Hello everyone! Sorry I didn't realize this short story was posted all goofy, on my computer it seemed normal. Also, please don't forget, I absolutely detest the idea of one single Burning Legion amongst multiple universes. It just doesn't make any sense. I'd be more than happy to discuss that further with anyone, whether you agree or not. Enjoy!
The Importance of Azeroth
"It is a shame, Moordrinar, that your old trinkets should have perished on Azeroth. Foolish thing for Kil'jaeden to leave them in the hands of a mortal." Sargeras looked triumphant as he gloated in front of the Nathrezim King, sitting upon the Flaming Throne in the Halls of Command within Dairwan, capitol city of the Burning Legion. "I wonder what atrocities I could have wrought had I wielded the blade. What did you call it again?"
Moordrinar knew Sargeras was toying with him. As if someone as powerful as the Dark Titan could forget something like that. "Frostmourne, my lord."
"That's right. Frostmourne. Such a powerful weapon only to be torn asunder by the 'Light.'"
The dreadlord turned on his hooves and walked out of the room and onto a balcony that oversaw the entirety of Mal'dridar, home world of the Burning Legion. There was a vast darkness that stretched out for what seemed an eternity until it finally gave way to the smoldering planets that had been pulled to the darkness. Moordrinar liked to gaze upon his work, even if Sargeras felt all the credit belonged to him and his two cronies, Kil'jaeden and Archimonde.
The Nathrezim King clenched his claws. Archimonde, now dead, deserved everything the mortals did to him and more. Kil'jaeden had yet to meet his end, but he was as good as dead as far as Moordrinar thought. What a foolish imbecile to take artifacts as powerful as Frostmourne, the Helm of Domination and the Plate of the Damned and bind them to a lowly orc's soul.
"Come now. I haven't hurt your feelings, have I," Sargeras paused for Moordrinar to say something snide, "Here, if it makes you feel any better, the dreadlords have been irreplaceable within my ranks."
Moordrinar did not respond.
"Bah! It matters not, they couldn't have been that powerful if they were destroyed."
"Wasn't Gorshalach torn asunder, my lord?"
There was a great thunder from the skies and the entire planet of Mal'dridar shook. Sargeras's grip on his throne tightened and a hairline fracture snaked its way down to the base. "Gorshalach, was torn asunder by me. It could not handle my fury once I ascended to my true power. No weapon made by even a Titan could." The Dark Lord of the Burning Legion tried to sound collected.
"My apologies-"
"No weapon," Sargeras interrupted, "could handle me now. Toil away on your anvil, Moroz'gorevat, and see!"
"Frostmourne gave your titanic armies a run for their money."
Sargeras stood tall above the dreadlord. Moordrinar was powerful, yes, but in a fight Sargeras could dispatch the Nathrezim King with one hand tied behind his back. Thinking better of trying Sargeras's hand, Moordrinar went down on one knee. "That's what I thought," Sargeras purred. "Be gone from my sight." And at that, Moordrinar stretched his wings, returned to the balcony, and departed.
Moordrinar knew exactly where to fly, the Gantra, where he could discuss matters further with his brother, Magdridon. Sargeras was increasingly becoming harder and harder to deal with in person, but to say their plans weren't coming to fruition would be an understatement. The hotheaded orc, Garrosh, who stepped through the portal to the second Draenor, had bought enough time for the Burning Legion to amass their assault on the planet. Troops were aligned, demons were trained, their fel blades were sharpened and fel magicks honed in.
It would not be long now before the second Gul'dan opened a portal for the Burning Legion to step through. Of course the second Gul'dan gravitated to the Tomb of Sargeras on the original Azeroth. History was, after all, a flat circle. That bronze dragon who opened the time portal was the frontrunner for biggest moron in the universe. Moordrinar could not fathom a worse idea. Surely, if Kairoz had half a brain he would have connected the portal to the second Azeroth where they wouldn't have been met with allies and not enemies.
"You're doting upon the bronze dragon again. Kairozdormu."
"How did you know," Moordrinar asked as he landed deep within a crevice of the Gantra.
"Because you always have that look on your face. Like you're annoyed by how stupid something could be."
"Let's just be glad we met with our second selves and agreed to stay out of it. Can you imagine an army of Sargerases? They'd never get anything done, just constantly arguing and vying for supremacy. Luckily the only portal the second Archimonde could throw Gul'dan through led to our Azeroth. This has been a most interesting development, to say the least. Unfortunately Bolvar won't be at a fraction of the power I need to do anything other than maybe...maybe...put a dent in the Burning Legion."
"Then what is your plan?" Magdridon already knew his nathrezim brother had one.
"The plan, dear brother, is to retrieve the shards of Frostmourne and the rest of my armor and decimate this Burning Legion, and with the power sealed away within the runeblade to awaken the Dark Father, Chu-Jeshw'nax."
"You don't plan on fighting S-"
"No," Moordrinar said quickly. "No, I cannot defeat the Dark Titan alone. But without his army he, as a single entity, would fall before the Dark Father and the entirety of existence would be ours."
"Ripe with death." Magdridon smiled.
Sargeras was none the wiser to these ploys hatched by what he assumed were servants of his. Maybe not loyal, but servants nonetheless. Who would cross him? These feeble demons were pawns beneath him. The Nathrezim King? The Annihilan Lord? Bah! Who were they to stand in his way? Sargeras gripped his throne tightly once more and peered out of the open frame in the Chamber of Command.
As his madness gripped him, he began to drift back many years. Daydreaming was not something the fallen titan tended to do often, but it had been years since he indulged himself. And what better a thing to dote upon than the importance of Azeroth.
Many years ago, on the planet Nor...
"He's just a boy, Sargeras." Aggramar eyed Tiris as the young titan lay on the ground, panting.
"A boy," Sargeras roared, "You would not be saying that if you had seen the things of the Twisting Nether I had!"
"Perhaps Sargeras is right. If the nathrezim are as terrible as you suggest then maybe he should be tough on Tiris," Golganneth chimed in from the other side of the stone coliseum.
"They are...wicked." If Aggramar hadn't known better he would have guessed the twinkle in Sargeras's eye was out of admiration.
Tiris, youngest of the titans, stood on his feet and again took his fighting stance. "I am no boy," he finally muttered, "and one day, Sargeras, I will best you in combat."
Eonar cheered and watched as Aggramar smirked. There was nothing the Pantheon enjoyed more than Sargeras having his ego knocked down a peg.
"I could destroy you with just a finger, young one," Sargeras spat.
"He is only young to us, to the mortal races he is ancient." Eonar was ever one to build up the courage of her brethren, even if they were only infantile in her eyes.
Tiris, however, took the comments personally. He knew he carried many expectations on his shoulders, for no reason other than his birth had been an anomaly. It had been centuries since the minerals on Nor birthed life when Tiris finally took shape. The final titan had been born from the mineral platinum, same only to Aman'thul the Highfather.
It was for this reason Sargeras, not-so-secretly, harbored a great jealously for the young titan. The rest of the Pantheon took it as a great sign of things to come for Tiris. Perhaps one day he would command a battlefield with the same tenacity as Sargeras. But Sargeras would not give up his title lightly and took to putting down Tiris every moment available. Even at the cost of his personal image.
"Stay down, boy," Sargeras jested as he knocked the young titan to the stone floor again. "You may be able to contend with the likes of Aggramar, but not I, Sargeras!"
Tiris looked to Aggramar. Anything would have helped, but the bronze titan only returned an impassive gaze. If ever there was someone to help Tiris it was Aggramar. Sargeras's lieutenant had taken the young titan under his wing. Often times the two would travel the cosmos discussing the mortal races and their plights. Aggramar, although cold, was quick to impart with Tiris the great wisdom he had not only learned from the Highfather, but also from what he had learned from the mortals: Pain and suffering.
At times, Aggramar felt, it was these two traits that so well defined the mortals. As far as the titans were concerned they were immortal with the power to create life. Only once had Aman'thul spoke of a power even higher than themselves, but only once. And he didn't say much. After that talk, Aggramar gathered it was from this mysterious power's leadership that the titan's derived their own. Create life, then leave it be. No meddling in the affairs of mortals.
"Again." Tiris choked the words out over his short breath.
"Well at least you have fight in you." Sargeras's words were directed to Tiris but his gaze never left Aggramar.
For the third time the two titans locked themselves in combat. Their sparring could have torn a lesser world apart. They threw punches that could cause hurricanes, sweeping kicks that could create tsunamis, merely blocking an attack from Tiris could have caused a volcano to erupt ten times over.
Yet it was Sargeras's mocking face that drew the most fearsome blow. With one great gesture, Tiris threw a punch that connected with the great titan's jaw and sent him tumbling to the ground. A great gasp echoed from the Pantheon within the coliseum. Finally it was Tiris's turn to stand triumphant over Sargeras's fallen body.
A fallen body that did not stay fallen long. Sargeras, overcome with rage, hurled himself from the ground and pummeled Tiris in a mad fury of fists. One after the other, they reined down upon the poor young titan's body. Again and again Sargeras let his wrath pour from his body, his bronze skin turning red with rage.
"That is enough, Sargeras!" A great voice boomed from on high.
With one last punch for good measure, Sargeras stood from his defeated brethren and faced the leader of the Pantheon, Aman'thul.
"Highfather, I did not expect you home so soon," Sargeras growled.
"I wonder if that would have changed this 'lesson', if one could call it that."
"The boy needs to know how to fight. Not only are those beasts out there, but so too are the demons now."
"How goes the fight against the demons," asked the Highfather.
Sargeras winced. "I slay them around every turn. I-"
"Have you tracked them down to their place of origin?"
"No." Sargeras hung his head.
"Then perhaps you should be focusing all of this energy on that." Aman'thul's deep voice sounded unusually uneasy. "All of you, we will reconvene momentarily. I have discovered a great disturbance in the ley lines, it appears the Great Beast of the Twisting Nether has returned."
"Impossible," Khaz'goroth blurted out.
Aman'thul held up a hand. "We will discuss this when we reconvene. For now, Aggramar, take Tiris to be patched up. All of you meet me here after."
"One day I'll defeat him." Tiris couldn't take his gaze from the floor as Aggramar tended to his wounds.
"Sargeras may be hard to deal with, but he is powerful. The most powerful of us all."
"Even more than-"
"No one is more powerful than the Highfather. But be glad Sargeras is on our side, eh?"
"I suppose." Tiris was still too embarrassed to look Aggramar in the eyes. Not that it would have mattered, the titan only bore one look at all times. Never shocked, never happy, only ever impassive. However, for Tiris, Aggramar could afford a smile from time to time.
"I-I want to show you something."
"Oh?" Aggramar sounded surprised.
"Yes. I've made my own watcher. I don't agree that we should leave these mortals to their own devices. I have witnessed the same suffering you have and I cannot allow it to continue unhindered when we could easily snuff it out."
"You know we don't put our noses where they don't belong, Tiris."
"Well then I will be different. If we have the ability to help them, why not?"
"Because what would be the point of life if we interfered?" This had been the mantra of the Pantheon since its birth.
"Suffering does not have to be part of life." Tiris frowned.
"Oh young Tiris, suffering is a mortal's life. Think about how different Sargeras would be if he had to suffer for something."
Tiris laughed then quickly sobered up. "I suffer for something. I suffer for greatness."
"And one day you shall achieve it." Aggramar lifted Tiris's head so the two could lock eyes. "Do you hear me? One day you shall achieve greatness. Now, what name will you give your watcher?"
"Tyr. He will be named after his father. He will come to my favorite planet and find greatness within the mortals."
"Well let us hope he has a mean right hook, as his father does."
Aman'thul did not wait for the Pantheon to be settled as he normally did before the troop left to shape worlds and create great artifacts. He stood, impatiently, as they all took their normals seats within the great chamber of the Pantheon construct, a monument so glorious the mortals of any planet would weep at its mere sight. It shone brightly with minerals and ores and reached high, high into the skies of Nor.
"The Great Beast of the Twisting Nether has returned," he finally spoke.
"Highfather, you say it to be true but I just cannot believe it," Khaz'goroth defended his work in sealing the ley lines that connected the Twisting Nether and the Great Beyond.
"This is no slight to you. This monster has untethered power. It represents the very antithesis of our work, devouring every planet it can, consuming life to sustain its unnatural existence."
"Then let me dispatch of this foe!" Sargeras stood from his seat and beat his chest. "With Gorshalach no foe can stand before me!"
"I fear this monster is greater than any one of us. But combined our might can conquer all within the realm of possibility."
"Greater than any one of us?" Eonar sounded worried. And rightfully so. Their first meeting with the beast had required only moderate exertion between the Pantheon, but now Aman'thul was speaking of a tightly coordinated event to bring it down.
"Yes, dear Eonar. This beast has grown strong in our absence."
Tiris took no time to nudge Aggramar and whisper, "See, this is what happens when the Pantheon sits idly by. Evil is allowed to strengthen."
"Hush," Aggramar hissed.
"Perhaps the young one is right." Aman'thul turned his back to the Pantheon to consider this truth. Surely something had to be done or all of their work would be for nothing. Tiris, on the other hand, saw this only as the titans' vanity. Of course they would only interfere if it was their work on the line. Mortals be damned.
"Then let us fight!" Sargeras held Gorshalach high in the air, and to his surprise the only other titan that stood and cheered was Tiris. Sargeras quickly turned to face the only other platinum body in the room. "He may be young, but he's the only one with some fight in him," Sargeras smiled.
Tiris nodded in return. "Where does it feast next?"
"Why, our old battleground of course," Aman'thul said calmly.
"Then together we meet him in battle." Norgannon walked to the center of the room and prepared his teleportation spell.
Within seconds the Pantheon was back on the planet that would later be known as Azeroth. Had they not arrived as soon as they had, there would not have been a planet for the mortals to call anything. The entire atmosphere was complete chaos. The very sunlight the plants required for nutrients was blocked by the destruction of the Great Beast of the Twisting Nether, Chu-Jeshwa'nax.
Green and twisting, the ley lines were everywhere corrupting the very fabric of the Great Beyond. The planet's tectonic plates were in complete upheaval causing earthquakes and great fissures in the land. Volcanoes were erupting and the earth was covered in carcasses of what had once been life. The Pantheon observed their efforts being mindlessly dissolved before their very eyes and despaired. How powerful was this beast now?
Not one beast, but five. During their leave it had multiplied into these five more horrors. Each one nastier than the next. It wouldn't take long for these five beasts to devour the Great Beyond and leave existence black for all eternity.
"Don't just stand there! Kill something," Sargeras barked. Quick tempered and overconfident, the champion of the Pantheon charged into battle, Gorshalach held high.
Immediately Sargeras met blows with a beast, later to be called N'Zoth. Its maniacal tentacles, quick and strong, snaked their way around the bronze titan and constricted. "Unhand me, fiend!" Sargeras hacked away but more tentacles came. A seemingly endless supply met Gorshalach. Each one that fell seemed to spawn ten more.
Tiris, eager to prove himself in the eyes of the Pantheon champion, rushed in to Sargeras's aid. With his now famous right hook, the young titan crushed the beast deep below the earth's crust and freed Sargeras from its grip. Again, Sargeras returned with a nod that filled Tiris with great pride. "Help the others, they need your strength."
Now Tiris felt invincible. Sargeras would have only paid another titan a compliment if it meant his bronze butt in the Highfather's chair. He turned to see Aggramar locked in combat with the beast later to be called C'Thun. It bore one great eye upon its head, a head that was a great mouth covered in teeth. But this was no ordinary eye. It bore deep within Aggramar and Tiris's mind with crippling pain.
"We fight magic with magic," Norgannon bellowed. The magickly heightened titan cast a spell to negate the atrocities of C'Thun. The two duked it out with arcane blows, each vying for supremacy with the ley lines until C'Thun developed the upper hand. "We now know your work better than you do, Norgannon." C'Thun spoke directly into the titan's mind.
The battle waged for hours. Soon Sargeras and Tiris found themselves back-to-back, each one battling another beast. "The sword! Hand me the sword," Tiris bellowed, his one free hand motioning to Sargeras for Gorshalach. Never, Sargeras thought to himself, This boy must be mad if he thinks I'm going to hand him Gorshalach. "Sargeras!" Tiris called out again. Finally the Pantheon champion tossed his beloved blade to the younger titan and with a mighty cleave, he laid a crushing blow to the beast later to be called Y'Shaarj.
Immediately Tiris thrust the blade back within Sargeras's grip. The titan was relived to feel his blade within his own gargantuan fingers again. He then grabbed Yogg-Saron by his tentacular frame, hoist it from the ground and hacked away. Y'Shaarj, too wounded to help, fled. "They do not help their own," Sargeras grit from behind his perfect teeth. "They do not help their own!" Without hesitation he wheeled around came to lay the final blow to Y'Shaarj.
The beast sloshed and oozed on the ground as a feeble puddle of flesh. "United, these beasts are vanquished," Sargeras announced to his comrades.
"Head his words!" Aman'thul almost sounded overjoyed as he yelled the words that echoed throughout the planet.
Soon all of the titans were pairing up to fight these mighty foes. True to Sargeras's discovery, the beasts did not come to each others aid. They were powerful and chaotic, but they were not a team as the Pantheon was. The tide of battle soon changed. The Pantheon struck so many costly blows so quickly the beasts were forced into hiding. For hours the Pantheon searched them out from each and every crevice of Azeroth until soon they were all rounded up.
"This is it, brothers and sister!" Sargeras stepped forward, Gorshalach pointed at the pentagram of beasts. "Life itself, has come to claim you!"
"Xxyxxz zzyy vxyx yutxxxx!" The words were hideous, unintelligible, and worst of all, painful to the Pantheon's ears. Even the five beasts quaked. The green ley lines of the Twisting Nether screeched and bent inward as they strained under the weight of the Great Beast of the Twisting Nether. The Dark Father had emerged.
With great upheaval, Chu-Jeshwa'nax pulled himself through the blighted portal. The behemoth beast oozed through, his many tentacles the size of one titan's torso, his maws as wide as the mouth of the sea, and his eyes ever watchful of all things transpiring. This foe had come to claim them all.
"Together, Sargeras," Tiris nodded at his master.
"Together, young Tiris," Sargeras grinned. "Together, Pantheon!"
With all their might combined they could have slew the five beasts, but the Dark Father was itself an entity unlike no other begotten in this life. It cast Aman'thul aside, met blows with Gorshalach, and devoured the spells of Norgannon.
"Sargeras...Sargeras get up!" Tiris lifted his commander from the ground after sustaining a debilitating blow from Chu-Jeshwa'nax.
"Tiris, it is strong, this one."
"You told me none could contend with the likes of you! If you cannot do this task, then lay Gorshalach at my feet and I will show you one who can!"
Sargeras looked up at Tiris, the fear in his eyes turning to a wild rage. "Gorshalach is mine to wield!"
"Then wield it!"
Crazed, Sargeras charged into battle. His strength and fury renewed, his magic regenerated. Great and tremendous blows the Pantheon champion laid upon the Dark Father. Each one sundering not only the beast but the earth around it. Chu-Jeshwa'nax would not take the humiliation a moment longer. It raised its tentacles to meet Gorshalach mid blow, and there, upon cold north, Sargeras and Chu-Jeshwa'nax struggled.
"I am power. I am fear. I am chaos eternal." For creatures of such unnerving appearance, they all had such soothing voices when they chose to speak as such.
"I am death," spoke Sargeras as he tried to overpower the beast. It was then Tiris noticed something peculiar. Gorshalach cried out beneath Sargeras's grasp. Rushing to his aid, Tiris too held the hilt of the blade and with the young titans altruistic grip, the blade maintained its shape and came crushing down upon Chu-Jeshwa'nax.
The Great Beast of the Twisting Nether screamed in agony. A pain the was only matched by Sargeras's as he saw aid him in wielding Gorshalach. The great beast took no time to slither off to his portal. Yet this time the portal suffered greatly under his power. Azeroth bent under the weight of such a powerful happening.
"She cannot handle such an event," Aman'thul cried out. Quickly Norgannon stepped forth to lend Azeroth his magic to help her stay alive. The remaining titans followed suit, all but Sargeras and Tiris.
"Sargeras!" Eonar screamed his name for help. The magnanimous force, all caving in at once, was becoming too much for the titans.
"You want the blade for yourself, don't you?" The craze had yet to leave Sargeras's eyes as he seethed at Tiris.
"I want to rid this world of evil," the young titan barked back.
"You will never have a blade as mine," Sargeras growled at his platinum brethren. Then the bronze guardian turned to help hold the planet from utter annihilation.
"Xyxxz zyz!" Chu-Jeshwa'nax wrapped every appendage it had around Tiris, who was staring woefully at his idol.
"Sar-," was all Tiris could get out before he was completely covered. Every physical inch of his body was being crushed, but his platinum heart is what hurt the most as he watched Sargeras purposefully turn a deaf ear. What life remained within Tiris was then snuffed out. For the first time in existence a titan had fallen.
The Pantheon rushed to his aid, but Chu-Jeshwa'nax would not let this prize go lightly as he continued his way through the portal. There was a loud and powerful crunch as Tiris's lifeless arm snapped from his beautiful, gleaming, platinum body. So powerful was the force, the planets around Azeroth were cast back many miles.
"My prize..." The Dark Father elated as he began to fade from this plane.
Sargeras looked on at the dismayed faces of the Pantheon, "There is no time, we will never have another opportunity to slay these beasts. We grieve later."
"He's right." Aman'thul already had crystalline tears in his eyes. "Find the beasts and kill them."
"My lord, they're everywhere." Eonar was right. In just a short amount of time Yogg-Saron had fled to the north, C'Thun and Y'Shaarj to the south, N'Zoth to the west, and Ryun'eh to the east.
"Find them," the Highfather barked.
"I will track Y'Shaarj to the south." Sargeras left before anyone could respond. Soon after, the bronze titan found himself face-to-face with the greatly wounded beast. "I will delight in your demise."
"And the Dark Father will delight in yours."
Sargeras was too overcome with victory to pay any mind to the beast's words. Gorshalach was hungry for more. The titan blade came down heavy and hard upon the seven headed beast. Everywhere on Azeroth felt the blow. Again the planet cried out in pain. No more could she take. Another great blow to her and the planet would fall apart. But Sargeras did not care. Madness was setting in.
"Stop!" Sargeras had not seen Aman'thul materialize behind him.
"They must pay as we have, Highfather," said Sargeras, his eyes never wavering from the beast.
"The cost is too much, Sargeras. We will chain these beasts beneath earth, never to return."
"That is a...MISTAKE!" Harnessing the anger in his words, Sargeras laid a final blow upon Y'Shaarj. The beast oozed black blood and crumpled to a shapeless flesh, and with its final breath, breathed into the southern lands seven great darknesses.
"Look at what you have done! It will take eons to repair this damage, fool! The planet will-"
THUMP. THUMP. To Aman'thul and Sargeras's surprise, this grand blow had yet to completely destroy its foe. There, in a sickly purple lump, lay the last organ of Y'Shaarj. A still beating heart.
"Your pigheadedness has ruined us yet, Sargeras. You will have much to answer for once we return to Nor."
The titans spent the next years creating prisons for the Heart of Y'Shaarj and the four remaining beasts. Each one crafted specifically for the Old God within. They were, all of them, hidden deep beneath the earth to spare the mortals of this world the sake of their corruption. Never again would these beasts escape and wreak havoc upon poor Azeroth, whose wounds were too many.
"What do the titans do with their dead," Golganneth asked once their prisons were complete. There was a great silence as the Pantheon stood at the center of Azeroth, Tiris's one-armed corpse at their feet.
"We bury them." Sargeras was quick to answer.
"On Nor," Khaz'goroth suggested.
"No. He is corrupted with death. Nor will not bear this sickness. We will bury him here."
"What? And let the mortals of this planet suffer his blight?"
"Better here than Nor. We will build a tomb for him deep beneath the ground. Give him a proper warrior's chamber," suggested Sargeras.
"Then let it be so," Aman'thul spoke, "but first, let this planet know of the precious blood that was shed so that she may live."
Before they laid Tiris's body to its final rest, the Pantheon held a ceremony where they let his blood create for itself a great lake. A lake which festered and thrived for many millenia until it finally birthed the necessary magicks of life.
Once the titans returned to Nor, Sargeras took it upon himself to tell Tiris's creation, Tyr, his of creator's death. It was then Tyr knew he had to continue his creator's work. Never, would Tyr let the world of Azeroth be left to her own demise. He would fight and aid her inhabitants with every power he had. And so he did, until he too found death. In the cold north, battling Galakrond with the Five Aspects.
The mortals came to name Tirisfal after the great warrior that had fallen to ensure the survival of their home world. Only, it was lost on them what lay, even deeper, beneath the glade. That which had driven the high elves mad, that which had the power and tenacity to lay deadly blows upon an Old God, that which made Azeroth so special to Sargeras.
The dark titan was so madly hellbent on returning to the planet to uproot his fallen brother and reshaping his flesh into a twisted and corrupted weapon for the Legion. A weapon to end all weapons. Little did the mad titan know, the offspring of the Great Beast of the Twisting Nether had already managed this feat. Frostmourne, a runeblade that grew in strength from death, could not have been a more perfect weapon for Sargeras. For the Lich King.
Violently, Sargeras's head jolted upright, awaking from his daydreaming.
"My lord," Kil'jaeden was standing quietly in the arching doorway, "An orc from Azeroth has reached out to us. He claims to be Gul'dan."
Sargeras quickly stood from his throne and turned to face Kil'jaeden. "Go on."
"He claims to have reached the Broken Isles, that he can open a portal to Azeroth."
"Bah! Just another warlock wishing to fall into my ranks. Have him corrupt a forest or something, I don't care."
"My lord, he has already begun the summoning."
"...prepare the Legion."