The trio pushed through the doors, into a dimly lit chamber. All around were crumbled pillars, maybe four or five out of twelve holding up the roof. On one side of the room was a throne, raised above everything else. But no one was seated there.
Out towards the balcony, it was still night, but it was only a few minutes before dawn. A dark robed figure stood on it, leaning on the railing. Two large weapons were sheathed in leather across his back, the sheathes decorated with carvings and swathed in a black cloth.
Golion Ragereaver leaned against the stone railing, looking out as the last shreds of the night started to die out in the beginning of day. Vyndakian tightened his grip around the Runeblade, as its carvings flashed ominously. Alk'wan drew his other axe, the two massive weapons sitting heavy in his hands.
"Why fight," spoke Golion, seemingly talking to himself, "When you cannot begin to imagine the depths of my success. Already you think you've come here to kill me, when you've really come here to die."
"Because," retorted the Death Knight, "What you're planning is mass murder." The Lord of Blackrock laughed.
"No," he replied, his voice just above a hiss, "What I'm planning is a new world; one without war, without suffering. Under my reign, Azeroth will be born into a new age."
"Ya be mad," yelled Alk'wan, the warrior tightening his grip on his axes. Golion turned to look at them, and his eyes were not the amber they had been in public. Where his eyes should be, were two deep pits of endless black.
"No," replied the Undead, "I am a revolutionary. With my genius, all war will end. Isn't that what you strive for, Alk'wan, is peace?" The Chieftain seemed to start, caught up by the man's words. Jarn'dor bared his teeth.
"What we strive fo' is peace," shot back the Druid, "Not the destruction you will cause!" Golion cackled, turning back to look over the railing.
"I will upset the Wyrmrest Accord," explained the Lord of Blackrock, "And my children will breed. In time, there will only be the Terrorwing Flight. No more war amongst the Dragons.
"Then, we will dominate the lesser races, kill them if we must, but they will all join my kingdom. And there will be peace… Eternal peace."
"Dat no be peace," roared Jarn'dor, "Dat be domination and destruction of culture!" Vyndakian placed a hand on his friend's chest, preventing him from pouncing on the Lord of Blackrock.
"I brought him back," whispered the Death Knight, "I'll put him back inside that coffin." Two eyes peered out of them from the shadows, an emerald pair, and a shorter, purplish pair.
"Yes you did," mused Golion, "And you used so much power that our destinies are one…" The two beings slinked from the shadows, a Goblin, and an Elf that looked suspiciously like Vyndakian. Around one wrist, were bands signifying them as Bloodraptors, but around the other wrist, were dark tattoos.
"Your children, are my children," hissed the Undead, as Kaoru and Ezza stepped on either side of Golion, hissing at the trio. Jarn'dor looked to Vyndakian, and he could tell that the Death Knight was being devoured by his rage.
"Let them go," he roared, "This battle is between us four!" Golion cackled, and Vyndakian's children hissed, looking far more feral.
"I'm just evening the odds," replied Golion, and all hell broke loose.
Kaoru and Ezza leaped at the trio, as Vyndakian drew his Runeblade, taking off at top speed. He seemed to pass through the two of them, moving fast enough that his body blurred. Kaoru locked blades with Alk'wan, as Ezza leaped onto to Jarn'dor, hissing and tackling the Druid to the ground.
Golion threw aside his cloak, revealing midnight-black armor. He drew two glaives, locking swords with the Death Knight. They bared their teeth at each other, and began a dance of death.
Alk'wan disengaged from Kaoru, as the petite Elf hissed. In her hands were two, wicked swords, the pale torch-light gleaming off of them. She spun, leaving a shallow cut across the chieftain's face.
The Troll pressed his attack as the Elf tried to recover, driving the woman back. She was as experienced as the Warrior, blocking each blow. Her physical strength was waning, however, her small frame shaking with each of Alk'wan's powerful blows.
Jarn'dor ripped Ezza from his face, throwing her to the side. The little Goblin was suddenly enveloped in shadows, throwing bolts of darkness at the Druid. He leapt backwards, firing bolts of Moonfire.
The opposing spells collided, extinguishing each other. The two spellweavers stalked around each other, Jarn'dor examining his foe, while Ezza snarled and bared her little Goblin teeth, the small child looking slightly intimidating.
The two paced for a while, before the Goblin let loose with a mighty blast of shadows, taking the Troll by surprise.
Vyndakian pushed his blade, having grabbed it by the hilt and the blade itself. Golion fought back with equal strength, their weapons locked together. They broke apart, dancing away. The Death Knight seemed to recognize Golion's weapons, but they clashed again, sparks flying off the metal instruments of death.
"You know these weapons," hissed the Undead, "These are the weapons of the Betrayer…I made sure that the Warglaives of Azzinoth wouldn't fall into the wrong hands." Vyndakian locked blades with Golion, entering another power struggle.
If those weapons were the legendary Warglaives, then no one would survive.
Alk'wan grunted, as Kaoru tackled him to the ground, her knees driving into his stomach. She knocked away his axes, wrapping her small hands around the chieftain's throat. She squeezed, choking him slowly.
The Troll began to black out, but he landed a wild punch, knocking the wind off of Kaoru. The Elf tumbled off, and Alk'wan breathed in greedily. He slammed his fists against her temples, knocking out the petite woman.
Jarn'dor flew backwards, smashing through a pillar. Ezza hissed again, drawing a wicked dagger and leaping on top of the Druid. She plunged the knife into his shoulder, ripping a roar from the Troll's throat. He caught her wrists, and began a struggle with her. Whatever Golion had done to her, had made the Goblin child stronger than anything he had ever faced.
Two hands appeared on either side of Ezza's head, and slammed against her temples. The Goblin went limp in Jarn'dor's arms, as Alk'wan picked her up, setting her to the side.
The two Trolls picked up their weapons, and ran to help the Death Knight.
Vyndakian grunted as he managed to push off Golion, Jarn'dor and Alk'wan arriving by his side. He shot a look over his shoulder, and saw the unconscious forms of his daughters. The Elf locked eyes with the Undead, as he cackled.
"I grow tired of these games," hissed Golion, and he slammed both of his weapons against the ground. A shockwave threw the three heroes backwards, hitting the floor hard.
Jarn'dor looked up as the Lord of Blackrock's form began to shimmer and change. His bones blackened, and grew, twisting and tacking shape. His armor vanished, as the Warglaives shone brightly, blinding the trio.
In moments, before them stood a gigantic Magmawyrm, liquid fire burning in his belly and blackened bones rattling. He was encased in golden armor, a black spell book hanging from his chest piece.
"Now," roared the Dragon, "You face Obsidion Terrorwing, Master of Blackrock!" The beast spewed magma, the trio managing to dodge it just in time. Alk'wan and Vyndakian charged forward, trying to land blows on the beast. Their weapons bounced harmlessly off the enchanted armor, the mighty plates constructed from the Warglaives of Azzinoth.
The Druid looked around, as the Dragon swept the two away. He spied a chain sitting in a corner, and got an idea.
"Vyndakian," he yelled over Obsidion's roar, "Alk'wan, keep him occupied!" Jarn'dor raced towards the chain, grabbing it.
"You cannot hide your schemes from me," roared the Undead, flaring his wings. The turbulent wings brought up by them nearly swept the Death Knight off his feet; Alk'wan flew away, his leather armor too light to keep him grounded.
The Druid grabbed the chain, swiping the swords from Kaoru's immobile form. He drove one sword through the first link in the chain, and impaled it to the wall. Jarn'dor leaped up a nearby pillar, and pushed off. He was airborne for no more than a few moments, until he landed square on the center of the Dragon's spine.
Vyndakian let out a mighty shout, as he slammed his sword into Obsidion's ankle, crushing the armor and locking the joint. The Undead roared, and swept the Death Knight aside, the Elf colliding with some fallen rubble.
Jarn'dor leaped from Obsidion's back, using the chain to swing around and under the Dragon's midsection. He leaped up from the beast's locked ankle, pushing off from the twisted metal.
The Druid was unstoppable as he leaped up the monolithic wyrm's neck, jumping through Obsidion's open jaws with the chain. The Troll tumbled and dashed, pulling the chain hard around a pillar. The Dragon was pulled back onto his hind legs, exposing his chest and the dangling book. Jarn'dor drove the other sword through a link in the chain, trapping the beast.
"Vyndakian," he shouted, "Now!" The Death Knight rose up from the rubble, gripping his Runeblade tight. With a shout of his own, Vyndakian threw the weapon, and all watched, as it pierced the black tome.
Jarn'dor was thrown backwards from some sort of explosion, Vyndakian covering his eyes. When the dust settled, Golion limped towards the balcony, holding his wrist. The Death Knight roared, charging at the Undead.
Before the Druid could cry out, the two fell over the balcony's railing, plunging towards the ground below.
Golion wrapped his hands around Vyndakian's throat as the Death Knight punched him, blow after blow connecting with the side of his head. The two grappelled for a time.
"What would have been sweeter," hissed the Undead, "was if I could've taken that bitch of yours with us." At this, something inside of the Death Knight snapped, and he was filled with a fury that would have put Sargeras to shame.
Vyndakian struck out, caving in Golion's skull with his fist. He grabbed the walking corpse, slamming its face against the mountain, grinning darkly as it shredded Golion. With one final heave he threw the Lord of Blackrock earthward, reaching out and grabbing a rocky outcropping.
The Death Knight's arm nearly snapped, his Darksworn strength being all that kept him together. He watched as Golion slammed against the Mountain, plunging into the river of liquid fire.
The last he saw of the Undead, was his hand, clawing for escape from the burning magma.
With a sigh, Vyndakian began to climb back up the Mountain, a heaviness resting in his soul.
Jarn'dor and Alk'wan roused the unconscious women, their tattoos having vanished somehow. Ezza held her head as Kaoru groaned.
"Ohh…. Where are we?" Alk'wan began to fill them in as Jarn'dor looked back at the balcony. Everyone was silent for a long while.
"I can't believe he be gone," whispered the Druid. Ezza balled up into Kaoru, crying. The Elf hung her head, her face in the Goblin's hair. Alk'wan hung his head, as Jarn'dor looked over the edge of the balcony. The group mourned for a long time, before a grunt broke the silence; a gauntleted hand grasping the railing.
"I can't believe you left me to climb up the fucking mountain by myself," growled Vyndakian as he pulled himself over the railing. Ezza and Kaoru looked up, and ran to hug their father. Alk'wan chuckled and clapped him on the back.
"Good ta see ya, Mon," spoke the Chieftain, grinning. Jarn'dor joined the group hug, tousling the Death Knight's hair. Vyndakian swatted away the Druid's hand, chuckling. He kissed the tops of his daughter's heads, as the sun broke over the horizon, bathing the land in a new day.
"Let's go home," said Vyndakian, "The Dead, are going to stay dead this time."
Wiigarg dismissed his scrying eye, the useless tool vanishing. He had received his orders from Lord Ragereaver just before the interlopers had attacked, and it was then that his eye had failed him. He had heard the ensuing fight, and it must have been glamorous.
The eye had reactivated as Golion had taken the Death Knight with him over the edge, to see his Lord fall into the river of lava. No one could have survived that.
Worst of all, every ambassador from their allies had seen it. In his chamber in Utgarde Keep, the Netherwing, Twilight Dragonflight, Vrykul, and their mysterious visitor had watched as Golion had died.
"What now," hissed the Twilight Ambassador, the purple drake digging out gouts in the floor. The Netherwing Ambassador swatted the smaller Dragon with his tail; the Drake hissing at the ethereal Dragon.
"Indeed," added the visitor, his speech coming out in clacks and chirps. The tall figure wore a heavy cloak, its towering form hidden from view. The Vrykul beside it looked uncomfortable in its presence, shying away.
Wiigarg had been given the honour of sitting upon Golion's throne after the Magmawyrm was dead. He had not guessed it would be so soon.
The Orc Warlock stroked his chin in thought. Here, were the leaders of armies still loyal to Ragereaver… With himself as Regent, Wiigarg could use them to further his own needs… his own schemes.
"We will continue where Lord Terrorwing left off," replied the Orc, as everyone in the room flinched at the name of the Dragon's true identity.
Years ago, Obsidion Terrorwing had been the bane of the Eastern Kingdoms, ransacking cities and destroying temples for nearly twenty-eight centuries. But he had been rumoured to have been slain by a Half-Elf; the same Half-Elf that had been his physical guise.
"We shall watch his clutch," continued Wiigarg, "And when they hatch, we shall destroy Azeroth. And all shall tremble in our wake."
Two Dark Iron Dwarves sat outside their mountain home, around a roaring campfire. No one in their kingdom could understand what had happened today. All of Golion's most trusted had perished, and the Lord of Blackrock himself was nowhere to be seen.
The Blackrock Orcs had fallen into disarray, their leadership and purpose lost. Bodies had been discovered everywhere in the mountain; non-Dwarf bodies.
So, a message had been sent to Queen Moira Thaurrissan, and reconstruction had begun. It would be a long while before their kingdom was restored to its rightful glory.
The two Dwarves laughed and fooled around. It had been a long time since any of the Dark Iron could do this, and they relished in every moment of it.
The river of magma began to bubble and hiss, but the dwarves paid it no mind, too caught up in their revelling. Something broke from the lava, and crushed the dwarves.
It was the claw of a Magmawyrm.
Slowly, the Undead Beast pulled itself from the liquid fire, flaring its wings. With a mighty roar that shook the very foundations of the mountain, the Dragon pushed off from Blackrock Mountain, flying north.