he could through the soul-link, buffeting the orc with greater power to shield his illusion spell. The orc skulked in the shadows, taking care to put as many physical impediments between him and the archmage as possible instead of simply relying on the spell.
"I cannot finish your task without his sensing it," Gul'dan quietly said to Kil'jaeden. "Let me kill him."
The daemon had to admit there was some logic to Gul'dan's attempts at reasoning. A mage of Archmage's power would be able to find the warlock eventually, even with Kil'Jaden's guidance it would only be a matter of time.
Still, the eredar saw great potential in the archmage. He wasn't willing to give up just yet.
—HE WILL DO ANYTHING TO CLAIM VICTORY. THAT WILL BE AN OPPORTUNITY FOR US. LATER.—
Through their spirit-link Kil'Jaden felt skepticism but not incredulity. The orc knew firsthand the truth of just how far he Khadgar would go towards victory. Cordana Felsong, the warden who had pledged loyalty to the Legion, had put it best, in words that echoed across worlds:
"Khadgar is just a child, swaggering around, torturing his prisoners, playing with lives, dabbling in magics he pretends to comprehend."
His behavior, beyond just the testament of Cordana, reeked of desperation. It shined in every inane objective handed down to his subordinates, every champion of Azeroth carelessly thrown into a outmatched conflict, every occasion in which Khadgar personally risked his own life while trying to subvert his enemies designs.
Khadgar knew. Knew of the Legion's true power. Kil'Jaden was sure of it. That was the source of his desperation and the reason he sought any and all available means to boost his power. This provided an opening and this would be his downfall. Telepathically, the order was sent to one of the Legion's best agents. Soon the agent would stand in the tower of Medvih, disguised and illusioned, ready to offer Khadgar the power of the guardian, the power to end the Legion's invasion. Power with some…strings attached.
Back on Azeroth, Khadgar was taunting the orc and comparing him to a felhound led along on a leash. It was a truthful comparison, in Kil'Jadeen's view, though the dog in this case was rather unruly. The insults clearly rankled Gul'Dan who seemed to have skin so thin as to be comparable to a rotting cadaver. Magically projecting his voice, the orc returned the insults.
"Khadgar, I never thanked you for your help. The Iron Horde would have been difficult to cut down on my own. You and your friends were most useful," he said.
It was a rather foolish return, given how the rest of the Draenor campaign went. Idiotic, too, as a mage of Khadgar's potential could surely trace the voice, even with the magical projection.
Khadgar laughed aloud, for he remembered well the overwhelming success Azeroth achieved against Hellscream's Horde…and the later success against Gul'Dan's, as well. Then, the archmage sent a blast of fire zeroing in on where his mage-sight pinpointed the warlock to be. Such was its power, its heat, that it liquefied two stone columns and sent an avalanche of rocks crumbling from the ceiling.
Once again different specters appeared before his eyes, different visions of clashing-potentials. In some the attack was a direct hit and with a high pitched screech the orc melted like glass. In others, the orc dodged but then went on the defensive.
Fortunately, the Gul'dan central to the Legion's plans stayed hidden and, wisely, silent. Disappointed that his guess was seemingly off, the mage turned his back and began to scan another area of the tomb.
Softly, Gul'dan whispered to his master, pleading that the daemon tell him what was in the tomb and how to release it.
Kil'Jaden considered his request. Awesome power was stored in the tomb, power capable of immolating cities or creating a portal that could link dimensions together. Yet the power laid sealed behind potent wards put in place by the cursed Highborne, which were later amplified by the thrice-cursed guardian Aegwynn. No daemon could enter it without risking immediate destruction or imprisonment. Allegedly no race born of Azeroth could enter, either, though that ward had already been broken, years ago, by the powerful and duplicitous Illidan Stormrage.
If Kil'Jaden could directly manifest on the planet, he would certainly have the power to break the enchantment- and fairly easily too. For years the warlocks of the Eredar had made meticulous notes of the wards on the tomb and how to break them. This was a hypothetical scenario of course, for if Kil'Jaden could manifest on the planet freely, he would have no reliance on servants for this task. Of the servants left on this world there were perhaps four that Kil'Jaden trusted less than the orc before him. After all the orc had already betrayed him before and may do so again.
Yet, conversely, the orc remained the only servant with the magical knowledge to break the seals or to duel Khadgar somewhat evenly. Worse, Kil'Jaden's intentions had been revealed to the archmage and, if this incursion failed, the might of the Kirin Tor would surely guard the tomb from then on.
Reluctantly, aware of the flawed hand he had been dealt, Kil'Jaden began to explain the nature of the tomb and how to break its seals, silently, to his servant. The daemon did not like how Gul'Dan's smile visibly widened with every passing word, nor the greed that shone clear in his eyes.
Meanwhile, Khadgar continued to prowl the tomb, taunting the warlock with implications of weakness and cowardice. At first Gul'dan, entranced by the power spoken of by his master, paid no heed however after a few moments his greedy, almost lustful countenance turned into a snarl and the orc conjured up a powerful fel fire blast. The face did not match the eyes, which possessed a calculating look. Before Kil'Jaden could protest the warlock unleashed his attack.
It was a blow powerful enough to utterly immolate the archmage- mind, body and soul. Khadgar, or at least the Khadgar of the relevant timeline, sensed the attack. Just as the fire was close enough to touch his neck the archmage use the arcane to freeze the air around him, nullifying the strike. Then, a moment afterwards, the ice block disintegrated into a thousand shards with the archmage utterly unharmed. Gul'dan, however, was not as Kil'Jaden used their connection to inflict agony upon the upstart orc's nerves. The servant would obey, or he would be punished.
Seething, panting from his screams of pain, furious from Khadgar's renewed mockery (for even if the archmage could not see the orc, he could hear the scream of pain and guess its cause) , the warlock seemed, for a moment, on the edge of revolt. Indeed, in a flash timeline spawned from a moment of decision, he did revolt, cursing his benefactor and laying petty grievances bare. Kil'Jaden cast that plane aside as a mortal would an irksome fly.
"Didn't have permission to strike at me? How does the Legion's discipline feel, Gul'dan? Are you ready to be a good pet now?"
The orc's voice was near to bursting with suppressed rage. "Do you believe in fate, human?" he asked.
An odd question. "I know your fate," Khadgar said.
"What about redemption?"
"Redemption? For you? No," Khadgar snorted. Redemption, at least as the Azerothians reckoned the word, laughable to the daemon too, though unlike the archmage he thought he understood where Gul'dan was going with this.
"No, not for me," Gul'dan agreed. "Your kind of redemption bores me. It bored the son of Hellscream, too, from what I hear."
"What do you want? I can't imagine being a puppet appeals to you."
"I want my enemies to burn," Gul'dan said.
"Lovely," Khadgar said.
—YOU OPEN THE WAY AND YOU WILL HAVE YOUR REDEMPTION. YOUR PAST TRANSGRESSION WILL BE FORGIVEN. YOUR ENEMIES WILL BURN. THIS I PROMISE.—
The Orc grinned, though Kil'Jaden knew not what lay behind the smile. Twisting his hands, muttering and weaving complex motions that Kil'Jaden poured into his mind, Gul'dan slowly undid the five seals on the tomb. With a crackled, the light faded from the first as the magic behind it faded from existence.
Unfortunately Khadgar had caught on to Gul'dan's work. Casting his own incarnations, the mage summoned a horde of arcane legions, man-sized, and set them to work probing every corner of the tomb. Gul'Dans time was limited.
Then Khadgar spoke once more, this time with words to pique his curiosity rather than rage.
"So, Gul'dan," he said, "I have to ask—has the Legion told you how you died?"
The Orc grumbled something about that 'not being him' but nevertheless his countenance registered curiosity. This was dangerous. The Orc was, like too many mortals, emotionally melodramatic, fragile. In the past, the daemons and….other Powers-That-Be had used this instability to corrupt uncounted mortals on unnumbered worlds. Yet, if the orc was truly not aware of its past fate, Khadgar may well be able to sabotage the Legion's plans in a manner that his magic had yet failed to do.
—IGNORE HIM.—
"I am" he hissed, still in pain from the previous punishment. His voice was strained, though from repressed anger or the effort of unbinding the daemon could not tell. Another seal broke. Khadgar noticed but still did not fully grasp the significance of it.
The archmage continued his tale, detailing how Gul'dan had abandoned the Horde at the hour of their victory in order to set sail to the Broken Isles. It was a tale woven with a lie, however, as the mage took pains to imply that Gul'Dan had acted on the Legion's orders, rather than his own. Or perhaps it was not a lie, but, rather, was the truth as far as the archmage knew it. Either way, it was a worrying development.
There. Gul'dan broke the third lock with such force that it destroyed the fourth seal as well. Risky, the feedback could have destroyed him, and, in fact, had destroyed him in other visions that arose and were quickly dismissed in the demons mind. At this point, the daemon was beginning to feel a mixture of gratitude and suspicion over Gul'Dan's incredible luck, for none of the multitude of potential discoveries or fatal feedback triggered by ancient failsafes occurred to this Gul'dan, despite it happening with alarming frequency in other versions.
Still such boldness, if it paid off, would be rewarded well.
—WELL DONE. DESTROY THE LAST.—
Gul'Dan hesitated and strained. The last seal was proving particularly irksome. No, not just irksome. Arcane energy was surging into the last seal like water into a newly made sea-side crater.
"Kil'jaeden, what is happening?" Gul'dan whispered. Kil'Jaden ignored him, intent on what was occurring before it.
Of course, the daemon thought to himself, Aegywn was known for her arrogance but even the most confident of individuals could conceive of potentialities where their defenses failed, and create fail safes accordingly.
This was deeply problematic. The demonic planners had not prepared for this.
There was worse to come. Kil'Jaden's attention had waned as he considered Aegywn's failsafe, but Khadgar's had not. Rather, he had caught on to Gul'Dan's actions and had been summoning a substantial amount of arcane energy to himself. With a word of power, he unleashed the energy. Gul'dan braced himself but the arcane energy was not molded into a spell of destructive capacity, rather, constructive. A giant wedge, three times the archmage's height, formed in midair. Then he aimed that wedge, whose edge gleamed like sharpened steel, at the floor. Normal metals would not be able to penetrate far into the tomb's floor but one forged of magic itself…
It would dig deep and connect with the magic which the Legion had stored under the tomb 10,000 years ago. Then, they had sought to open a second daemonic portal in the War of the Ancients, only to be foiled by Highborne sorcerers at the climax of the ritual. If the wedge of arcane power connected with that stored magical might, it would cause an explosion and destroy the whole complex along with everything inside. Truly Khadgar's willingness to do anything to win had been underestimated – he would destroy himself if it the act of doing so would foil the Legion's plans.
NO!
Unwittingly, Kil'Jaden sent waves of panic through his mental connection with Gul'Dan however, at this point, he was did not care about the loss of composure. This was it! This was the summation of the Legion's plots since the Third War. If the Legion failed here-if he failed here- than the Legion's invasion would be delayed years, perhaps even decades. The mortals would restore themselves to power, or worse, the other enemies of the Nether would make their move onto the planet.
The wedge slammed into the ground, the Legion of elementals now serving as the force behind it. The Entire chamber heaved. In desperation, Kil'Jaden rescinded his earlier order.
—KILL HIM! KILL HIM NOW, GUL'DAN!—
Gul'dan rose to his feet, letting his black cloak fall from his shoulders. There was no need to hide any longer. He discarded all of his tricks. "I obey, Kil'jaeden," the orc said, raising his hands.
The Orc conjured a wave of fel which met Khadgar's arcane barrier like a volatile tsunami against a stalwart mountainside. The primordial elements collided with a resounding thunderclap that shook the entire tomb and, for all Kil'Jaden knew, the entire island. The effect was, for a moment, blinding to the demon lord and when his vision returned multiple visions appeared before him as if he were a staggered, punch drunk warrior. Frenzily, he cast aside the useless apparitions, trying to direct all his focus onto the one possibility made important. Once again his sight could not help tocatch glimpses of the other variations .
Before him the Gul'dan's shield shattered with the sound of breaking glass however, in most potentialities, the archmage failed to follow-up. No, not failed, chose not to. His strategy was shifting.
Gul'dan retaliated with fire and fury which in turn were met by disciplined shields and counterspells. The Archmage limited his offensive thrusts, though did not entirely cease them. In one eventuality, a stalagcite fell through a portal right through another one on Gul'dan's head, crushing the orc. However, across the broad spectrum of visions a stalemate settled in, as Khadgar contently focused on protecting himself and the arcane elementals.
Of course…the archmage's objectives had changed. No longer did he focus on destroying the warlock instead, he correctly perceived that denying the Legion the tomb was a more important task and, seemingly, he was willing to die to carry that out. Even as Khadgar deflected one spell after another the elementals raised the magical wedge one more and drove it through the floor. The whole tomb quaked and the daemon instinctively knew it would take only a few more blows to arrive at the Legion's reservoir.
Gul'dan recognized this as well.
"Kil'jaeden," Gul'dan whispered, "I need the tomb's power."
Kil'Jaden's response was instinctive.
—NO.—
"There is one seal left, and it is being protected! I cannot break it and kill him!" Gul'dan seemed to say those words with visible pain, as if the act of admitting a limitation harmed him. "He has had decades to study me. He can hold me off for too long."
The seal was weakened now, enough for Kil'Jaden to direct some of the energy below. It was possible for him to direct it to the orc however he knew, instinctively, what would happen.
—YOU WILL BETRAY ME.—
Gul'dan forced more power into his attacks. Khadgar wavered but held firm. Gul'dan growled in frustration. "Khadgar will destroy the tomb. The Legion will never have a chance to use this place again. Trust that I want to see this fool dead, or trust that all of your plans will burn."
Sweat dripped down Khadgar's face. "I forgot to finish my story," he said. "When you entered the Tomb of Sargeras, you died in an ambush."
Kil'Jaden wavered, seeking, vainly, to divine the course of action ahead of him. But visions had never been his purview, he thought hatefully to himself; it was always the domain of that damned traitor. He could not see the future clearly, only guess it based on current portents. Every portent, every scrap of knowledge Kil'Jaden had on Gul'dan suggested betrayal was inevitable if he handed over the power. Yet, if he did not Khadgar would destroy the tomb…or his allies would come to defeat the warlock. Already, in the corner of his mind, he could sense another appear at the tomb's entrance.
It was a choice between a 5% probability and a 100% certainty. With reluctance, Kil'Jaden made his decision even as Khadgar finished his story, at the worse possible moment.
"The other Gul'dan did not die by the Alliance's hands, nor by the Horde that he betrayed," Khadgar said. Gul'dan could not help but listen to him. "He entered the tomb and was torn limb from limb by demons. I suppose the Burning Legion had no more use for him."
The die was cast. Like water pouring down into a whirlpool, the hidden reservoir of Legion power, enough to breach the divide between worlds, between dimensions and realities, fell into Gul'Dan's hands. The Orc swelled with borrowed power, fel energy radiating from his form like a lightning rod conducting electricity. With an upraised hand, he shattered the remaining seal like it was an insect in his grasp. Then, with another, he unleashed a tsunami of fel energy that filled the room as if the ocean itself was pouring in. The arcane elementals and their wedge evaporated instantly and only the most powerful offensive spell Khadgar had allowed him to survive, immobile, rocking through an ocean of fel like a pebble in a hurricane.
Gul'dan struggled to break it, and in time he could have, as shown in alternate panes. However the orc always was too impatient. Frustrated, the warlock cast him through one of the openings of the tomb and then collapsed it on top of the archmage.
Gul'dan stood there, basking in glory and long sought power. He made no effort to direct the energy to the portal.
Dreadful and frustrated, Kil'Jaden spoke through their mental link
—YOU MADE A PACT, GUL'DAN. FINISH YOUR TASK. OPEN THE WAY FOR US.—
Gul'dan took a deep breath, clearly savoring the moment. No other pane, no other potentiality arose from when he next spoke. Possibilities narrowed down to one for, in that moment, Gul'dan responded in a manner that reached to the heart of his character.
"No, Kil'jaeden," he replied. "I will not.
Pebbles and debris still dropped from the ceiling, making long clangs as they hit the floor. For long moments, they were the only sound around.
Kil'jaeden was quiet. Gul'dan was not.
"I don't believe Khadgar was lying," the orc said, his tone eerily calm. "The other one. The other Gul'dan. He died here at the Legion's hands, yes?"
Kil'Jaden saw no need to lie, no need to evade anymore.
—YES, HE DID.—
Gul'dan lowered his head. "So. The Burning Legion does not honor its pacts. There was always a part of me that believed our arrangement would not last," he said.
Kil'Jaden put in as much disapproval into his return as possible. Gul'Dan was throwing away both his potential and the Legion's opportunity for nothing more than spite and petty delusions of power.
—THAT IS BECAUSE YOU ARE A FOOL. AS MUCH NOW AS THEN.—
Gul'dan laughed.
"A forewarned fool, at least," he said.
But Kil'jaeden was not done.
—I WAS THERE WHEN YOU FIRST BOUND YOURSELF TO US. FALSE AMBITION HAS ALWAYS POISONED YOUR MIND, GUL'DAN.—
Anger pierced Gul'dan's contentment. "False?" He used his new strength to reach through his link with Kil'jaeden. He saw the eredar's face. "You planned to discard me from the beginning."
Kil'jaeden's blazing eyes met Gul'dan's without blinking.
—NO, GUL'DAN. WE TEMPT THE WEAK WITH TRINKETS AND FLEETING REWARDS. WE PROMISED YOU MUCH, MUCH MORE.—
It was the absolute truth. For all his flaws, for all his focus on petty spite and his pauper's ambition, Gul'Dan did have true potential. He had an internal drive that matched any in the Legion, a genuine aptitude for fel magic, and a certain cunning that would serve well in the conquest of the remaining worlds.
Gul'dan sneered. "Bigger bait for a bigger fish. But you would have gutted me all the same."
—YOU DIED BECAUSE YOU BETRAYED US. YOU WERE MEANT TO HELP MY HORDE EXTERMINATE ALL RESISTANCE ON THIS WORLD. YET AT THE MOMENT OF TRUTH, YOU ABANDONED THEM. YOU SPLIT THEIR ARMIES TO CLAIM THIS PLACE. OUR PLANS CAME TO NOTHING. YOU EARNED YOUR FATE.—
"That was not me!" Gul'dan roared, fury causing spittle to fly from his mouth which burned into the stone floor, his eyes widened with maddening exasperation. Still, the orc persisted in his false beliefs.
—BETRAYAL IS IN YOUR NATURE. I DRAGGED YOU HERE BY THE SCRUFF OF YOUR NECK BECAUSE YOU ARE STILL TOO FOOLISH TO UNDERSTAND YOUR FULL POTENTIAL. EVEN NOW, YOU BELIEVE THE POWER YOU HOLD IS SIGNIFICANT. YOU LACK VISION.—
Kil'Jaden stood up from his throne of polished crystals and metal- a memorabilia from old Argus. He looked down on his rebellious servant with a father's disappointment.
—I HAD HOPED YOU WOULD HAVE GREATER VISION THAN YOUR OTHER SELF. PERHAPS YOU STILL WILL.—
"I'm afraid you're about to be disappointed again, master," Gul'dan said. "I see no reason to overcome my false ambition."
Kil'jaeden leaned forward. The air seemed to quake.
—FROM THE BEGINNING, YOU BELIEVED YOU WERE DESTINED FOR POWER. YOU ARE. YOU ALSO BELIEVED YOU WERE DESTINED TO BE YOUR OWN MASTER.—
His next words thundered with finality.
—THAT WILL NEVER HAPPEN.—
"No?" Gul'dan said softly. "Given the circumstances—"
Kil'Jaden cut him off.
—EVERY CREATURE SERVES A MASTER. EVEN I. THAT IS THE CHOICE OF ALL: SERVE ANOTHER, OR DIE ALONE.—
Gul'dan was unmoved. "Perhaps you will bow to me one day, Deceiver," he said. Kil'Jaden felt no need to respond to that, confident in the knowledge that even the power of the tomb paled before his own. Instead, he spoke of that which Gul'dan so often overlooked- long term planning.
—HOW FAR CAN YOU GO? HOW MANY WORLDS CAN YOU RULE? THE POWER YOU HOLD WILL NOT LAST FOREVER. YOU ARE NOTHING BEFORE THE LEGION.—
"We shall see."
—SERVITUDE IS NOT IMPRISONMENT. YOU WILL SERVE ME. OTHERS WILL SERVE YOU. IMAGINE BEING THE MASTER OF SO MANY. IMAGINE THE RANKS OF THE LEGION AT YOUR COMMAND. IMAGINE WHAT YOU WILL BURN FOR US.—
Gul'dan regarded Kil'jaeden with skepticism. Kil'jaeden sensed distance growing between them.
—ENOUGH, GUL'DAN. MAKE YOUR CHOICE. YOU CAN PROVE YOURSELF LOYAL. RETURN YOUR POWER TO THE PORTAL, AND THE WAY WILL OPEN. OR YOU CAN BETRAY US YET AGAIN. YOUR ONLY SATISFACTION BEFORE WE DESTROY YOU WILL BE MEANINGLESS VENGEANCE ON INSIGNIFICANT MORTALS.—
The eredar offered a parting thought.
—KNOW THIS: YOU CAN CALL ME "DECEIVER," BUT I DID NOT LIE TO YOU. NOT ONCE. NOT IN THIS WORLD, AND NOT IN YOURS.—
With that, Kil'jaeden pushed Gul'dan's mind away, like a fishing line cast out to sea. But not severed.
With an exasperated sigh, Kil'Jaden returned to his throne. He was not about to give up on his servant, not yet, but as ever his time was limited. He had invested enough of it into Gul'dan; now there were conquests to monitor. With a gesture, he activated his warmap, which allowed him to view the Legion's active conquests across space and time. Right now billions of conflicts were fought across the varied realities; many of which were unnecessary to the overall vision. In his mind's eye he could see them, faint clusters of vast lights, each branching off each other until they narrowed into a central branch. Only this river among tributaries was truly important. He narrowed his focus onto that realm.
There were millions of conflicts across the span of the universe. Many were foregone conclusions, the attacks of small Legion expeditions on worlds with unevolved intelligent life or life forms that had not yet developed the illusions of civilization. A few were vast invasions of exterminations, against worlds with blossoming civilizations yet untamed. There were so few of them now, when Kil'Jaden had started he could find millions per galactic cluster, like a vast untended garden that had been filled with weeds and undesirable plants. Now, a dozen, maybe two, per cluster in a universe of tens of thousands of such groupings.
Kil'Jaden focused on a few, the magic of the battle map allowing him to zoom from a universe to planet side to ground level in mere moments. He focused on a few conflicts that had earlier caught his interest, for those were wars in which the Legion was, currently, losing. At least in direct combat.
On a world covered by a great world jungle, the legion invaded from a thousand points, blemishing the surface like pox-sores on the diseased. Their entry was not uncontested, though this world possessed no great civilization and only the most primitive of sapient societies. Instead, the wildlife itself- bulging hammerhead monstrosities, vaguely felinid panther-like creatures, vertebrae whose legs stood over the treetops- attacked in vast waves, their strangely coordinated thrusts crushing legion felguards and retreating before Legion sorcerors and artillery could bring their arsenals fully to bear. Hulking sapients, vaguely draenei in shape and ocean blue complexion but taller, more agile and with longer tails, loped alongside the beasts, striking at the broken ranks and dueling evenly, in strength, with the felguard. Overhead the skies were filled with these blue natives riding on vast reptilian flyers dueling alongside thousands of legion felbats and a dozen capital cruisers.
Kil'Jaden considered the planet, with its unnatural coordination among species and uncanny knowledge of the weakpoints in the Legion bases. The answer to the question came, almost intuitively, to the daemon lord, for in assaulting the span of creation there were few possibilities yet unknown to him. The world itself was the coordinator and commander, and even now he could feel its psychic energy creating a peripheral hive mind. In contrast to the god-mind of a titan, it was a vast neural network composed of the sums of innumerable parts.
Incredibly, the living planet seemed poised to throw back the invaders. Yet Kil'Jaden cared not, for the battle had long been won.
Fel. The magic and blood of daemons. Wherever a daemon walks, bleeds or uses magic, fel spreads like maggots on a corpse. Already, tens of thousands of daemons had died, perished, and their life blood had seeped into the earth causing corruption and madness. Legion sorcerers had fueled this onset, using magical rituals and devices to spread their deadly craft like a gardener would water. It would spread through the roots of thirsting plants and hungry gullets of victorious monsters. Like a plague they, in turn, would spread their infection to others. The neural network would only serve to amplify the corruption across the psychic field and soon enough the world would be beset by uncontrollable madness. The Legion would mop up what was left.
As he watched, he felt once more the tug of communication from his errant disciple. Gul'dan was reaching out, regretting his burst of independence. Kil'Jaden was wise to the concerns of mortals and knew that the reconciliation attempts came not from a true desire to rebuild bridges, but more likely from his own fear and apprehension. Doubtless, he found the mortals of Azxoerth more formidable than he reckoned, realizing at last what the overwhelming majority of the Legion could not. The daemon lord briefly assessed the origin of the telepathic communication before casting the beleaguered Gul'dan aside, like a fisherman dissatisfied with his catch. In only pane was Gul'dan truly important and it was not that one.
He zoomed out from the doomed living world, refocusing instead on a collection of highlights spanning a couple dozen planets of a galaxy. A stellar empire, one of the few left for Kil'Jaden had been quite meticulous in targeting those first. Vision sped further in, until the daemon could see the conflicts below. Legions of daemons, each battle group in the tens of thousands strong, battled a flightless avian-like race in the gutted corpse of one of their metal metropolises. Alien weaponry, firing solid slug projectiles at stupendous speed, carved through daemon armor like butchers blade's through mortal guts. Tanks taller than the largest elekk hovered above the ground firing bolts of such speed that they liquefied all those that passed in close proximity of the projectile trajectory.
Yet the daemons marched on, heedless of their causalities and even mocking of the mortal's efforts. What worth did the mangled body or torn flesh hold, when the soul was eternal? A thousand could perish for every mortal finally dragged down and still the weight of worth would be in the Legion's favor. Moreover, the Legion did not intend to win this conflict on the battlefield. The offer of immortality had ever been proven enticing to those that sought to extend their own lifespans. Some acceded to the siren's call without much prompt from the denizens of the nether, for rotten hearts festered like spiritual tumors, while others simply required a little…push.
Cults had spread like pestilence among the unwashed and unclean. Well placed commanders, enticed by daemonic dreams, gave contradictory orders or commandments which put their men into great peril. Saboteurs infiltrated infrastructure and brought it crumbling down while Legion assassins, guided by the whisperings of hidden cultists, stalked the enemy high command. As with so many other mortal civilizations they would fall from within if they could not be conquered throughout.
Outside of Kil'Jaden's vision, he felt his lure, his remaining connection to Gul'dan, shake. Through that spiritual connection, held distant but not entirely severed, he felt his wayward disciple's mood change fully from jubilance to apprehension and fear. This time it was the Gul'dan of the central timeframe who felt such wariness. Like a fisherman who knew his One Great Catch was imminent, Kil'Jaden put a bit more focus onto maintaining the coherency of the connection as his physical vision shifted, once more, to a new warzone.
Kil"jaden grimaced as he glanced at the planet before him. Where the others had been beset by the plague of mortal life, this planet had an entirely different sort of corruption. From pole to pole, the planet was covered by overlapping links of shadowy, incandescent tendrils all of which led to seven amorphous masses that clung to the planet's body like giant pustules. This was the domain of the old ones and madness was its name. Here the soldiers of the Legion fought, for the first time, not with fearless glee but with concerned apprehension and reluctance.
Along the surface battlegroups of legion soldiers, in the hundreds of thousands, fought against hordes of gibbering flesh-monsters and crazed chanting mortals - the sad, sorry remnants of those who had previously called this world home. Fel fire clashed with the essence of the Void in sparks of twilight that illuminated the surface of the planet. Portals of daemonic reserves met with rifts of the Void, who served the same purpose, each spilling forth unending tides of reinforcements onto the planet. Legion capital ships glassed whole segments of the planet only to be seized and crushed in the tentacles of unseen monsters who had not yet managed to achieve a full foothold in the mortal realm. Fel infusions and daemonic whispers of temptation were laughed at and cast aside with mockery by the void-maddened legions below, while those of the Burning Crusade fell in troubling numbers to supreme madness.
When Sargeras first spoke to Archimonde and Kil'Jaden about the power of the Void, Kil'Jaden had been skeptical, in the least. What could a bunch of shadows, fearful of the light, hold to the infinite might of the Burning Legion? Now, he knew better. This was the true enemy of the Legion and all their efforts, all their destruction, had been spent to ensure they could not inherit creation, for a burnt, lifeless universe was empathetically better than one in their thrall.
Kil'Jaden glanced upon the single eye of one of the pustules, an organ as large as the mightiest city on Azeroth. As he watched, it blinked.
Then the lure shook and Kil'Jaden paid no more heed to the aberration that writhed in his physical sight. Gul'Dan had returned the power that was stolen! Like a Fisherman of Old Argus who had, at last, achieved his grand catch, Kil'Jaden greedily reeled in the returned magical reservoir, eager to open the path to Azeroth, the True Azeroth- the crown jewel of creation- at last! Already his army of daemons waited, practically (or, in some cases, literally) salivating for the chance to consume the titan world. Kil'Jaden reached out and, for the first time in ages, proclaimed his sincere gratitude towards his now returned servant. Already the portal was forming, as Kil'Jaden weaved a long prepared spell that summoned the cross-dimensional gateway into existence. Hot, fel-infused air- that of Argus itself- rushed into the chamber.
—WELL DONE, GUL'DAN. YOU DO INDEED HAVE THE VISION THA-
Kil'jaden's communication halted abruptly, as the remaining magical reservoir, mere inches from his metaphorical fingers, came to a complete standstill. He extended his mind further, only for another power, to pull it out of his reach. Beyond fury, Kil'jaden moved to admonish servant for the treachery and promise a eternity of cruel retribution only to stop short when he saw the orc's expression register one of confusion and shock. In incredulity now, Kil'Jaden looked past Gul'dan to the two mortals who the orc had clashed with, only to see the confusion was unanimous.
"Master, what is happening?"
Kil'Jaden cursed, all calm countenance gone. He reached out with greater power, a greater tug to reel his catch in at last. The opposing force buckled, initially, before his pressure. In his tug Kil'Jaden felt a measure of his foe and grinned, for no servant of the Void had ever managed to overpower the daemon lord in a contest of direct strength.
And then the opposing force returned the tug, tenfold. This time the tug came not from Azeroth but from the nascent formed portal itself! This time he felt not only the faint tug of shadows but, another force, another player, wielding an unknown magic- wilder, livelier and more chaotic than the shadows it stood in alliance with.
Kil'Jaden's mental grasp slipped as he lost not only his catch but his instrument. Before the daemon could recover, this unseen interloper pulled all that magic into the portal. The air shimmered, the composition changed, and Kil'Jaden could hear the frustrated howls of the daemon army of Argus. Cold air, tinged with a magic unfamiliar to the daemon, blasted the tomb. Before the stunned daemon could reach out to help him, the unknown force seized ahold of Gul'dan and wrenched him into the portal.
The gateway shimmered a final time before settling still, an unwanted pathway now open.
For many long moments- whole hours by the mortal timeframe- Kil'Jaden sat rock still, stunned and bewildered and, for the first time in a long time, a little stricken. In the entire universe, only Sargeras could have overpowered him so easily. Neither Naaru nor servant of Void- even the so-called 'Old Gods' could have outmatched him magically in such a manner. The Titans and Void Gods perhaps could have, but the former were long gone and the latter could not manifest but faint apparitions of themselves.
Kil'Jaden glanced through the portal and saw lands that were not immediately recognizable. Then again, Kil'Jaden had gazed upon literally millions of mortal worlds in his tenure and knew he could be forgiven for forgetting one or two. Still, the magic was unfamiliar which was a more concerning detail.
Kil'Jaden, who was a master of the arcane first before moving to fel, had made it a point to learn all the varied magics of the universe. From an academic perspective mostly, as fel did not mix well with many other fields of magic. He had studied the many mysteries of the Void, sneered at the sanctimonious light, mastered the magic of death and looked down, contemptuously , on the limited magics of the elements and life. Minor lores existed of course, for mortals can and did invent surprising new techniques, but none- so far- had been able to compete with the magic of the Twisting Nether. This planet's energy, however, had.
Kil'Jaden turned his attention to his war map once more, intent on using it to view the world before him. At the moment, however, the vision was still fixed upon the malignant world of the Void. The fighting on the corrupted planet had petered out, the Legion assaults fading before the Void onslaught. As Kil'Jaden prepared to turn off the viewer in frustration he glanced, once more, at the giant pustule's enormous eye. It blinked at him.
AN: This was one of the harder stories to write, as I had to write it from Kil'Jaden's cosmic level. To provide some background, in Warcraft the main timeline are described as a river that flows ever onwards. From this river emerges countless tributaries, creeks and and lakes- the result of choices and possibilities branching off from the main universe. However, without continued interaction from the main universe, these alternate timelines with eventually die and fade into nothing.
To make this a bit more confusing, the realm of the daemons-the Twisting Nether- is said to transcend all timelines and be the same throughout. Thus they can see every alternate version of someone, every possibility. Doubtless, this infinite variety is probably why many daemons think mortals are made.
Worm1 As described in the message, there are actually hints of other underground civilizations that either once or might have existed. The insect empire of Orcslayer, the empire of Worms referenced in Malus Darkblade novels, a second underground civilization referenced in the AB, and some brief background lore in Tamurkhan.
Also you are right about the glands thing. My mistake
MadFrog2000 Thank you sir! Rest assured we will be seeing more of Gul'dan soon!
Dios You got it!
True Skull Actually this scene was part of the plan, its just what came after that was not!