Now, the thing was, even if I was laying low, there actually were a few important targets to go after. Or at the least, to deal with to make sure that I had the time to deal with some of my other targets later on. But would you like to know a funny thing about the dragon aspects? All of them, aside from Deathwing, where tier eight. He was tier nine. All of them were silver stars, and so needed just seven points of arcane resonance to effect with the arts.

One for my own tier, one for a pair of assistants, two for a ritual building specifically designed to cast the ritual of enslavement on that specific dragon aspect, a twelve hour ritual for two, with the final resonance being provided by a scale from each of them. Yes, I would be casting them at a range and from inside a specially prepared bunker meant to ward against the worst of the things that could yet come. It was after all, warded to lock down against any form of time magic or scrying.

But my acolytes knew precious little of the plans here. Only their own parts in their deals. Because as it turned out, being able to sell powers to the various troll city states in return for resources and favors was a decent move... in no small part earning me a sort of position as a loa. Because I could make deals. I could grant power. I could collect from those that made offerings to me and listen into the prayers near the shrines they had established to me thanks to the Speak of the Devil, and He Shall Appear perk. The fact that I looked like a night elf with horns and not an animal and my boons were varied?

I was revered as the Loa of Gifts. Which honestly was a good gig. Not quite as good as what was coming, but then... this was going to solve many of my problems. And count as a major payment to my backers, even with the blues more or less prepped to be in my pocket. No, as the clocks tick and the sand itself tocks, moments bleeding into one another back and forth as the rite moves to a crescendo... time fractures, reality glitches for a moment, and then all is normal, as I speak a word, a name. "Nozdormu."

"Interesting." His tone was thoughtful. "I have never encountered you, and yet..." There was consideration in his eyes, looking me over. "You are the source of changes to the timeline."

Thing was, it was less hostile and more musing. "And you are capable of altering the directives implanted into my mantle." You want to know how dangerous a calm and reasonable tone could be? As if he was pondering just crushing me to see if the secrets could be dragged out if my corpse... or given to him, it did not matter which. "Very interesting indeed. Truthfully, I had forgotten what freedom was like. Though, is it, or should I merely consider this a longer leash?"

He was savoring the words, eyes closed as he all but tasted them. "Technically the latter, but truthfully, how far are we from the prime timeline?" Eyes did not narrow, rather calmly weighing me, examining every tiny detail. "I would estimate a good way out, or would it be somewhat more complicated, given that more than one of you can exist in the various timelines?"

Oh, there was more than a little interest in those eyes... and then something clicked and he hummed. "Ah. In one possibility, you mention the infinite nature of the multiverse, and purchase, at my request, something called Grail Knowledge, that gave some context and things for me to ponder." Yeah, I could take a hint, and then there was revelation in his eyes. "Ah. Very interesting indeed. So, the answer is that in many ways the Titans could be considered to be quite similar to the Knights of the Continuum, with my fight as their bound enforcers and correctors of what they deem to be the proper timelines even as they are forced to stay in smaller subsets of infinity until they have the power to destroy their obviously not canon counterparts."

On the one hand, that made a depressing amount of sense and fit with both multiple timelines and the titans being control freaks. Still, it was as close to a answer that was also a 'there is no real prime timeline' without him actually saying the words. I nodded... and gestured to the temple across the plaza, two more assistants getting ready there. "So, ready to free your flight from their role as the enforcers of canon, without falling to infinite corruption?"

The grin was small, but somehow profound.

Alelar Bluebough

He was painting Lelaea Voidwing (a good friend of his, and she was always up for being a nude model when added to a landscape) when the boss appeared. Did not know that the boss had a portal anchor here. Still, not important other than. "Yo boss. You want to be included in the painting, I only paint nudes." So he shrugged, brush in one hand as Lelaea looked over her shoulder, making her look even sexier. "So, either lose the clothes or don't be in the zone please."

On the one hand yes, he was supposed to be respectful to the boss. But said boss never required they be formal... and Lelaea was lounging on a rock with only a pair of wind serpents to tastefully provoke and suggest any who looked at her. A male has to have priorities after all, even as the boss raised an eyebrow and moved. "Though... whats with the kid on your shoulder?"

Mostly, as there was indeed a small figure on the bosses left shoulder, a teasing grin on her face. "Oh, this is Chromie. My new bronze dragon shoulder loli in her visage form. Neither she nor the visage form have technically been born yet."

Now, what was there to say to that but. "Huh, neat." And then he blinked. "Oh! The Pandarians are here for Brewfest along with some trolls. Think there are some mainlanders coming up as well."

Which honestly, if some wanted to come to the eastern shores to get smashed at the monastery? More power to them. The boss merely nodded. "Huh, forgot about that. Thank ye, will have to check it out and see what you came up with this year. Mostly just came to check on our guest really."

Ah, that made sense, even as he did not pay the boss much mind, his focus back on painting, as it should be,

Onxyia

She whimpered in the dark, rocking back and forth on the ledge, her own self bound, unable to move, unable to speak. Unable to hear, smell, touch or taste, there was nothing at all as she hung, suspended in her visage form, coated in a prison that nullified any magical abilities she possessed, even as it sustained her. And then there was blinding light, searing her eyes as a voice like rolling thunder shattered her ears, a touch to burn and freeze on her flesh. "Evening Onyxia. Ready to be a good girl and help bind your father?"