The trek back up the stairs was quiet for the first three levels. Bali'ir and Gortag were slung across dire ravens and Kali'ir and Gorka hovered silently by their sides, keeping the injured and exhausted fighters in place. Their recovery was going to be something that Magic couldn't simply shrug off so they required special attention. I was happy to allow them that, it kept them out of my hair and not tempting my [Irritable] trait and aided the impression I cared for those under my command. Such beliefs were important to any prospective leader.

Of equal importance are appearing to have a plan, something I'm quite good at even in the heart of chaos, and leading from the front. The distant wise, majestic and occasionally tyrannic king is good for running an empire, but I'm nowhere near that threshold yet. Case in point, my followers number less than fifty and by the sounds of battle up ahead, I am reminded that three of them didn't take part in the last battle.

A small surge of power adds some alacrity to my party as a haste spell snaps into place. The battle is in the room just beneath the surface of the terrace, but by all indications, started on the surface. Dead doom-guard, fel-guard and the occasional dire-raven litter the steps while an aura of golden light strobes unevenly out of the chamber to the left.

I am prompted by [Guided by Arcane] to pause outside the door and in doing so narrowly avoid being flattened by a flying fel-stalker, one of it's magic consuming tentacles severed and squirting puss, the other a smoking wreck. The creatures chest is caved in and I watch, impressed as violet arkonite shard whizzes past my face to spear it through the heart. The creature makes it through the other door before exploding in a violent arcane-fel reaction.

Well, now. Isn't THAT interesting.

Before my party can pile up behind me, I rush into the room and step to the side, taking survey of the encounter. Burning like a star and sweating like a pig, Samaara is parrying the blows of three more fel-guard and slowly working the demons over with her mace. One of her arms is blackened and hanging limp, but still the light fuels her like a vamperic version of Starwars Force, giving her the strength, speed and foresight to solo an army, all the while taking a toll on the spirit channeling it. The process wasn't as bad or as insidious as the void or physically and mentally corrupting like fel, but hurt for the same reason.

Behind her, Naal'ga furiously operated a strange arcane device that on closer observation provided an active resistance type shield. It projected a globular plum aura that ended just behind Samaara's shapely (tail-less) butt. When the shield was struck by the Legions magic, instead of losing a chunk or creating a localized explosion as was normal for order/chaos reactions, a black miasma sprang up, absorbing the chaos before floating forward to seek out the spell casters harassing the trio. Naal'ga sported a blackened crater on one side of his face, another several scars across his stomach and two star shaped burns on either side of his neck. Those last two were telltale signs of an encounter with that fel-stalker that had just died.

Beside Naal'ga was Mennu. My engineer was the only one still uninjured. Grinning like shark he's hefting a gigantic crystal shaped suspiciously like a fantasy assault rifle. Flowing from it's tip was a respectable stream of arcane missiles that buzzed out like hornets to harass the demons assaulting them. His shots were much more spray and pray than precise fire and the blade like bolts of arcane force move far too fast for their normal seeking action, but he nonetheless managed to provide pain to the demons and desperately needed openings for Samaara. How he wasn't hitting her is either a sign of much greater control than is apparent, or a miracle of luck.

As I watch, in the space between heart-beats provided by my haste spell, he slowly loads another shard of arkonite from a satchel hanging off his waist and takes much more careful aim than the wild rain I've been seeing so far. He's lining up a shot on one of the Tothreziem Inquisitors providing magic support to the Demonic forces in the terrace. There are several orcs on the stairs leading down who are missing heads, but whether those are from Samaara's mace or Mennu's gun, I've no idea.

Regardless, these monsters have hurt my followers and they need to die. As my remaining forces flood into the room under my haste spell, I raise the modified Highmaul Staff of Office and cast. At my command, tendrils of shadow leap out of the walls and spit ice at the attacking demons. Transmute shadow to ice isn't merely convenient, it's also ironic and effective against the emerald fire of the burning Legion. The residual void consumes and suppresses the fel power while the ice quenches their fetish for flame by freezing them solid. Time resumes it's normal pace in a shower of bloody popsicles as Samaara's hammer scythes through the suddenly immobile monsters.

The look on her face is precious. I wish now more and more I had a camera. Ah well, the Gnomes will come soon enough.

Naal'Suul shatters the Tothreziem Inquisitor, exploding through him with a blink-strike and Kiel'ndia moves to guard position at the stairway entrance. Seeing the battle...more or less resolved, I begin barking orders.

"Jasune! Heal Samaara! Mennu! Join Kiel at the stairs, we'll be talking about that gun later! Bali'ir, your brother will be fine, heal Naal'ga or join Kiel and Mennu on the stairs! GO!" The draenei hesitate briefly but shock into action at my final roar and I head over to the injured parties. "Naal'ga," I command the mans attention as Bali'ir begins rubbing faintly glowing hands over his wounds "you look dead on your feet. Does that machine require your direct intervention to work? Or can I just haul it outside as a defensive turret?"

The famine cursed goat-man cringes at me, in psychic pain more than physical. "It's not meant to behave this way. The array is a scrying tool, meant to measure the currents of void energy and subtly part them for more detailed analysis. It came in a moment of desperation and i have to wrestle with it constantly to do what I did. As you can see," he gestures to his now fading injuries "it's not totally successful even then."

"You could have just said no." I chuckle slightly at the hypocrisy of my statement. "Do you think you could modify it to make this it's intended purpose? Or take what you've learned to build a dedicated device?" I push. "I've an entire mountain of materials if that's a concern."

He hesitates, eyes lighting up from their pained haze as he thinks about the possibilities. "I...think so. The Genedar had something similar, for tunneling through the Nether as we moved between planets, dodging the Legion and the Void Gods. It would... take me some time though."

I lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder and offer my warmest smile. "Take all the time you need. For now though, see if you and Bali'ir can drag this upstairs and use it to guard the entrance."

He nods and Bali'ir scowls at me before saluting. The pair get moving and I turn my attention to Samaara and Jasune. Naal'Suul has already vanished up the stairs but Gorka has entered the room and begun helping Jasune, drawing water from nowhere to englobe the mutated draenei's wound. It looks somewhere between brilliantly glowing armor and a slime doing it's best to eat her.

"Sam." I say, quietly. "Are you alright?"

She looks at me, unsure. "...yes" she nods. "Did you find what you were after?" I grin smugly, and hand her Mor'Gok's modified staff. She recognizes the crystal affixed to the end of it instantly and her eyes go wide, her knees weak, and I have to catch her so Jasune and Gorka don't lose their grip on the healing spells. "The Gift of the Naaru..."

"The Eye of the Storm," I agree, a hand under each armpit. "Don't worry, it will be put to good use. And with it, the three the Horde stole will be returned to your people as well. Hell, as useful as Eye is, I may not even borrow Leaf, Star and Heart before returning them to Velen."

"...I'll hold you to that" she replies quietly, searching my face. "And thank you... for saving my life."

My grin returns, full of teeth. "That's what the hero does." I chuckle. "Ready to get back out there?"

Jasune spoke up. "She has a severe case of magical exhaustion. Her arm is mostly healed, but aside from a supporting role, she'll be more danger on the front line than an aid."

I give the man a raise brow. "I'll take that under advisement." I reply dryly. "It's up to her though. I think we can trust the Paladins judgement on this..."

She stiffens at that, finding her feet and moving herself off my hands. Her face becomes a determined mask and she salutes. "I will do what is required of me!"

"That's my girl..." I murmur with a smile. "Gorka?"

"The wound is healed" she grunts. "The scars on her soul will take more time" she nods to Jasune "but she is ready to hunt small game."

"Party buffs then" I quip. They look at me oddly and I just turn towards the door with a grin.

~! #$%^&*()_+~! #$%^&*()_+~! #$%^&*()_+

The surface, as it turns out, is alot more quiet than the frantic action we just stumbled upon would suggest. With Naal'ga's nether antenna operating, Mennu and Kiel could fire upon the incoming demons with more or less impunity. The Terrace itself also offered a fairly clear field of fire and the converging demons were fewer than there should have been for a game scenario. The reason for this was soon revealed as Draenei began to step into sight, orcish and demonic summoners hanging limply from their arms.

During one of the lulls i approached Mennu. "I wasn't aware the Draenei knew of guns." I told him, conversationally.

He hefted the three rail rifle. "This? They're not common. It's a scaled down version of the Genedar's own armament."

Both of my brows raised at that, but then I remembered the Vindicar and it's solar cannon, salvaged from the Xenedar. "Can you build more of them?" I asked, noting Kiel'ndia's naked look of avarice with a sympathetic smirk.

"Hmm... maybe" he replies. "The enchanting is rather intensive. Each one is a masterwork, and easily destroyed in melee besides."

I shrug. "I have a mountain of the base material and staying out of melee range is the whole point." I rebut him.

He chuckles and carefully lines up another shot, blowing a massive hole in the wing of a doom-guard, causing it to fall out of the sky with a roar of rage. He curses softly and shrugs, turning to me as even more Draenei show up on our terrace and even fewer demons appear in view. "You make a good argument," he concedes. "Give me some time... without adventures" he adds pointedly "and I can start making more. It will also delay our deal in which I start teaching you though."

I nod. "I'll need to find some time between adventures myself." [Teacher], [Scholar] and [Crafter] though insist I get on it. And soon.

As we talk, The Prophet himself finally shows up. For a massive city, Karabor was very sparsely populated. With orcs at least. Demons were another issue. This was largely because I had messed up the timeline, opening the dark portal more than a year early, before Blackhand was forced to start banishing tribes from Hellfire and eating the Hordes mounts for lack of game. On one hand, this means that a bunch of the infighting from the "long silence" hasn't happened yet. This is very bad, because not only are the Horde's ranks nearly doubled, but the more monstrous clans are now on Azeroth, rather than eating each other in exile on the far corners of Draenor. On the other hand, the much more moderate clans of Lightning Blade, Whiteclaw, Redwalker and Frostwolf haven't been decimated and my attacks on Cho'Gall have crippled his void side, meaning he won't be taming the Twilights Hammer and the Horde will be forced to fight the Dark Iron clans if he's not strong enough in the Void to play Twilight Ambassador.

The Searing Gorge and Blackrock Mountain are both deathtraps, having to actually fight the dwarves should take care of that overflow quite nicely.

In theory.

I'm pretty sure.

And it's the logical step if the Bronze Flight want to oppose my meddling. Which they will, because one true timeline. And CYOA. And logic. Whiiiich may not apply to dragons. Because alien psychology. Fuck.

"The city is ours." Velen booms suddenly, breaking my contemplations. Much more quietly, he turns to me. "You accomplished what you were here to do?"

I tilt my head to the side. "You didn't see this already?" I suppose it shouldn't surprise me, despite our talks thus far, he probably hasn't gotten the hand of combing through the spaghetti future of Void Prophesy, and void magic is the hole, the caveat as it were, in Light Prophesy. Ironic, given Light is the origin of chaos and Void is base for order, but light prophesy is just shy of deterministic whereas void prophesy is complete chaos. "I guess you have only just started seeing what the darkness hides." The crowd of Justicar, Vindicar and Rangari shift uncomfortably. They trust their prophet, and so they don't attack me, but I'm still the corrupting force.

I show him my staff, Eye of the Storm spinning slowly at it's head. "A Nathreziem by the name of Culuthrax was trying to steal this from the vaults downstairs. He intends to use the seven to take command of the Legion for his dark masters. The winds of fate dictated that he would fail here, but in twenty years the Horde would separate you from Spirits Song," specifically the Blood Elf attack on the Zenedar, I'm pretty sure "and he would take possession of it. Heroes from the new world would battle alongside Nexus Prince Haramad to retrieve it. It would then be traded by the prince to A'dal as part of the Army of Lights effort to retake Karabor... and put the Naaru in the Prince's debt. The Eye would rest in the temple, forgotten, for another decade, until it is recovered by warlocks intent on bringing the Legion to the new world in force. They too would be defeated by heroes of the new world, who would deliver The Eye to the Prince of Dragons... in exchange for... trinkets."

"And now you have broken fate" Velen intones, "again."

And sacrificed a powerful soul to my benefactor. Does that make me a warlock? Or am I still a mage? "I've shortened the timetable." I dismiss. "Are you ready to cleanse the temple?"

He nods and look up. Somehow, somehow I've managed not to notice K'ure moving the entire fucking mountain that is Azarat'kure above the city. It's got to be invisibility, because there was no teleport backlash. From on high, K'ure descends and Velen draws from his cloak, a violet crystal.

My senses go into overdrive as [Guided by Arcane] screams at me. This is no mere chunk of Arkonite, this purple crystal is the same as the orange one in Velen's other hand.

The same crystal I just lectured him on not even a minute ago.

Spirits Song.

When the Naaru can't run, and can't fight, they bring out the Ata'mal crystals. Damn I am prophetic. Or is it genre savvy? Not sure.

"Yes," Velen replied dryly "we shall cleanse the Temple."

I look between the two crystals in the prophets hands, the one in my staff, K'ure who is now humming like the worlds smuggest violin and the gigantic crystal mountain. As the pieces fit together in my mind, I can't help but laugh. For all my efforts to break fate, I've accidentally brought together all of the necessary elements to accomplish my task. Fate is not a line, but a river. Shield of the Naaru requires power. Azarat'Kure IS power. Shield of the Naaru could cleanse the entire temple by itself, though that would waste a hell of a lot of power. However, in addition to a barrier, it gives those sheltering under it the blessings of the light. The Light wears on the soul, but with the shield, the effect is lessened. With Spirits Song present, the effect should be entirely negated. That leaves the physical trauma of channeling the Arcane power required from Azarat'Kure. But paired with Eye of the Storm that's not an issue, you wouldn't even need Spirits Song in that case. Not really. But... if we build on what we've been doing so far, Netherlight Forging rather than cleansing, you come out with a power gain, despite the great effort expended.

There are other implications however. Spirits Song can command souls and elemental spirits. If there's one thing Draenor's famous for, it's the great spiritual power of the land. There may be no Titan Soul, and with the Hordes predation much of that spirit has been consumed by fel, however... with Spirits Song and a great infusion of freshly minted Arcane power... Yes..., that's a possibility.

Nodding to Velen, I raise my staff and start. Great streams of energy reach down from the floating mountain and connect to Eye of the Storm. They connect and reality begins to warp and twist, but Eye of the Storm controls it long past the point it should have become a mini-big-bang. Under my direction the power splits into three, fueling both Spirits Song and the Shield of the Naaru, while the third tentacle begins spinning up a massive array. A bubble of radiant bliss springs up around us immediately as my array begins to draw in the greater taint of the Black Temple. Into the space between the spell and the Shield, moves K'ure.

From that point, the ritual proceeds...pretty much as we've established it. The area is drained of Void energy and fed into the Naaru's dark eye. On the other side, the Draenai fuel the counterbalance by channeling the light into the remaining light aligned 'eye'. Only this time, faster and without the spiritual fatigue due to the presence of Spirit's Song. Faster still, with Shield of the Naaru absorbing prodigious amounts of power from above, and providing a window into the Light side of the Twisting Nether.

But... as has also been firmly established over the last few weeks, I'm prone to cheating. While the ritual was going on, I direct another stream of power out of Spirits song, and begin weaving it into an infusion. That infusion latches onto the two lower most legs of K'ure where the newly minted arcane power is pouring out of the windchime and into Draenor's ley line network.

The effect of this is twofold.

First, as the core of every elemental is elemental spirit, this will change the infusion of arcane power into a new elemental spirit for Draenor. Gone are the four furies, now there shall be five.
Second, just as I corrupted K'ure to arcane before, I'm once again corrupting him to spirit now. And as Nature/Life and death are spirit tainted with just the lightest touch of Light and Void... well, you get the idea. This is after all, a stated purpose of Spirits Song. To control elemental beings.

It's not perfect though. While I manage to convert the chosen sections to Spirit (and with a bit of help from [Guided by Arcane] not disrupt the ritual) without Spirits Song, Arcane does not convert into Elemental spirit. Not directly and not easily. It forces me to maintain the effort or lose the conversion to the energy outflow. This in turn stalls my further plans, several of them, at least until the city is cleansed, or abandon my efforts to change K'ure. I can accomplish this later, but without Spirits Song... it will not be a simple matter. And likely as not, I won't be getting the chance to use it again.

Well... maybe. I suppose it depends on how much of a bastard I want to be. Take it myself, or let Quel'thalas fall. I wonder how high the bar would be for Velen to loan it to me willingly?

What am I talking about? I'm a Mystically Professed [Pirate]! I'll just borrow it, should the occasion come up!

The ritual finishes after four hours, six hours faster than last time we did the ritual on this level in Arrak. As the last shadow drains itself from the brick and mortar of the holy metropolis, K'ure stops feeding off the Shield of the Naaru as well, and the mana coming in from above causes the light of heaven to bloom as though it were the early stage of a nuclear explosion. White-gold creation magic and aquamarine spirit essence fills the air with a hum and the entire city changes. Like watching the end of Beauty and the Beast where the curse is broken and the Gothic Fortress once more becomes the Princes Palace, the stone becomes varying hues of cream and metal all over the city turns to Coper, Silver and Gold. Burnt out, shattered and smoking crystal work heals and reforms itself, taking on a preternaturally calming aquamarine glow and a dome forms itself over the city. Before I cut the streams of raw power, I can almost swear I see the shadow of an six winged angel forming over the central ziggurat, but either it disperses or I imagined it, because when I blink, it's gone.

That's not the only change either. While not light-forged by the experience (?thankfully?) everybody in attendance looks visibly fitter and healthier. Not merely healed, but with extra muscle definition height, or in the case of the women, curves. In particular, my Auschwitz refugee 'Thurmite' band also looks as though their experience had never happened to them, and a weight seems to have lifted off their brows. I'll have to see later if the effect has extended up to the 3 or so dozen still hiding on my ship, though. It's a bit funny as well, given Bali'ir and Kali'ir are gagging as they struggle to remove their now tightly constricting armor.

I take mercy on them, and the full-plate shatters, leaving them just shy of naked in the clothes the Orcs had seen fit to give them.

The important thing however, is the roar building around me. The Draenei are cheering. The city is cleansed. One of two hearts of the Exiled Ones civilization has been reclaimed. And Samarra's face suddenly fills my vision.

~! #$%^&*()_+~! #$%^&*()_+~! #$%^&*()_+ Sorry. Is anyone actually interested in watching me struggle to write a hot and heavy sex scene? Despite having had sex, after six attempts I feel no confidence in my ability to write even a lemon.

I awoke the next morning to a warm body curled up against my chest and a sensual moan from somewhere beneath my chin. Opening my eyes and looking down, I smiled to see a completely naked Samaara nuzzling into my chest. Memories of the night came back to me and I grinned broadly. We both stank heavily of sweat and sex and I doubt the hornless, hoofless draenei woman was going to be walking straight for a few days at least. Was I a cad for taking advantage of the moment and the draenei's obvious hero worship? Yes. Did I regret it? I had [Lustful] and [Harem King] as purchased traits. The real question is why I didn't or perhaps wasn't pushed to this sooner.

The part of me that's still human and wants a relationship with someone I know, probably.

Yawning, I stroke Samaara's neck and back, causing her to shiver and open her eyes. They go wide for a moment as she remembers the events of last night. I continue to stroke her back and she snuggles in closer.

She bites her lip and looks up at me. "So, ah...are we going to talk about this?"

I shrug. "What's there to talk about? I didn't force you. We both had fun. You knew what I was after before enthusiastically agreeing."

"Yes..., but is that all?" She asks, worry on her brow. "With my people, we normally court for decades and partnerships are...typically... between lifelong friends or, ah..."

"Professional colleagues?"

She nods. "We also don't have a good history with halfbreeds. In over twenty thousand years, only a handful haven't been the result of rape. It's been of particular issue on this world with the orcs and..." She blushes blue, then nearly black.

"Ogres." I finish for her. "I won't apologize for my people. They are what they are, and few are as kind or eloquent as I."

She stares at me flatly, though the corner of her mouth twitches. "You're not particularly kind or well spoken."

I roll onto my back, and slap one hand to my chest. "Ah, I am wounded. How shall I ever recover!" Looking over at her, my chuckle fades. "As for ogres and halfbreeds go though, you should see the Mok'Nathal."

She grimaces. "I have. The boulderfist has sent them to battle us before. Just prior to the elemental upheaval and rise of the Demonic Horde."

"Does this mean you want to leave?" I ask, softly. She doesn't answer. "Well then, we shall continue our travels, and see where it takes us." I get out of bed and offer her a hand. She blushes again, looking at me, and I smirk. She takes my hand, allowing me to help her up, and my smirk splits into a full-blow grin.

~! #$%^&*()_+~! #$%^&*()_+~! #$%^&*()_+

As Samaara and I return to the ship the Draenei are already busy as ants. There aren't enough Draenei left on the planet to fill even the one city. For quite some time in fact it'll be a ghost town, but as trenches are blasted into the ground on the city outskirts and blocks of white crystal laid in, it'll soon be safe enough for that population to be restored. As soon as I get to the safety of my own ship, If find that the Draenei on my ship have also been restored to full health, though there are fewer than before.

That's gratitude for you.

After asking around, because perhaps the missing 'Thurmites' are down getting provisions, memento's an armor for our trip, but they're not. They've left others to convey their abject gratitude to me while they themselves rejoin their people as they restore their home. For my part,..I don't care. It's depressing, but I still have enough minions to crew the ship. I order Mennu and Naal'ga to begin upgrading my spellbound vessel with Draenic technology and head for the wheel-house. Jamming my staff into the floor of the room, I disconnect the ship from Azarat'kure and begin casting spells.

Ten minutes of conjuration later and the walls have widened, a third lower cargo bay is formed and dozens of crystals begin to warp space. With a grin, I spin the wheel and manipulate the spell holding the crystal mountain so that the flattened egg shape is level with the ground. Then I descend on the mountain as if to land. Except, as the open hull nears the crystal surface, it begins to spaghetti string as though being drawn into a black hole and soon vanishes into the closing doors of the cargo bay. TARDIS shipping and freight, we are go!

Another random crew member, Khan'dur or something I think, rushes up to me, reporting the action as successful. The mountain is in the hull, and there's no spacial sheering as you move up and down the stairs or into the expanded cargo bay.

"There is little room to move however." he told me in a deep smooth voice. "We will have to carve into it as though mining before it is comfortable below."

I shrug. The details are unimportant.

But now for the move that justifies my entire life as Thurm.

It's time to pass through the dark portal.