Upper Blackrock Spire

6/5 Evening

I assembled my forces in Shadowforge City. Officially we were mercenaries, brought in by Thaurissan to help make the Dark Iron Dwarves into the unquestioned masters of Blackrock Mountain again. The Emperor was a pretty good public speaker, more than capable of getting the population hyped up. The captured agents I had seeded among the crowd helped too, of course.

General Angerforge, the leader of the Dark Iron forces in Shadowforge, had been captured via assassination a few days ago. His troops trusted him, so when he ordered them to cooperate with allied auxiliaries they listened. My demons would be surging to the front once we reached Nefarian’s citadel, but before that we would need to burst through the spire ruled by the Dark Horde.

The plan was to let the Dark Iron military go first. Tony, Sally, and a newly promoted Anduin were standing by to resurrect any dwarves that paid the ultimate sacrifice, but my own troops could still get fatigued. The dwarves could take the first few waves so that my real troops could stay fresh.

The assault force besieging Shadowforge went down first. Angerforge coordinated the tunnel fighting and defense of the city while Moira and Thaurissan led the assault along the great highway. Much more glorious, while also being a bit safer for the king who could stay “safely” defended by his personal bodyguards and raid-boss healer wife even as he led from the front lines. I sent along an unlikely team to assist him: Varimathras, Annetta, Katherine the Pure, and a freshly captured and very thankful Sir Zeliek.

Four rather random individuals, really, until I point something rather important out. They were all hero units with rather powerful auras, particularly in a mass melee battle. Varimathras granted the Vampiric Aura as a Dreadlord, allowing his allies to heal whenever they spilled blood. Annetta, though she was still quite low level as a Keeper of the Grove, could generate the Thorns aura to create a swirling field of flying spikes to tear the flesh of anyone that harmed her companions. Katherine’s devotion aura was as good as outfitting everyone in a layer of solid mithril armor on top of anything else they happened to be wearing. Zeliek, of course, generated an oppressive field of holy power which burnt away anyone who opposed him with constantly escalating intensity. The four of them together would be holding back to provide their potent auras throughout the entire battle unless they were specifically targeted. Of course, of the four only Annetta would be likely to go down against anything short of a raid Boss.

With this level of layered buffs and a powerhouse healer like Moira, Thaurissan’s personal guard was more than sufficient to burst through the outer layers of the their defenses. They weren’t fast, mind you. Much like Varian’s Royal Guard, the dark iron clad warriors won by being nigh invulnerable and grinding their opponents down. I personally got more kills taking pot shots with my bow than any member of the guard, and Annetta’s small bolts of nature energy weren’t far behind me. Zeliek passively killed more people than everyone else in the unit combined.

In our wake a team of worgen magpies scoured the battlefield of basically anything that wasn’t nailed down. Weapons, armor, corpses, furniture; it was all sent to the central depot to be sorted and reallocated appropriately. Of course, almost as important were their orders to destroy anything crystalline, especially if it entranced one of their buddies.

The Spire was an underground tower garrisoned with elite orcish troops, linking the different layers of Shadowforge City. The Dark Horde used it as a convenient choke point to hold off the weaker but more numerous Dark Iron Dwarves. For some reason, they also used it to store the many eggs that Nefarian had. I genuinely can’t tell you if the guy has a dozen offscreen consorts, if he was running a supremely violent day care for other dragons, or what. What I can tell you is that he was pumping the eggs full of magic from an enslaved fire elemental, which Onyxia tells me is an effective way to accelerate incubation but tends to result in mentally underdeveloped whelps. Can you guess where this is going?

We had our first swap out when we arrived at the Rookery, having just abruptly murdered a team of warlocks and a very ungrateful fire elemental. As the tale of Leeroy Jenkins should tell you, the Rookery is not a good place to run in half cocked. I approached with a plan, you see.

As Sylvanas, Natalie, and Vanessa entered the room, the black dragonspawn guarding the eggs charged them. Stitches, now a charger, ran forward to intercept them and took down three alone; that int boost and training with Gina, a slightly more artful dual wielder, was really paying off. A team of night elf huntresses led by Gretchen stood behind a single rank of nathrezim deathguard, pelting the dragonspawn with bouncing moonglaives that ricocheted from enemy to enemy.

Meanwhile, as the eggs reacted to the exciting sounds by hatching, the ghosts and shadow shadow priests started spreading the love. They were physically fully developed, but mentally they hadn’t been given enough time to cook. That wouldn’t be a problem once they were in the retinue, of course, and it worked heavily to my advantage there in the hatchery. In fact, it worked so well that I stayed for a while longer while the Cenarian Circle went ahead to clear out the floor. I had the love confessions of a few hundred baby dragons to accept, and took the opportunity to drink up.

There was a hallway full of orcs next, which the small collection of nature demigods and powerful Druids were more than capable of handling. Asking normal, if elite, orc troops to try to face down a team consisting of the two eldest children of Cenarius, the first and greatest student of Cenarius, and the chosen of Elune was just unfair. Fandral was there too of course, along with about a dozen more archdruids, and that just pushed it into silly territory. They’d run out of mana long before they took any serious injuries, and that would just mean it was time for them to tag out.

Of course, after that was an Arena. A colosseum dedicated to the bloodshed demanded by the dark horde. I’ll admit, the idea of an arena battle excited me, and according to Keryn their Warchief used the colosseum as an impromptu meeting place for his elites, so I went ahead and gave the order for my team to stand down for a moment while I barged in myself. I went with a nice simple Black Dragon/orc hybrid and projected my voice after making sure my soul stone was ready and applied.

The Dark Horde respected strength above everything else, and I thought I might be stronger than Dal’Rend Blackhand at this point. If I angled this correctly, I might be able to set myself up as the new boss; if nothing else, winning in a 1v1 would probably make my Stud Service Lure go into overdrive.

“Rend Blackhand! False Warchief of the Horde! I challenge you to Mok’Gora, for rulership of the Dark Horde!” I was calling him out. “Face the might of a true orc!” Details were unimportant; orc nationalism was so in this season.

••••••••••

Nefarian listened to his scrying orb and sighed. So he was under attack. It was to be expected. The Dark Horde weren’t even doing a particularly good job of holding Netorarian off, it seemed. “Quickly. Anything of value is to be preserved!” He turned and started his servants on the task of stripping his lab and releasing his failed experiments against the enemy. It was time to move; he wasn’t particularly ready to earnestly fight Netorarian yet. Not with his current resources.

He handed Tabetha the Tiara of the Deep, of course. She was trapped in her cage as she had been since this morning, staring at a crystal. After that he left her to M’Kaloc and that dwarven smith; she appeared to be a mage, but that didn’t really matter all that much to Nefarian. She’d served her purpose, she would be brought along like all the other assets, but she wasn't a high priority.

He injected Ebonroc, Flamegor, and Chromaggus with the intention of enhancing them and completing their “capture”. Excellent. Each of the drakes were now as large and strong as possible for a dragon in their age range, female, infatuated with Nefarian, and believed this was always so. All but Chromaggus were still small compared to Nefarian, of course, but they could serve as both enforcers and consorts without any great trouble.

He looked over the company rewards. Still a bit anemic, but if he was going to be leaving Blackrock Mountain he may need to be resourceful and use every tool at his disposal; perhaps his mortal minions could find some use for them. He was firmly the mouse in this game, which was a novel and unwelcome feeling. There was also another regional mission to consider, which he noted and checked in a few fractions of a second.

Dustwallow Marsh: Defeat Jaina ProudmooreReward: Information Defense

Yes. That would do nicely. He cracked his knuckles and prepared to enter the fray. His lesser minions would clear out the lab and bring its contents to his fallback lair in the Highlands to the north. His consorts would destroy Theramore, hopefully “defeating” Proudmoore in the process. Nefarian? Nefarian would be testing the efficacy of his regional upgrade. Let the games begin.