Eternal Requiem
Chapter 5: Wrath of the False God
Within days notice word of the plan for Grom'gol's demise reached to Arbiter Lithius and his legion in Stranglethorn Vale. Several days after the execution of Tuvyn, Snivley traveled back to his home in Booty Bay and informed the master hunter of the Emperor's plans. Grom'gol was to fall within three days, and Lithius would not be alone. Along with Snivley came Towns and his legion of rogues, fully rested after the conquer of Stonard. And because he made sure all orc runners were slain, the Horde had no idea what became of their now felled outpost in the Swamp of Sorrows. But although they were unaware of the danger of Darithal and his Empire, there were others who took notice. The zealous Twilight Hammer and Blackrock Orcs happened to have agents within Stonard's walls during the attack, so their absence brought about suspicion. After years of hiding the Grand Requiem Empire from the world, Darithal slipped.
"Word of Stonard's destruction has reached the ears of some of our greatest foes." panicked Highlord Bolvar. "They will more than likely plan an assault on us!"
"Indeed." spoke out Arch Druid Fandral Staghelm. "The cult of the Twilight Hammer and the legion of the Blackrock Orcs have been a great thorn in our side since before the Empire was built. If it were just the Blackrock Orcs, than maybe we could defend ourselves. But the Twilight Hammer is everywhere! To subdue them until the Horde are no more would be suicide, even for you, my emperor. What shall we do?"
The council turned to Darithal, hoping that he may have the answer. The Emperor's blind eyes gazed forward, like they always did. For moments he did not say a word. The council questioned whether he even heard the question. So Magni Bronzebeard spoke up.
"Um... my emperor." began Mangi. "What shall we-"
Magni was cut off with Darithal staring straight in his direction.
"I heard the question!" barked Darithal.
"Something troubles you, Emperor Darithal?" asked the High Tinker Mekkatorque.
"The situation is troublesome." answered Darithal, recollecting his thoughts. "It was hard enough that the rebellion was against us, but now we have a second and third threat to deal with."
"If only there was some way to make one of them withdraw from us..." muttered Fandral.
Then Darithal was lit with inspiration.
"Of coarse!" exclaimed Darithal. "We shall make them fear us through example!"
All of the council was filled with confusion. What could Darithal mean? What scheme hatched within the unexplored mind of the Emperor?
"Bolvar." spoke Darithal to the Highlord. "Ready my prized dragon, Stormreaver, for flight. As for the rest of you, I want you to lead your legions to the foot of Blackrock Mountain, deep in the Burning Steppes. You will arrive before the dawn comes."
"But all of our weapon supplies have been shipped to the front lines!" exclaimed Magni. "What will we fight with?"
"Nothing." responded Darithal. "You will need no weapons. In fact, bring along miners. I have a feeling we will need them."
Though even more confused than before, the council obeyed Emperor Darithal's orders. By noon time that day Darithal took flight with his prized white dragon, Stormreaver. Immediately the council brought together as many miners and soldiers from their legions as they could. They traveled lightly, so when night fell, they had entered the red-hot lands of the Burning Steppes. Before them lay the fiery Blackrock Mountain, home to many evils and beings beyond any mortal's dreams. Dawn did indeed come, but there was no sign of Darithal. There seemed to be no activity around Blackrock Mountain, so the council led their men forward, into the mountain.
One could only imagine the horror they saw within those halls. There was not a living orc around. There were indeed orcs, but not ones among the living. Countless bodies of what could be scarcely classified as Blackrock orcs littered the floor like a plague. Fear and terror was painted upon the face of each disfigured and mangled carcase. It was nearly impossible to weave through the bodies, so the legions had to walk through it. But soon new bodies became clear, though they were not orcs.
Soon, as they came deeper and deeper into the mountain, dwarven carrion could be seen just as often as the orcs. Afterwards there seemed to be only dwarven corpses. To be more precise, these dwarves were black in complexion; the Dark Iron dwarves of Thaurissan. Now they had entered the Blackrock Depths, home to the Dark Iron dwarves. After passing what seemed to be hours of halls and vast corridors within that cursed and barren mountain, they finally came to a vast room. This room was filled with pillars lined perfectly in rows and columns. This was Lycrean, the halls of the Dark Iron. And here was even more dwarf bodies. But the further they traveled through Lycrean,
the fewer the bodies seemed to be. When they reached the doors that lead into the cast throne room, the door was already crushed to rubble.
Along the walls were statues, beautifully crafted from onyx stone. Soon the hallway ended, and again another set of destroyed doors were seen. This time the next room ended. To the side were many corpses, some of Dark Iron, some of the Twilight Hammer, though they could only be seen as so by the way the dressed and by the fact that not all of them were dwarves. At the end of the room was two sets of stairs, each leading to one massive and amazingly crafted throne. But someone sat on that throne, the throne once sat upon by King Thaurissan. Actually, King Thaurissan sat in another place. His body could be seen at the bottom of the staircase, laying flat on his face. He too was dead.
To this mysterious character's side was a dragon, of which could be seen as white as pearls. He petted the dragon, it purring as a dragon would. The man also wore pearly-white armor. Only one person could be sitting upon that throne. Only one person could have done such a thing to countless scores of orcs and dwarves. Sitting upon that throne was the one, the only, Emperor Darithal of the Grand Requiem Empire...
"Get your miners working." spoke Darithal, his armor and tabard soaked in blood. "I want a tunnel between here and Ironforge created no less than a week."
And so did the construction of the tunnels begin. From Lycrean the tunnels were built just as wide and made exactly as Lycrean was. In other words, this new tunnel connecting Ironforge to the Blackrock Depths was a continuation of Lycrean northward, in the direction of the dwarves' snowy homeland of Dun Morough. After exactly a week of building, the tunnel was complete, and Lycrean had become the Requiem Halls, named after the empire that constructed it. Darithal was pleased, but it seemed as though we was waiting for something. Something big was going to happen, something that would change everything. Everyone in the newly inhabited mountain could feel it. And that something happened the very morning the Requiem Halls were finished.
A young gnomish scout came scurrying through the Requiem Halls, panting and wheezing from much exhaustion. Not minding any of the guard's warnings to stop and make sure his business was urgent enough, the gnome ran all the way into Emperor Darithal's new throne room, once the Thaurissan Throne, but now called the Black and White Hall, for everything in it was either black or white.
"My emperor!" he exclaimed, huffing and puffing with great difficulty. "Grave news from the foot of the mountain!"
"What is it, young one?" asked Darithal, of whom was sitting upon his throne with Stormreaver nested at his side. "What news do you bear?"
Darithal seemed a little too eager to hear, but the gnome spoke anyway.
"Vast scores of soldiers have emerged from what remains of the Blackrock strongholds and caves"
announced the gnome scout. "They are of many different races and march in the name of the Twilight Hammer!"
Darithal immediately jumped to his feet and made his way through the mountain. By the time he had reached the entrance to Blackrock Mountain, the enormous legion of the Twilight Hammer the scout spoke of were waiting at his doorstep. They were all of different races and wore black and red in respect to the dark lord they worshiped.
"To whom would I owe this visit?" asked Darithal, acting as though they were few in number. "Who leads this army of the Twilight Hammer? Who is the one they call General Azadifury?"
"I am." spoke out an undead in the front row.
This undead, obviously of individual mind, stepped forward and before Darithal. Many imperial men were waiting at the doors of Blackrock, ready to strike should they attempt to harm the Emperor. Darithal and the undead stared at each other (though Darithal really had nothing to stare at because of his blind eyes) until the undead spoke again.
"I am the one they call General Azadifury." he said. "I and my legion come on behalf of the Twilight Hammer as a whole. Word of your power and victory over Blackrock Mountain has spread across the land and has reached my ears."
"And what be your business at my humble abode?" asked Darithal.
Azadifury then drew out his sword. The imperial guards were ready, but Darithal waved them to halt all advances. Tension grew in the minds of the spectators of Blackrock.
He raised his sword on high above his head. Snipers behind the Blackrock Mountain doors aimed their bows, ready to fire if he were to strike Darithal down where he stood. It seemed as though Azadifury was about to cut open Darithal's head, swinging it vertically down. But it did not hit Darithal. Instead, it was jammed into the stony earth beneath him. He then knelt down before Darithal in reverence. And to everyone's surprise, the entire army of the Twilight Hammer knelt as well, all in unison. There was stillness until Azadifury once again spoke, almost choked up by what he was about to say.
"We have... seen power. But none like this. In the name of the Twilight Hammer... I humbly request that we disband and merge to fight alongside you... oh mighty one."
"But what of the one of whom you have called master, the Fire Lord Ragnaros?" questioned Darithal.
"He has seen the weakness of the Dark Iron... and in turn... sees weakness in us." continued Azadifury. "Our lord... our god... has forsaken us. We are nothing without one to call us master. Please... accept us as your own. In respect to your mightiness... we have now discarded all forms of dark magic granted unto us by our previous master... so that we may better serve you and whatever power you hold to yourself."
Azadifury then shouted out, "We are yours to command, oh master!"
"We are yours!" exclaimed the army in unison.
Darithal placed his hands upon Azadifury's shoulders, and in turn spoke to him.
"Have you truly no power of demons among you? Have you completely rid yourself of what was left of your master?"
"That we have..." responded Azadifury.
"Then rise, my servant." said Darithal, beckoning him to stand. "You and your armies rise, for you are now called Arbiter Azadifury, and this your legion.
Darithal spun Azadifury, allowing him to face his legion.
"Bow in reverence!" exclaimed Darithal. "But not only bow before your new Arbiter and Emperor, but to the Grand Requiem Empire and all you have now become; knights of the Grand Requiem Empire!"
All roared and cheered. Their was emotion. Their was joy. Many hugged each other and soon took residence in their new home. Because they had lived among the charred regions of the Searing Gorge and the Burning Steppes, Arbiter Azadifury and his legion were perfect for being the imperial guards of Blackrock Mountain. And for those who wonder what became of the black dragonflight who reside in these regions, their leader, Nefarious, had led them deeper and higher into the mountain, a place known as Blackwing Lair and Blackrock Spire, where they would remain until all was safe for them again. Darithal looked from his seat in the Black and White hall at his newfound fortress.
"I do believe this seat is far too small..." pondered Darithal. "I think that another should sit upon this throne, but not I. I should sit upon the highest throne of the mountain. But first, those dragons will have to go..."
And so the sun set, and the week had ended. Shadow had fallen upon the world, and Grom'gol was in the darkest of it all...