Ulduar was a massive complex, easily the size of a city on the surface and sprawling even more expansively beneath the earth. It could keep an archaeologist busy for multiple lifetimes.
That is, if they had access to all of it, which they didn't. The surface may be eerily silent save for the howling winds, but the insides echoed with the heavy stomps of animated stone and iron, given life by the Forge of Wills and tirelessly patrolling the otherwise empty halls.
With Archaedas willing to talk, they knew where the Forge of Wills could be found and knew that it had to be wrested away from the control of the corrupted Keeper Loken.
That suited Harry just fine, and he was the first to offer to escort Brann Bronzebeard into what the adventurous dwarf identified as the Halls of Stone, where the Forge of Wills was located. Of course, that didn't mean that he was assured a spot in the first foray.
No, that was assured by good old fashioned bribery.
"I heard that you favor the rifle over the hammer, so I brought you something you might appreciate." He said, handing the gift over to the dwarf archaeologist.
"That looks like no rifle I've ever seen, but she's a beauty, no mistake." Brann said, taking the rifle and running an impressed eye over its sleek body.
It had better be a beauty, after the amount of work an experimentation it had taken to get just right. Unlike melee weapons or bows, rifles were a fair bit more complicated and this one had needed to be particularly impressive to get him what he wanted.
"Why is the barrel so small?" The dwarf asked, frowning at it.
"To increase the accuracy and power of the bullet." Harry replied.
"But how do you load it?" Brann continued to question, thankfully for Harry's sanity not being stupid enough to try looking down the barrel.
"I'm glad you asked." He said and produced a boxy item. "This is a magazine. You slot it in down there, then you use the bolt action lever on the side to chamber in the next bullet. Unfortunately it requires specialized ammo instead of just the usual iron shot and it works with runes instead of gunpowder, but I'm sure you'll be able to reverse engineer your own version eventually."
Harry had wanted to avoid spreading around too much technology, but the dwarves were already working on their own versions of flamethrowers and grenade launchers after seeing them used in Ahn'Qiraj, so it was only a matter of time.
Brann gave the rifle a closer inspection, making noises of appreciation the whole time. He fiddled with the magazine, held up the conical bullet to look at the runes engraved on it, worked the bolt action lever and eventually gave it a test shot at a nearby boulder. The conical adamantine bullet bored right into the rock in ways that the spherical iron shot never could.
"A magnificent gift, thank you." The youngest of the three Bronzebeard brothers said and gave him a steady look. "Now tell me what you want."
Harry smiled, amused by the usual dwarven bluntness. "I have things I need to do in Ulduar, and I would prefer to work with you than around you."
"Aye, I think we can work something out."
XXXXX
"Magnificent…" Brann Bronzebeard breathed, his head swiveling around to take in the architecture. "There is a clear link to the works of my people, but Ironforge seems like a pale reflection of this place."
"I've always found it interesting that when it comes to magic, we always seem to be chasing after old glories, whereas science reaches for new heights." Harry replied, finding himself liking the perpetually curious dwarf. He was a kindred spirit of sorts, even if their areas of interest were different.
He could have stayed on permanent detachment in Uldaman and pestered Archaedas for every bit of historical knowledge that he wanted, but the youngest Bronzebeard was too adventurous for that. He wanted to see things first-hand.
"Maybe if it weren't for demons and Void abominations, we could spend more time building ourselves up than fighting for our lives." Brann harrumphed.
"Perhaps." Harry mused. "I've seen peace kill civilizations as thoroughly as war, but the eredar managed to endure and thrive. Perhaps it really is only the short-lived species that become dysfunctional without war."
"You two can have your philosophical debate later." Jessir broke in. "We're coming up on the first patrols."
And so they were. A trio of iron dwarves, their metal bodies engraved with glowing runes, were passing through the massive halls. They were the shape of dwarves, broad and stocky and bearded, but were closer in actual size to orcs. Two of them bore axes of Titan design, if not Titan make, while the third bore a staff. Even at a glance, it was clear that they would be formidable adversaries, far stronger than the rank and file fighters of any other faction's armies.
"Let's wave at them as we pass by." Harry suggested wrily, an idea that Luna was fully behind while the others were merely exasperated.
Just like all of Ulduar, the Halls of Stone were massive, so much so that they had to break out the Nimbus Cloud to speed up travel. What might have only been a slightly long-ish entrance hall for the Keepers, Watchers and perhaps even some shrunken Titans in ancient times was a multi-kilometer stretch of artisanal craftsmanship for regular-sized mortals. Hell, it had to be close to two hundred meters wide, easily wide enough to send a whole army marching through comfortably.
The sheer size of the place also meant that the ceilings were tremendously tall. Tall enough for a group of people flying silently on a mobile cloud to go unnoticed by the patrols below.
Harry could almost feel the vast weight of the place pressing down on him. Ulduar had been much more heavily touched by the Titans than Ahn'Qiraj.
The hallway below them was only sparsely patrolled by iron dwarves, constructs and giants. It would have certainly been possible to ambush and kill them piecemeal even if they were on foot, but it the actual walking would have taken forever. They zoomed ahead until they reached an archway leading to a vast circular room with a pillar-bracketed hole in the middle. Heat and dim orange light emanated from within, clearly indicating that it was a shaft deep into the planet core.
Guided by the map provided by Archaedas, they found the entrance to the Forge of Wills. It was, also as told to them by Archaedas, sealed.
"Time to smack some sense into another big stone lady."
Aside from their deal, Archaedas had been so cooperative on the topic of Ulduar because several of his old comrades might still be salvageable through the power of the Heart of Azeroth, the same as the Maiden of Virtue was able to be reset. In this particular instance, it was the Maiden of Grief that they needed to free from Loken's domination.
The treacherous Keeper had used an override code to compel her obedience, but he didn't have the authorization or skill to overwrite her personality. And the Maiden of Grief had been kept far enough away from Yogg-Saron to have retained her sanity, something which unfortunately didn't hold true for many other Titanic Watchers deeper in Ulduar.
Once again using the Nimbus Cloud to sneak their way past any and all trouble, the party made it to the Hallf of Repose, where the Maiden of Grief waited.
She had bronze 'skin' and wore a white dress, wielding a large hammer in her right hand. The entire room was colored golden, but there was a tangile weight hanging around it.
"She is well named." Colette murmured quietly. "Her misery has brought the Dark to this place."
"We need to help her." Luna said empathetically.
"We will." Harry nodded. Aside from being the nice thing to do, it was also simple good sense. "If we're lucky, we won't even have to fight."
"Stealth, then?" Arko asked. "Because you know she's going to attack us on sight."
"I was thinking more along the lines of an airdrop." Harry replied, eyeballing the distance. They were currently lurking just under the domed ceiling of the Halls of Repose, and the Maiden of Grief was little more than a tiny speck under them.
"You want us to jump?" Jessir asked incredulously. "I know you put Featherfall enchantments on our armor, but that still seems… insane."
"Don't be such a scaredy cat, people did it for fun back on our world."
For some reason, this did not convince the two night elves that jumping from fatal heights was an acceptable course of action.
"I suppose it isn't that much different from jumping over the balcony back at the tower." Colette mused, also looking down. They had all been told to jump from the tower's balcony so that they would learn to trust the lack of fall damage.
"It is very different." Jessir insisted. "The worst we would have suffered then are broken legs. This fall would definitely kill us. What if the enchantment is overwhelmed by the impact."
"That's… not how the magic works." Harry shook his head. And here he'd thought that he'd been making some progress teaching Jessir about magic. "And you're staying here with Brann anyway. It makes no sense for ranged attackers to surrender the high ground."
"Oh, thank Elune!" Jessir muttered.
"I cannae say I was eager to rely on your magic to keep me from going splat." The dwarf said humorously.
"You have no idea what fun you're missing." Harry told them. "First one down gets to spank Jessir for being a wimp."
"Hey!" The girls all protested. Jessir for obvious reasons, the other three because he cheated and threw himself off the cloud before they were ready.
It wasn't actually his first free fall from a large height, but it was the first one while wearing heavy armor. Not having the wind rushing past your face took a lot away from the experience, but it wasn't like he was doing this for fun. Harry angled himself into a dive that would see him land just behind the Maiden of Grief and hoped that Archaedas was right about her being salvageable. Because if she wasn't, then she was going to be pretty pissed.
A couple of hundred meters before landing, he turned around and point his feet towards the ground, holding tightly to the Bladestaff of Atiesh. As cool as it would be to come down with an Uber Bonk from the Sky, he didn't actually want to damage either the Maiden of Grief or his staff.
Thus he crashed into the ground feet first, surprising the female Titanic Watcher. Before she could react, he thrust the head of his staff right into the crack of her ass.
A man still had to have his fun, after all.
"Administrator override, Diagnostic Mode." He intoned immediately, willing his meaning to enter the Maiden of Grief through the Heart of Azeroth.
She froze in place immediately and he sighed in relief. Her system wasn't corrupted, merely hijacked.
"WHEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
"AAAAAAAAH!"
Shouts came from the sky, a combination of Luna's gleeful enjoyment, and Arko and Colette's fear. All three of them crashed into the ground in front of the Maiden of Grief, none the worse for the wear as the Featherfall enchantment negated the kinetic energy.
"Merciful Elune, night elves were not made to fly." Arko said shakily, looking towards him and the Maiden of Grief. "Do you have her?"
Harry didn't answer, he was busy looking through the Titanic Watcher's system. She was a bit of a mess and should not even be named the Maiden of Grief. That had happened due to accumulated psychological damage from being forced to obey Loken's orders. It had altered her very soul and could not simply be fixed by rolling everything back with a system restore.
"Cancel all orders by Watcher Loken. Rescind Watcher Loken's command privileges." He commanded, once again pushing the order through with the Heart of Azeroth.
"Get ready, I'm bringing her out of diagnostic mode." Harry warned.
The Maiden of Grief did not immediately attack once he did so, but she went very, very still. He had a feeling that if she was flesh and blood, she would be trembling.
"You have freed me." She stated neutrally.
"Archaedas asked us to." Harry nodded. "Do you want to help us kill the fuck out of Loken and his tentacly master?"
It was always best to direct people's anger appropriately.
"Yes, I believe I do." The Maiden of Grief said darkly. "I will open the way to the Forge of Wills for you so that you may go slay his lieutenant, Sjonnir the Ironshaper. Then I shall go destroy Krystallus. Meet me outside once you are done."
And with that she strode off, violent intent in every motion.
"Well, she was bossy." Luna commented.
"If bossy is the worst we face in this place, I will be glad of it." Colette replied amusedly, knowing full well that it would not be so.
XXXXX
Sjonnir the Ironshaper knew something was wrong the moment that the seal barring the way to the Forge of Wills came undone. The Maiden of Grief was supposed to be maintaining the seal, which meant that she had either deliberately stopped or been destroyed. The latter was far more likely.
He was not surprised when a band of fleshbags came charging through a short while later. Their weapons and magics were powerful, as expected of any group capable of overcoming a Titanic Watcher. The iron dwarves, mighty as they were compared to soldiers of flesh, were no match for the champions of the mortal armies.
But they would fall before him.
"Soft, vulnerable shells. Brief, fragile lives." He rumbled threateningly. "You will fall before the strength of iron."
"The Mechanicus would love this guy." One of the invaders, the one with the bladed staff that seemed to be in command, quipped nonsensically.
What in the name of thunder and iron was the Mechanicus?
"The heck is the Mechanicus?" The only dwarf among their number asked, clearly confused. Given his attire as compared to the uniform armors of the others, he was not affiliated with them normally.
"Don't mind him. Harry sometimes rambles nonsense like that." The female with the greatsword as black as the Void said whimsically, easily cutting through an iron dwarf.
That made him angry. His iron dwarves had been made to withstand greater punishments than fleshy mortals. Seeing them slain so easily was an insult to his work.
"Right." The dwarf nodded. "If ye can keep that metal monstrosity busy, I'll see if I can sweet talk that machine into helping us!"
He intended to meddle with his forge?! Sjonnir could tolerate these insults no longer. He set the Forge of Wills to churn out iron dwarves at unsafe speeds and then waded into battle against the interlopers.
"I'll help Brann, you ladies handle the metalhead." The male from before ordered, brandishing his bladestaff.
That was when Sjonnir noticed that the crossguard of the blade as in fact a Titan artifact, and the blade itself was made of Azerite. If he was of flesh and blood, his eyes would have bulged in fury. As it was, they merely glowed with the lightning powering his heart as he prepared to destroy these fools.
The Ironshaper prepared to intercept the arrogant mage and dwarf, determined to not allow them to touch the sacred forge, but the mage cast a peculiar spell on him. With a flourish of his bladestaff, ropes of a strange orange material were launched at him.
Sjonnir attempted to blast it away with lightning, but the only thing that accomplished was to make the strange material slightly melty
"What is this?!" He demanded, straining against it. To his relief, he could feel it stretching and tearing.
"Rubber." The mage responded flippantly, rushing past him along with the dwarf.
Sjonnir would have liked nothing more than to strike at them while they had their backs turned, but he was set upon by the females, only just barely managing to rip apart the 'rubber' before they reached him. The two greatsword wielders, one of Void and one of moonlight, were not threats to be ignored. The priestess of the Moon Goddess was also making his life difficult, and the archer with her giant pet wolf were quickly taking down every iron dwarf created by the Forge of Wills. The fact that her arrows could punch through their metal heads and destroy the logic core within was deeply insulting to his craft.
Sjonnir realized that he was in serious danger of being defeated here and failing Keeper Loken.
"What the hell are you doing? Don't just push buttons randomly!" The mage said in a scolding tone.
"How else am I supposed to figure out how this thing works?" The dwarf responded in a complaining tone. "This is a wee bit trickier than anything I've done before."
"You made it spit out iron troggs." The mage complained back, exasperated. "Budge over, this thing is basically a computer. How hard can it be to use?"
"The heck is a computer?!"
He was forcibly distracted from the infuriating conversation by a blade of moonlight swinging towards one of his legs. He raised his foot to catch it on his greaves, channeling lightning through it at the same time. Annoyingly, the shock that should have gone through the fleshsack instead flowed through the armor dissipated into the ground. Whoever had made that armor understood the principles of electricity, and was that…? Yes, there were lines of elementium inlaid into the armor as well, further dampening the power of any elemental attack that hit it.
Annoying.
Sjonnir had to keep moving to prevent the two sword wielders from flanking him, unable to overwhelm either one before the other came to help. And that accursed priestess was always ready with a barrier to protect them as well. At least the iron troggs were still helping him, even if they were a failed design.
And still the dwarf and the mage continued their infuriating conversation.
"Fucking hell, this thing is backed up." The mage grumbled. "It's watching my foster mother try to use the printer. There we go, delete all orders."
If he wasn't so busy, Sjonnir would have yelled at them.
"Uh, are ye sure that was a good idea?" The dwarf asked warily, staring at the Forge of Wills as unprocessed metal began leaking from it.
Sjonnir knew that it was not, but he was busy fending off a pair of greatswords seeking his life. Or his legs.
"Umm, Harry, I think you made a T-1000." The priestess observed, far too casually in the vrykul's opinion.
"It is not a T-1000." The mage protested, still fiddling with the Forge interface. "Just because it's a puddle of liquid metal that is clumping together into a bigger shape… okay, yes, I can see the resemblance."
"I don't know what a T-1000 is, but me and Della can't do anything to that ooze!" The archer called out.
"Della and I." The mage corrected.
"Is this really the time for lessons on grammar?!" The dwarf demanded incredulously.
"It is always time for grammar lessons." The mage refuted, turning to the iron ooze and casting a spell.
Instead of a blast of destructive magic, it was a spray of fine sand. As Sjonnir caught both greatswords on his gauntlets and shoved them away to give himself some breathing room, he had to acknowledge the genius of the choice. The sand was absorbed into the ooze and the entire thing became inert, the damaged logic driving the ooze to clump together registering too much impurity.
Seeing his defeat approaching, Sjonnir threw all caution to the wind. Drawing on all the lightning within him, he roared his defiance and tried to batter the greatsword-wielding females to the ground. "You have won nothing! Loken will not rest until the Forge is retaken!"
He had attacked the one with the sword of Void, relentlessly trying to batter her down. He smashed his fists against her over and over again, ignoring the wound he was accumulating from the others. The spells of the priestess frustrated him and the swordswoman's own defense was much greater than he had expected. Though she felt down to a knee, he simply could not batter her into paste.
"You shouldn't pound a lady so hard without giving her any warning." The innuendo-laden complaint was one of the last things he heard.
It confirmed his belief that the flesh sacks did not deserve to hold dominion over Azeroth.
XXXXX
Harry heard the clang of the iron vrykul's body falling, but he didn't turn back to look, far too absorbed in figuring out the Forge of Wills.
If what Archaedas said was true, then this vast device, far larger than it appeared here, had been used to draw cosmic energies towards Azeroth's slumbering world soul and shape her sentience before Loken got his mitts on it. Now that it was back in the proper hands it could be used for that purpose again.
The proper hands being his own, of course. Then he just had to find its twin, the Forge of Origination, on the other side of the world, with which he could shape Azeroth's body. Nobody else could be trusted with that kind of power.
Oh, he was sure that everyone with an opinion with disagree and cry foul, claiming that he would misuse such a thing, but they didn't understand. No matter who shaped Azeroth into her final form, they would misuse the power, which is why it was imperative that only he do it, so that it could be misused properly.
It would still likely be the work of centuries before the process was anywhere near complete, but it would no longer take eons for Azeroth to finish gestating within her shell. More importantly, with the Forge of Wills, he would be able to imbue upon her enough care that she would not carelessly burst out of her rocky womb and quite possibly destroy the planet in doing so, either physically or spiritually.
The Titans were clearly capable of subtle touches, and there was no reason why Azeroth should be unable to wiggle out of her cradle carefully.
Ah, but mastering this massive magical computer was going to take a while. Forming rudimentary souls to embody shells, be they made of iron, stone or flesh, was merely a minor sideshow of what it can do. Comprehending its true purpose required a mastery of mathematics, arcane and spirit that was already causing his head to hurt.
The fact that he was connected to the Titan it was meant to shape via the Heart of Azeroth was the only thing allowing him to make any sense of this at all.
"…ry. Harry!"
Blinking, he disengaged from the Forge of Wills and looked back at his women, struggling to remember what they had been doing just now. "…Yes?"
"Are you okay?" Luna asked, peering at him with some concern. "You spaced out pretty hard just now."
"I'm fine." He assured, already yearning to turn back to the Forge. "I was just a bit… overwhelmed."
"You can play with that thing later." Arko said, almost causing an indignant protest to spring from his mouth. "We can let the expedition secure this part of Ulduar while we move forward."
Oh, right. They still had a parasite to uproot. Continuing to shape Azeroth's soul with Yogg-Saron so close might not be the greatest of ideas.
"You are completely correct. Let's go kill stuff. Just give me a few minutes to lock this thing down…"
"Lock it down?" Brann spoke up in a mix of protest and confusion. "I was thinkin' we would use it to create more earthen to fight against Loken."
"Haha, no. The Forge of Wills is not going to be used for something so petty. Besides, it has another terminal in the Halls of Lightning that Loken is currently using to spit out iron vrykul. I only know how to shut down the whole thing or nothing at all."
"… Aye, fair enough." Brann nodded.
"Can Keeper Loken not simply unlock it again?"
"If he can guess the password." Harry said cheekily. Currently, the corrupted Keeper had unrestricted access, but the Heart of Azeroth was once more proving to be a bit of a backdoor since the authority of a Titan automatically superseded that of a Keeper. "Forge of Wills, grant emergency access override. Lock all functions behind password."
"Titan authority recognized, Speaker. Provide password." The limited magic AI droned.
Harry took a deep breath, did a quick meditation to dig around his memory, and began rattling off the most secure password he could think of.
"One-seven-three-four-six-seven-two- one-four-seven-six-charlie-three-two-seven-eight-nine-seven-seven-seven-six-three-tango-seven-three-two-victor-seven-three-one-one-seven-one-eight-eight-eight-seven-three-two-four-seven-six-seven-eight-nine-seven-six-four-three-seven-six."
Wheezing from lack of air, he gave everyone a thumbs up.
"Password accepted." The magic computer droned.
"Was that a Star Trek reference?" Luna squealed.
"That was the only scene in the whole series I thought was actually cool." Harry admitted. Once again, the Mind Arts and the bootleg eidetic memory they provided had come to the rescue.
"What in the name of the Moon is Star Trek, and what was that ridiculous password?" Arko demanded. "Would a simple phrase not be enough?"
"I'll explain Star Trek and password security on the way. For now, let's go meet up with Jaina."
XXXXX
Meanwhile, in the Halls of Lightning…
"What is the meaning of this, Volkhan?!" Keeper Loken bellowed at the fire giant he had left in charge of the Iron Crucible.
"I do not know , my lord." Volkhan bellowed back. Not because he was angry, that was just how he talked. "The Forge suddenly began demanding a password and refuses to work."
Loken stormed forward and interfaced with the great machine. What he found there was infuriating.
"A fifty-two word password?! This will take me an age to break!" Especially seeing as the computational power of the Forge of Wills was also locked behind the password.
XXXXX
When Harry requested her help handling the dangers of Ulduar, Jaina had expected an increased intensity of flirting. She and Kalecgos weren't even in a relationship – although Aegwynn had also said that the new Aspect of Magic was interested – and everything she'd seen from Harry so far told her that he would try even harder to win her over.
It would have been annoying – Although a few of his gestures had been sweet – but the chance to foil the plans of the last active Old God was too great to refuse just because she didn't want to deal with it.
Instead there had been… nothing. Luna had made more affectionate gestures, while Harry was keeping everything entirely professional.
Jaina didn't trust it and, not long before they were to enter the Halls of Lightning to destroy the corrupt Keeper Loken, she confronted him about it.
"What are you up to?" She demanded.
Harry paused and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific. There are always any number of things I'm up to."
Blushing with embarrassed frustration and having to spell it out, she made a vague gesture at the space between them. "Why did you suddenly stop flirting? Not that I want you to continue!" She was quick to add when she saw him grin and open his mouth.
Harry huffed at being denied, but didn't lose his amused expression. "You've got a thing with Kalecgos, don't you?"
Annoyed at having it described as a 'thing', Jaina huffed back. "He has indicated that he is… interested."
"Hehe, how diplomatic. Your roots are showing." He chuckled. Then suddenly, much to her surprise, he put his hands on her shoulders. "Jaina, sweetie, you should know that there are few things more pathetic than men fighting over a woman. It was fun, but I am ultimately the one who women fight over."
She could only stare at him in disbelief for a long moment. "You sure have a high opinion of yourself."
"So do you, otherwise you'd have already fallen for my charms." Harry countered with a smirk. "Just like you know your worth and won't lower yourself to sharing a man, I won't stoop to competing with another man over a woman, especially one I actually like."
Jaina shrugged off his hands and stared up at him with a frown. "That seems pretty insulting to your wives."
"Not at all." He dismissed. "Luna has been with me since the beginning, Arko and Jessir liked what we were offering, and Colette knew exactly what she wanted. You also know pretty well what you want, so it's only natural that Kalecgos would tickle your pickle more than me."
"He does not 'tickle my pickle'!" Jaina squawked in outrage at the strange expression.
"Sure." Harry replied sagely. "In any case, despite my desire to lick your belly until you squeal, I consider you a friend and I'm not going to get in the way of your potential happiness. Kalecgos is a good guy and if it works out between the two of you then it is more than worth the disappointment of not having you myself. And if it doesn't work out… well, comforting a heartbroken woman is a tried and tested way of getting into her panties."
"I… you…!" Jaina sputtered and fumed, suppressing the childish urge to stomp her foot. "Why must you always be so infuriatingly contradictory?!"
Noble goals with borderline monstrous methods, and now such a touching sentiment with a scummy backup plan.
Harry gave her a thumbs up and a cheesy grin. "That's how I roll."
XXXXX
The Bronzebeard Expedition was not a proper army, but it was by no means without teeth. The Storm Peaks were home to some of the most dangerous creatures and beings on Azeroth, and the Expedition would never have gotten anywhere if it could not face such dangers.
Either for the promise of gold, glory, or through Brann Bronzebeard's affable charisma, a considerably number of adventurers had split off from the siege of Icecrown to join him on his quest. Most of them were from the Alliance, but there was a fair few members of the Horde who took the chance.
Them not being a proper army did, however, come with some… issues. The primary one being that they had problems simply obeying orders without questioning them. Harry had gained a certain amount of fame since coming to Azeroth, but he was mostly well known among the faction leaders and their generals. To the average soldier or adventurer, he was just that one perverted archmage with four wives.
Luna was better known, but only among the night elves and, amusingly enough, the orcs. Those Kor'kron guards that Varok Saurfang had assigned to her during the Ahn'Qiraj campaign had apparently been chatty.
The bottom line was that the Battle Harem simply lacked the established fame to command such a diverse bunch as the adventurers making up the Bronzebeard Expedition's muscle. You'd think that fighting Void abominations and demon lords would be enough, but the rapid pace of disasters plaguing Azeroth had lowered the impact of each individual event.
If Archimonde had invaded now, it would be much less of a big deal and Jaina wouldn't be a globally renowned hero. But five years ago, Azeroth had been a much more peaceful place and she had been one of the primary heroes to step up and defend it, so famous she was.
That was enough to get this pack of grumbling gloryhounds to shut up and listen. That was important, because Harry did not fancy going into the Halls of Lightning and then the depths of Ulduar without backup, not against the armies of iron and all the other shit lurking down there.
Jaina was also a powerful archmage, experienced battle commander, and a woman with connections. All traits that would be invaluable for the invasion of Ulduar.
The Titan complex was too massive to be taken with anything less than an army, even if the battles deeper inside would have to be done by powerful champions who could resist the influence of the Old God imprisoned within. Reinforcements from the Alliance, the Horde and the Kirin Tor would have to be called and it would go over better if the call came from Jaina.
Harry wasn't keen on expending his own political capital just yet, such as it was.
XXXXX
The Discs of Norgannon were an incredible cheat item. With them, priceless and obscure information was just a consultation with Archaedas away. Information such as what happened to Keeper Thorim.
Though given the very obvious parallels with Norse mythology, Harry hardly needed them to figure out that Loken had pulled a fast one on him. Still, it was good to have confirmation.
"What brings you to the Temple of Storms, mortal?" The Titanic Watcher asked broodily, slumped on his throne. His voice boomed and cracked like thunder, but the inflection was morose and dispirited.
"I'm here to tell you something that is going to make you extremely angry." Harry declared.
"Oh?" Thorim raised an unimpressed eyebrow.
"Loken was the one who killed your wife."
Even the permanent storm clouds above seemed to pause in shock. For several long, tense seconds, there was only silence. Then Thorim surged from his throne and roared at the sky, making lightning strike a hundred times nearby.
"THAT TREACHEROUS WORM!" The Titanic Watcher raged.
"You're just going to take my word for it? Harry was amused, having expected to at least need to do some persuading.
"I did not care to think about it before, but it makes sense." Thorim's voice was still seething mad. "Loken was corrupted by Yogg-Saron and then he tells me that my wife is slain by the frost giants, his enemies. He used me!"
"That he did." Harry agreed. "You wanna kill him?"
Thorim hefted his hammer, Krolmir. "Yes, I very much do."
"Then how about you come to the Halls of Lightning with us? We've got a raiding party all planned out."
"Mortal, I thank you for coming to tell me the truth, but my vengeance is my own."
"Bro, I don't give a shit about your vengeance, I just want to use you as a weapon against Loken and Yogg-Saron, and I'm not going to risk you going alone and failing."
That snapped Thorim out of his rage and he blinked down at the wizard in bafflement. "You are… refreshingly honest."
"I get that a lot." Harry nodded. "I figured you'd be too mad to agree to a proper plan, which is why I waited until the last second to talk to you."
"Mortals have certainly become brazed over the millennia." He frowned. "I am Thorim, Lord of Thunder. What is your name?"
"Harry, self-appointed Guardian and Speaker of Azeroth." He acquiesced to the implicit request for his name. "By the way, the mission into the Halls of Lightning has already begun. You'll have to hurry if you want to join in on the fun~."
"WHAT?!" Thorim's outraged demand followed behind him as he teleported away, assured that the Titanic Watcher would be right behind him.
XXXXX
The mission into the Halls of Lightning was somewhat different than the one into the Halls of Stone, but followed the same general principle. The Battle Harem still used the same trick of flying just under the ludicrously high ceilings, shrouded in concealing magic. But this time, there was an added distraction on the ground in the form of a furious Maiden of Grief, accompanied by stone warriors led by the Maiden of Virtue sent by Archaedas. A party of Alliance adventurers also volunteered to back them up, creating a formidable force.
Their entrance was loud and immediately noticed by the iron dwarves and iron vrykul, and a defense was mounted.
The first room of the Halls of Lightning was a vast natural cavern that was being used as some kind of storage chamber. Wide pathways hung suspended over an army of motionless and lifeless iron vrykul who were still waiting to be imbued with the spark of life.
It was clearly not a purpose-made defensive position, but it wasn't a bad one. The narrow approach would force attackers to slog their way through everything that the defenders could throw at them.
Fortunately, the iron vrykul in charge of actually doing the defending was an utter blockhead. Very normal for his race, really, as the vrykul, be they made of flesh or iron, were basically a viking caricature blown up to giant size.
As such, General Bjarngrim very predictably discarded all thought of creating an impenetrable killzone with the forces under his command and instead charged recklessly into the fray.
"I am the greatest of my father's sons!" He roared, swinging his twin axes at the Maiden of Grief, forcing her to block. "Your end has come!"
He very well could have been a problem, as these iron vrykul champions were no joke as warriors. Too bad for him that his battle lust had left him wide open for an assassination move. A single arrow flew from Jessir's bow, a tip of spellforged adamantite imbued with white-hot fire piercing through Bjarngrim's iron skull and melting the insides to slag. Even if they didn't have organs in the same way as the fleshies, they did have a brain analogue.
The shock of their general's unexpected death sent the iron dwarves he commanded into confusion, making them easy prey for the two Titanic Watchers and their backup.
"I suppose it would be too much to hope for that the rest of it will also be that easy?" Jessir asked, lowering her bow.
"Hard to say for Volkhan, but Ionar and Loken will definitely need more than arrows to kill." Harry shrugged, not truly worried. The true challenge was not going to be in the Halls of Lightning, no matter how important Loken thought he was. Plus, Thorim should be crashing the party soon.
XXXXX
Unbeknownst to Harry, but locking Loken out of the computer system had hurt him considerably more than simply preventing the creation of more soldiers. It had also shut him out of the security apparatus, so the corrupted Watcher didn't even realize he was being invaded until they were right on top of him.
"What is the meaning of this?!" He demanded when he was confronted in the Terrestrial Watchtower, his seat of power.
"You will pay for your transgressions, traitor!" The Maiden of Grief boomed back.
"You dare call me a traitor?" Loken demanded, clearly not seeing his own actions as wrong. "Where are Volkhan and Ionar? What have you done with them?"
"Brainfreeze and rubber." Harry 'explained' unhelpfully. "As Speaker to Azeroth and self-appointed representative of the Pantheon on this planet, I hereby use my self-appointed authority to terminate your employment. If you wish to challenge my decision, you may file a complaint at the sapient resources department."
For a long moment, Loken was rendered speechless at the sheer audacity. Then lightning started sparking around him in his rage. "I have witnessed the rise and fall of empires... the birth and extinction of entire species... Over countless millennia the foolishness of mortals has remained the only constant. Your presence here confirms this, yet you think to dismiss me?"
"I'm not the one who let himself get enslaved by a tentacled horror from the beyond." Harry shot back. "I didn't really expect you to go quietly, but it was worth a try. Now prepare to be reduced to scrap metal."
"Azeroth will be reborn in darkness. Yogg-Saron shall be released! The Pantheon shall fall!" Loken roared. "You have no hope!"
"LOKEEEEEEEEN!!!!!" The enraged roar moved through the halls not unlike a tidal wave, making the air molecules vibrate from the sheer fury in it.
"Thorim?!" Loken squawked in uncharacteristic shock. "But it is too soon!"
Harry perked up at that, realizing that the corrupted Watcher had apparently had a plan in mind for Thorim, which he had accidentally ruined. What excellent luck.
The lightning around Loken expanded to fill the entire cavernous chamber, shocking everyone. Not especially badly thanks to how diffuse it was, but constantly. Harry, Luna and Colette only felt the equivalent of annoying static thanks to their armor and elementium bones. Everyone else had it a bit worse as they felt over shouts of surprised pain, their muscles seizing up painfully.
The only ones anything close to truly unaffected were the forces of Uldaman, the lightning merely scorching their stone skin. Their bodies didn't work based on electrical impulses.
Luna and Harry were quick to extend barriers to keep the lightning aura out, dragging the fleshy adventurers into it to protect them.
Jessir immediately fired an arrow at him as soon as she got control of her body back, but was dismayed when it was repulsed before reaching the corrupted Watcher. "It works defensively, too?!"
Next to her, an angry Della growled in agreement, looking like a giant fluffball thanks to the powerful static charge making her fur stand on end.
"The lightning aura he's generating is creating a powerful magnetic field around him." Harry easily identified the problem. "Ferrous metals won't work on him… and I'm not sure if non-ferrous ones will either."
Because it was a magic magnetic field, so it didn't have to follow the usual rules. But that wasn't going to matter for much longer, as Thorim had a far greater command of lightning than Loken ever could.
And here he was now, charging into the fray with hammer in hand. If he was a being of flesh and blood, he would probably be foaming at the mouth in rage.
"LOKEN!" He roared again, hurling his hammer.
Loken just barely managed to dodge, holding his hands out towards Thorim. "Bend to the will of Yogg-Saron!"
Wisps of shadow streamed from the corrupted Keeper, reaching towards the enraged Lord of Thunder.
"Back him up!" Harry ordered quickly. Luna cast a blessing on Thorim, while the rest of them attacked Loken. With his lightning magic disrupted, he was much less dangerous and his attempts to twist Thorim's grief into shackles of slavery to Yogg-Saron ended about the time that the Maiden of Grief struck him clean on the chin with her hammer.
XXXXX
While Harry was finishing up in the Halls of Lightning, Jaina was coordinating the siege of Ulduar.
It was not something that she had ever done before and had to lean heavily on the expertise of Brann Bronzebeard, who was at the end of the day still a prince of Ironforge and had the education to match. Dwarves were masters of siegecraft, although usually on the defensive side of things.
A particular saving grace of the situation was that Ulduar had been constructed to imprison an Old God and its defenses were largely turned inward. That made it significantly easier to push in deeper as they gradually took control of the Titan-built defensive towers and used them against the armies of iron and the corrupted Watcher forces.
The Flame Leviathan steam tank fell first, then Ignis the Furnace Master, and finally the clockwork giant they later identified as XT-002 Deconstructor. That was when the assault stalled.
All of those foes had been outside, where the Bronzebeard Expedition and the allies she had been able to call in had the advantage not only in numbers but also in position thanks to Ulduar's overtaken defenses.
Down in Ulduar proper, their advance was stymied by the Assembly of Iron, a trio of iron generals, each representing one of the titan-forged races. Stormcalled Brundir for the iron dwarves, Runemaster Molgeim for the iron vrykul, and Steelbreaker for the iron giants. Each one was powerful individually, and together they maintained a staunch defense.
There was also no other entrance deeper into Ulduar except through them as far as anyone knew. Jaina could think of no strategy other than brute forcing their way through, which she knew would cost them a lot of blood to do.
"That's a problem alright." Harry acknowledged as he was filled in.
Not only was the Assembly of Iron physically powerful, they were also skilled with magic. Runemaster Molgeim in particular had been able to frustrate any attempt to crack their defense magically with runes that absorbed and redirected all kinds of force.
"I don't suppose you have any tricks up your sleeve that would make this less painful?" Jaina asked, tightening her grip on Aluneth.
The extra-dimensional wizard's outside the box thinking had proven effective several times in the past, however uncomfortable his ideas could sometimes be. She would rather not sacrifice the lives of the brave men and women fighting for her here if she didn't have to.
"If this was a flesh and blood enemy I would have suggested poisoning their air, food and water." He mulled pensively, making Jaina sigh in exasperation at the casual ruthlessness. "The situation is effectively a case of reverse tower defense."
"Tower defense?" Jaina scrunched her nose in confusion. Obviously, towers were defensive structures, but what did he mean?
"It's a type of game from back home." Harry explained with an amused quirk of his lips. "You have limited resources with which to defend a fixed objective, while waves of enemies come at you from predictable directions in an attempt to overwhelm the defenses you set up. If you use your resources poorly, then you lose, but if you set them up wisely, the enemy may never come anywhere close to the objective. Here, we are playing the role of the enemy."
Jaina wasn't stupid by any means and quickly grasped what he was getting at. "You're suggesting that we must somehow overwhelm their defenses, or manipulate them into using their resources poorly."
"There are three ways for use to do the former." Harry nodded. "Somehow funnel Scourge troops into Ulduar, mass scale demon or elemental summoning, or use the Forge of Wills to create expendable soldiers to throw at them."
"None of those sound like a good idea." She pinched the bridge of her nose.
Even before asking how they would get the Scourge to do their dirty work, it sounded stupid. Mass scale demon summoning was perhaps even dumber. Summoning a huge amount of elementals was slightly better, but still not great because getting enough of them to make a difference was sure to piss off an Elemental Lord. Using the Forge of Wills to create their own armies didn't have the same practical problems, but the thought of creating living beings just to wage war for them made her gut churn rebelliously.
"The remaining earthen have already asked that they be allowed to repopulate their race and retake custody of Ulduar once it's cleansed." Harry spoke up, easily guessing at her problem. "Their way of thinking is not as messy as that of us meatsacks with all our glands and hormones – they won't object to fighting for it."
"And you're sure you can control the Forge of Wills to do that?" Jaina asked.
"That's the easiest part of its function." He nodded. "And my divine domain won't allow me to even perceive any options for binding them, so no concerns of me creating a slave army, accidentally or deliberately."
Jaina had put in great effort to understanding the mentalities of all the races she encountered. The idea that even freshly made earthen were not children and instead fully formed adults was only slightly difficult to grasp. She knew, however, that too many would go for it instantly because they would not consider the earthen to be truly alive. Why should 'real' people risk their lives when they had stone golems to fight for them?
That was the conundrum that she feared to introduce, and why she was glad that Harry had taken control of the Forge of Wills. She would not trust most of the Alliance or Horde leadership with it, and Harry would absolutely refuse to allow them access to it.
"How about manipulating the iron generals to misuse their resources?" She delayed the decision. "Short of using one type of magic for an extended period to bait them into defending against only that and then striking with the opposite, I can't see many options."
And that wouldn't be much of a strategy, it didn't need to be said.
"You're not going to like it." He warned.
"I know." Jaina's sigh was long and defeated.
"Alright then." Harry nodded. "You see, they've already misused their resources, if you look at it from a different angle. The current bulwark they set up is a masterwork of defense. Throwing an army at that entrenched position would be horribly wasteful… but what if we threw something else at it?"
Jaina didn't ask the obvious question, instead bracing herself for his suggestion.
After not being fed the straight line he was waiting for, Harry huffed and gestured dramatically. "One word, Jaina: bombs. We just ram a whole fucking steam tank full of powerful explosives into the middle of their army. They'll either be forced to stagger their defenses, making it easier for us to push through incrementally, or continue presenting a target for future suicide runs."
"Suicide?!" Jaina exclaimed in alarm.
"Sorry, force of habit." Harry apologized. "My world had plenty of crazies willing to drive vehicles full of explosives into buildings. I'm sure we can rig something that spares us the need for a driver."
"The more I hear about your world, the crazier it sounds." She said warily.
"That's because you're only hearing about the fun parts." He replied sagely. "On average, it was far more boring than Azeroth."
XXXXX
Unlike the beings of flesh, the titan-forged iron legions were of unflinching purpose. They felt no fear or hesitation. They did not get distracted or bored. There were no glands and hormones telling them to chase after heavy metal poontang.
That being said, they could be confused. A single steam tank charging towards their defensive line at full speed with the words 'choo-choo, motherfucker!' written across its front armor was most certainly a peculiar event.
"What foolishness do the mortals attempt now?" Stormcaller Brundir asked, mostly rhetorically.
"Nothing of consequence." Steelbreaker dismissed.
"They fail to achieve victory so they resort to petty insults." Runemaster Molgeim snorted.
The three iron generals watched with unimpressed eyes as the singular vehicle trundled forward. Blasts of lightning launched by theurgists struck it, but it was deflected by powerful defensive spellcraft. That was worthy of some interest… or it would be if there was more than one such vehicle attacking. Or if they had not long ago erected barricades that would prevent progress.
Their sense of superiority was rudely interrupted when the steam tank hit those barricades. A roaring wave of fel flame burst forth from the steam tank, obliterating the nearby iron soldiers and coating every surface in vile green goop that sizzled and ate through metal.
Runemaster Molgeim's defensive wards were overwhelmed by the unholy assault and Steelbreaker, being the most giant of the iron giants (and thus also the one with the most surface area), was covered in the largest amount of fel goop. In comparison, Stormcaller Brundir got off easy.
Using his mastery of lightning, the iron dwarf levitated himself into the air, attempting to impose some order upon the suddenly very chaotic situation.
"Reform battle lines!" He bellowed even as he assessed how bad the situation was.
And it was bad. The beautifully ordered defensive position they had created was utterly ruined. What had been perfect to repel invaders was catastrophic when attacked with such powerful explosives. The iron soldiers had been clustered too close together.
But there was no time to recover. He could already see the invaders coming, obviously looking to take advantage of the chaos they had created with their blasphemous use of the Twisting Nether.
"No matter what you do, you are still only mortal!" Brundir shouted at them, preparing to hurl the most powerful lighting blast of his life at them.
And then a single arrow blazed through at blistering speed. It dragged at his lightning, somehow picking up further speed, and struck him right in the forehead.
"Make way, mortals coming through."
The mocking words were the last thing he heard as his consciousness faded.
XXXXX
"Don't you just love the smell of war crimes in the morning?" Harry said, dragging air into his nose with exaggerated force.
"Azeroth doesn't have a Geneva Convention, so this doesn't count as a war crime." Luna pointed out
"Don't ruin my fun, dear."
"Why would you want your actions to be considered war crimes?" Arko asked exasperatedly.
"I find honesty much more fun than euphemisms."
It was only a war crime if you lost, after all. If you won it was an 'unfortunate reality', a 'rogue action', a 'necessary sacrifice', or his personal favorite, an 'isolated incident'. Some of the best fun he'd ever had was refusing to call the goblin extermination back home 'The Final Goblin Rebellion'. Both foreign politicians and his own underlings regularly tore their hair out at him calling it 'The Glorious Goblin Slaughterfest' and happily explaining to anyone who asked that he'd killed them because he just didn't like them.
It was also important to make the old king unpopular so that the new one had an easier time consolidating power. He hadn't wanted Lorkhan to deal with a bunch of whiny shits bemoaning his abdication.
"And I suppose annoying Jaina has nothing to do with it?" Jessir asked sarcastically.
"Would I do such a thing?"
"Yes." Colette gave a ladylike snort, gesturing towards the approaching Jaina Proudmoore. "Something tells me you neglected to mention a few details about your plan."
Yes, he had indeed.
"When you said bombs…" Jaina spat out the word after stopping right in front of him, glaring into his eyes. "You failed to mention that they would be fel bombs!"
"Did I? My bad. But it worked out for the best, since you would have objected to those."
"Of course I would have objected!" The young archmage roared in a rare display of temper. "This entire section of Ulduar is covered in demonic slime that is eating the walls!"
"It'll be fine." Harry waved off. "The Titans built stuff to last. It'll take more than throwing a few hundred demons into a blender, squeezing the bits with a modified wine press, distilling the leftover juice, and turning it into an explosive to really damage this place."
Jaina looked distinctly green at the description, but not as green as the near radioactive fel glow on the walls.
"And look, here comes the clean-up crew already." Harry continued heedlessly, pointing at a troop of dwarves with glowing golden flamethrowers.
"Purge it in holy fire, lads!" One of the dwarves hooted, hosing the walls with blessed napalm.
"Those dwarves have really taken a shine to your flamethrowers." Colette observed.
"There's a little bit of pyromaniac in us all, they're just more in tune with theirs."
"Just… go help set up the forward base." Jaina sighed in defeat. "And could you at least try to not spring any more nasty surprises on me?"
"... It is an unfortunate reality of war that nasty surprises tend to happen."
XXXXX
It has been stated previously, but Ulduar is massive. After the initial push, progress slowed down considerably. With the continuing defense of the corrupted titanic wacthers and the remaining armies of iron, it took over a month to press forward into the deeper depths.
The fact that the Bronzebeard Expedition was run by archaeologists might also have contributed to the delays. As did the fact that they actually had to clear out every bit of it to prevent untimely reinforcements during the inevitable battle against Yogg-Saron. The Discs of Norgannon were also unfortunately of little use, the Old God's influence muddling up their ability to record things.
But they did advance. They fought the giant construct Kologarn that guarded the Shattered Walkway, they put the maddened Titanic Watcher Auriaya, long driven mad by exposure to Yogg-Saron, out of her misery. They tracked down the brilliant mechagone Mimiron and disabled him so that his mind might be restored. They beat down Freya and Hodir until Harry was able to use his divine domain to free them. Thorim was grateful to see his kin again, giving an almost groveling apology to Hodir for allowing himself to be tricked into attacking his sons.
Finally, they made it down to Yogg-Saron's prison proper. It was easy to tell because the architecture had begun to warp under the Old God's influence, and maddening whispers began to prey upon the minds of all who drew near. Only the strongest and most mentally resilient were allowed to continue past that point.
Against C'thun, they had the aid of the powerful green dragon Merithra to help shield their minds. Here, they would have to rely on Luna and the rescued Titanic Watchers to shield them.
"So, Jaina, you know how I mentioned that nasty surprises are an unfortunate reality of war?"
The powerful but adorkable archmage immediately tensed, looking at him warily. "Yes?"
"Well, I have one ready to deal with Yogg-Saron, but it's a bit indiscriminately nasty. I hate it, my girls hate it, Yoggurt is going to hate it, and you're definitely going to hate it."
Jaina just looked tired. "And things were going so well."
For a given value of well. The push into Ulduar had been a grind, but he hadn't deployed any doomsday devices or weapons of questionable ethical standing. Most of that was admittedly so that he could generate enough good will to keep Jaina from freaking out too badly when he sprung this one on her, but the adventurers also seemed to prefer fighting tooth and nail for every step of progress instead of clearing out the enemy with man-made horrors beyond comprehension, the lunatics.
"Don't worry, you won't have to deal with this one for long." Harry assured and gestured towards the ten foot tall woman-thing that was even now approaching, her form hidden by a large cloak. "Allow me to introduce you to Xal'Atath, a fragment of Y'Shaarj, the most powerful of the Old Gods and our secret weapon against the others."
Xal'Atath dramatically threw aside her cloak and revealed herself in all her oversized eldritch mommy dommy glory. "Greetings."
Jaina simply stared for almost a whole minute, then silently turned to Harry with dead eyes. "That knife on her waist looks suspiciously like the one I remember Azshara using against N'Zoth."
"Yeah, I asked to borrow it." Harry admitted. "Turns out that the ominously named Blade of the Black Empire had developed a fully formed personality over the ages after bonding with hundreds of wielders."
"Harry has such beautiful mastery over the Dark in his soul." Xal'Atath interjected, hugging herself as if remembering some wonderful memory. "As soon as his hands gripped me, I knew that I could do better than what the Void Lords sent us to Azeroth to do."
"Long shorty short, she's going to help us kill Yoggy, after which she has agreed to be exiled to an entirely different universe and will never trouble Azeroth again." Harry added, hoping that she won't ask further questions.
"But is she going to trouble whichever world you're going to be sending her to?" Jaina asked suspiciously.
"Jaina, darling, you really shouldn't concern yourself with other dimensions. They aren't your problem." He tried.
"Harry…"
"Alright yes, she will probably devour a few planets and maybe five hundred billion or so people before she gets herself killed, but it really isn't as bad as it sounds."
"I find your lack of faith in me disturbing." Xal'Atath sniffed.
"Not as bad as it sounds?!" Jaina exclaimed incredulously, ignoring the comment from the Void abomination. "You just told me that she's going to devour whole planets and more than ten thousand times Azeroth's entire population."
"To be fair, Azeroth is really sparsely populated." Harry countered. "And the universe she wants to go to is just that terrible. For you, hearing the about the loss of entire worlds and the deaths of billions is the worst thing you can imagine. For them, it is Tuesday."
Jaina worked her jaw for a moment, searching for a response. Finally, she resorted to morality. "That doesn't mean you can just dump your problems on them!"
"Don't hold it against him." Xal'Atath piped up again. "I did blackmail him into it. Either he sends me there or I share what I learned from him with Azshara."
"Would it help if I told you that the Imperium of Man is an incredibly cruel regime that regularly burns their own planets to ash? That they would rather murder a thousand innocents than let a single guilty man escape? That their stated goal is the extermination of all non-human sapient life? That they sacrifice a thousand souls to their emperor every single day and have been doing so for over ten thousand years?"
He left out all of that pesky context such a Chaos corruption and how pretty much all non-human sapient life in their galaxy was utterly inimical.
Jaina did not look reassured. In fact, she looked rather horrified. "How can any place be so evil?"
Harry figured that she didn't mean to whisper that rhetorical question, but he replied anyway. "Well, it all started because a bunch of skelly boys were envious that a bunch of giant toads lived longer than them. Then they just kept escalating until things went really out of control. At this point, they probably won't even notice the addition of Xal'Atath."
The eldritch abomination in question frowned at him. "I am starting to feel genuinely insulted by how little you think of me."
"Deal with it."
Jaina shook her head as if that would purge what he'd told her from her brain. "We don't have time to talk about this right now, but we will be talking about it later. You're sure that Xal'Atath can destroy Yogg-Saron?"
"Y'Shaarj was by far the most powerful of the Old Gods." The Voidspawn answered haughtily. "The core of my essence is simply greater."
"Just one question, how are you planning to explain this…" Jaina gestured to Xal'Atath. "… to the Watchers we saved?"
"I'm not." Harry shrugged carelessly. "They'll kick up a huge fuss and they're stubborn as hell, so I'm just going to drop her into the fight with Yogg-Saron so that they'll have bigger things to worry about. That way, there'll be at least a little good will when we have to talk about it."
The younger archmage looked very dubious about his plan, but said nothing more about it.
XXXXX
Xal'Atath wasn't as relaxed as she was acting. While incapable of feeling of fear in the way of mortals, she did understand threats and right now she was feeling pretty threatened.
She had not expected Harry to be able to successfully salvage so many Titanic Watchers, none of which would be happy with her existence even if she helped them against Yogg-Saron. Worse, she could not back out of the deal she made without allowing Harry to do the same. He could not betray her, nor even contemplate doing so, but he was not bound to aid her if someone else attacked her.
That situation was something that he was more than cunning enough to arrange. Maneuvering through this could prove… challenging.
Xal'Atath stayed hidden in a shadowed corner, covered in the darkness of her power. She ignored the strategizing and planning, dismissing it as irrelevant. Unlike these mortals, Yogg-Saron could not prey on her sanity and she had only one task in the battle ahead.
She waited and hid as they progressed past the last unspoiled areas of Ulduar and descended down into the corrupted realm of Yogg-Saron. The Old God's power had begun to twist even the construction of the Titans and his congealed blood had coated the walls in deposits of saronite ore.
If one did not care about its maddening effects, this place would be a treasure trove. As is, everyone was by now aware of how dangerous the 'metal' was and only the Lich King still made use of it for his minions.
Xal'Atath personally thought that Yogg-Saron's chosen means of corrupting the world were rather blunt and lacked subtlety, but what else could you expect of the second most powerful Old God? Y'Shaarj had also not much cared for subtlety either before being ripped out of Azeroth like a stubborn tick by the Titans.
She had been much the same in her early years, but through many ages and many wielders, she had learned the value of subtlety. Harry was her favorite so far, and not just because he was the last. He had known so much, and the Dark in his soul was not a thing of stewing bitterness and misery. It was placid, serene and silent.
It was the most beautiful Dark she had ever seen and Xal'Atath had known what she had to do as soon as it touched her. Creation was too loud, it had to be returned to silence.
That was why she wanted to go to that universe that Harry so feared. It was the loudest one he knew of.
The ragtag army slew its way through the mindless Voidspawn infesting the Descent of Madness. Their own strength and the blessings of Freya and Elune guarded their minds from the increasingly overbearing presence of Yogg-Saron. Then, at long last, they arrived at the Old God's chamber, where a thick pool of molten saronite bubbled, occasionally throwing globs of congealing blood at the walls. The walls themselves were already thickly encrusted with hardened saronite, and yet the room never seemed to grow smaller.
In front of the pool was a familiar face. General Vezax, ever Yogg-Saron's favorite minion since the days of the Black Empire. It would be an interesting reunion.
"Your destruction will herald a new age of suffering!" The ugly brute bellowed in greeting.
Xal'Atath stayed in the back while Harry's allies engaged Vezax. The ancient Faceless One was large and powerful, especially so close to his creator. Multiple, smaller, Faceless Ones began crawling out of the saronite muck to reinforce their general.
"The black blood of Yogg-Saron course through me!" Vezax continued shouting. "I. AM. UNSTOPPABLE!"
It was not just mortals that could be afflicted with overconfidence. Vezax was indeed greatly empowered by the liquid saronite he had no doubt been gorging on, but not invincible. Still, it was true that it would be incredible hard to injure him with that kind of empowerment.
Xal'Atath decided to announce herself in style. Stepping out of the darkness, a single swing of the twisted dagger that once housed her spirit sent out a slash of Void, cutting through the saronite barrier protecting Vezax. Her own particular essence trumped his, just as the powers of Y'Shaarj had always trumped those of Yogg-Saron.
"YOU?!" Vezax bellowed in outrage after he recovered, staring not at her but as the dagger in her hands. "You would aid these mortals against your own kin, traitor?!"
"You say that as if there was ever any kinship between us." Xal'Atath scoffed in contempt. "You and your master are an obstacle to my plans, so please die."
She noticed the Titanic Watchers and the uninformed adventurers looking at her uncertainly, but Harry was quick to divert their attention.
"She's with us!" He shouted. "Focus on Yogg-Saron! Do not waver!"
It was good advice. A split focus would allow the Old God's whispers to seep into their minds. Truly, it would have been better to inform them of her ahead of time, but then they would have argued and whined and made a fuss, as if their opinions mattered. The uncompromising Titanic Watchers may have even attacked her.
Just in time as well, as the Old God in question decided to make an appearance instead of relying on its minion. Bursting up from the pool of saronite sludge, Yogg-Saron was little more than a giant fanged maw topped by numerous eyes. Or, to be more accurate, such was the avatar of its gigantic true form. With it also came the obligatory tentacles that all of the Old Gods were so terribly fond of.
Xal'Atath had trouble taking them seriously after seeing what kind of associations Harry had for tentacles in his soul.
"Why is it always tentacles?" Luna asked plaintively. "There aren't even any Japanese school girls here."
"I'm almost afraid to ask." Jessir quipped.
"Smart woman." Harry snorted.
The easy banter in the face of their foe actually seemed to be bolstering their allies. That was good for them, because Yogg-Saron was doing his utmost to crush their minds and turn them into slaves. They attacked General Vezax with furious roars, hammering him with blade and spell and arrow. The hulking Faceless One drew on more saronite to bolster himself, but Xal'Atath once again cut through it, peeling away his protections and leaving him exposed. His defeat was certain now, but she didn't want it to be too easy.
"BOW DOWN BEFORE THE GOD OF DEATH!" Yogg-Saron bellowed, both verbally and telepathically. His roar made the walls shake and the flesh and blood mortals cringe away as it threatened to unravel their sanity. Only the protections of Freya and Elune spared them.
Xal'Atath was unaffected, her mind being nothing like that of the mortals.
"Harry, I'm going to go stab it in the brain!" She called out, sauntering casually towards Yogg-Saron's avatar. The powerful Void abberation's psychic might was warping reality now, which was more of a vulnerability than an advantage against her.
"Wait!" He shouted back in alarm, but she had no intention of doing any such thing.
Xal'Atath knew perfectly well that he didn't trust her not to pull a fast one, and he was correct. Those Titanic Watchers were going to be a problem after the fight, which meant that they couldn't be allowed to survive it. With a cheeky finger wiggle in his direction, she left the preoccupied archmage to his surface battle while she passed through a Void rift and deeper into Yogg-Saron's realm, opened with another casual swipe of her blade.
The din of battle was instantly replaced by a realm of shifting shadows in which thousands of despairing screams came from every direction. The noise of it all made Xal'Atath scowl. She could recognize quite a bit of it, moments in Azeroth's history when the shadows of the Void were empowered by the dark emotions of mortals. Oftentimes, such moments had been further nudged along by the imprisoned parasitic Old Gods exerting what little influence they could over the planet they were attached to.
How incredibly banal. For all their power, Y'Shaarj, Yogg-Saron, C'thun, and N'Zoth were little more than attack dogs for the Void Lords, who had hurled them across the universe out of petty resentment for the Titans. Not once in their existence had their thoughts turned inward to question what they were doing.
Xal'Atath was glad to have become more. The Old Gods held mortals in contempt and thought that turning the creations of the Titans to flesh was a curse, but she knew better now. The inherent weakness of flesh allowed room for growth that iron and shadow lacked, that was why she had wanted Harry to make her a body of meat and bone.
Even the moonsteel bones that constantly threatened to destroy her were only a temporary hindrance. Once she was away from Elune's sphere of influence, they would lose their power. The Moon Goddess could not even reach into Yogg-Saron's realm now.
"Enough." She said softly, flexing her own power. So deep in Yogg-Saron's domain it couldn't do much, but it did silence the pointless screaming. "You should know better than to use mental attacks against me."
"YOU WILL RETURN TO THE FOLD!" The voice of Yogg-Saron bellowed, as if simply being loud would make it true.
Xal'Atath was unperturbed, knowing that she had the upper hand. She was a fragment of Y'Shaarj and her own darkness had more weight, even if there was less of it. "Do you really have time to be worrying about me? If you don't get rid of those Titanic Watchers, the mortals will overwhelm you eventually."
"YOU THINK TO USE ME FOR YOUR OWN PURPOSES?!"
"Such is the fate of tools." Xal'Atath chuckled. In the beginning, she, too, had been a tool, meant to be wielded by Y'Shaarj's champions. Then the Titans had destroyed her creator and she had passed into mortal hands. Not knowing better, she had devoured them as soon as they touched her, but with Y'Shaarj dead, those souls became part of her instead of fueling the dead aberration that had created her. In time, she learned restraint and allowed herself to be used, only taking the souls of her wielder's victims.
Now, she didn't even need that anymore. Harry had, unknowingly, showed her a better way and given her a goal to strive towards.
"I AM THE GOD OF DEATH!"
Of all the mortal traits to develop, it had to choose arrogance.
"And I will be the Goddess of Silence; serene, dark, eternal." Xal'Atath retorted, pushing through Yogg-Saron's attempts to obstruct her until she stood before the core of its being. "Your death will pave the way for my ascension."
Yogg-Saron threw everything it had at her, but it was useless. Her mind could not be frayed by the maddening whispers of the Void and the feeble physical attacks of the Old God's spawned tentacles were easily smashed aside.
"Will you truly allow yourself to be destroyed simply to spite me?" Xal'Atath asked, already knowing the answer.
Yogg-Saron roared in frustration, attempting to hurl her out into the physical world. Xal'Atath sent out a tendril of shadow through the blade that once held her, hooking herself into the Old God's innermost essence. It wasn't enough, and she was forced out, but Yogg-Saron suffered for it, taking a wound that would never heal.
One of the Void portals spat her out back into the prison chamber of Ulduar and she quickly assessed the situation.
General Vezax had been hacked apart, but the endless tide of Faceless Ones spawning from the pool had not abated. Furthermore, there were many tentacles shooting beams of maddening psychic energy at the attackers. Several had already been driven mad and turned on their allies. Harry's huntress was doing a fine job plying the tentacles with arrows whenever they popped up, but she couldn't get them all.
More importantly, Yogg-Saron had taken her 'advice' and began trying to attack the Titanic Watchers. Freya seemed to be his main target, but the others were protecting her, so he couldn't just get at her directly.
"Keep at it, Harry." She called out cheerfully, sauntering back towards Yogg-Saron's physical avatar and the Void portals opening around it. "I almost had him."
"And here I was thinking of sitting down and taking a break." He snarled back sarcastically, wielding whips of golden fire against the tide. It was super effective.
Xal'Atath didn't answer, instead diving once more into Yogg-Saron's realm.
"That's a good boy." She cooed condescendingly. "You're almost there."
The Old God responded by shifting his realm around her. Instead of all-encompassing darkness, it shifted into the shape of Wyrmrest Temple.
Xal'Atath recognized the scene. It was the creation of the Dragon Soul, an event that the corruption of the Old Gods had pushed Neltharion to argue for. How droll.
"This isn't going to stop me, you know." She stated, slashing through the apparitions. They were mere images given form and had not even a fraction of the Aspects' powers. The change in scenery did make it harder to reach Yogg-Saron's core, but not by much. For her it was simply a walk where it would be a march through madness for a mortal.
"YOU WILL FAIL! ONLY DEATH IS ETERNAL!" Yogg-Saron bellowed.
"You realize that you are not actually a god, yes?" Xal'Atath asked sardonically. "You have but a handful of worshipers, and their faith is of questionable potency."
The banter was pointless. Yogg-Saron was powerful and intelligent, but barely self-aware in the truest sense, ultimately just a parasite. She was just speaking to pass the time until the opportune moment to deal the death blow.
Said parasite once again gathered its strength to hurl her out, and once again took a wound to do so.
The situation had deteriorated further. The Maiden of Grief and the Maiden of Virtue had been defeated, perhaps destroyed beyond repair. Thorim and Hodir were injured and desperately protecting Mimiron and Freya. The mortal warriors had lost a few more of their number, and seemed to be relying on a powerful shield that was taking all of Luna's focus to maintain.
On the other hand, the assault from Yogg-Saron had also slowed.
Xal'Atath slashed the air with the dagger of the same name and carved through a horde of Faceless Ones, opening another Void portal with the same move. "This time for sure!"
"GET ON WITH IT ALREADY!" It wasn't just Harry that yelled at her, but all the others that knew her role in the battle. Maybe she had been overdoing the acting?
"Time to die, Yoggy." Xal'Atath chuckled, using one of Harry's many diminutive names for the powerful aberration.
This time, she was faced with the twists and turns of Stormwind Castle during the assassination of King Llane. The hallways tried to turn themselves around on her and she was constantly assault by phantasms of the past, including Garona and King Llane, but it was as useless as ever. Yogg-Saron could not hide his core forever.
This time, she didn't bother with banter or insults. Deep darkness coalesced on her blade, extending it beyond the size of a greatsword fit for her current stature. The 'brain' of Yogg-Saron was nothing more than the oozing hatred and malice that the Void Lords had implanted into their parasites before hurling them across the cosmos. Her blade of True Dark plunged into it and Silenced it, turning it placid and calm as the Dark was meant to be.
Passion was the domain of the accursed Light, after all. It was unseemly for creatures of the Void to be so hateful.
Yogg-Saron's death rattle made the realm of madness shake and Xal'Atath was quick to flee. There might have been some merit in staying and absorbing what leftover power she could grasp, but she would rather not be tainted by its essence.
Emerging back in the physical world she saw that her current allies were just finishing off the dregs. The majority of them had survived, but the Titanic Watchers were down. Except for Freya, unfortunately. Her, they had managed to protect.
"As agreed, one dead Old God." Xal'Atath announced, giving a little bow towards Harry.
"And you couldn't have killed it sooner?" He asked sarcastically, pulling off his helmet to glare at her.
"I worked as fast as I could." She lied truthfully. All paths were equally valid to the Void, so all truths were lies and all lies were truths. Only the destination mattered.
"I'm sure." Harry was clearly not buying it, but that was fine.
XXXXX
With the Titanic Watchers distracted by their injured, Xal'Atath was easily able to slip away before anyone could comment on her existence. Harry followed suit, knowing exactly where to go.
In the no-man's land of Desolace, there was a pre-prepared ritual chamber carved out of the rock, because like hell was Harry going to run that ritual anywhere close to his home.
"Here we are, about to part ways." Xal'Atath said, smiling widely. "It has been fun, Harry. I know that you still have doubts, but I will make the multiverse better, you may see one day."
"Better is subjective, especially with the likes of you." He grumbled, making the final preparations for the ritual.
She shrugged and peered at the symbols, trying to decipher them. While she had seen much while touching his soul, the Arcane was too orderly and foreign to her. Its meanings and vagaries eluded her. Some things, however, she understood. "That does not seem like a very precise targeting array."
In fact, it was extremely vague.
"Because I'm not going to risk anything on the other side being able to backtrack the ritual." Harry retorted. "This will launch you through the space between dimensions in the approximately correct direction. It will be up to you to break through."
Xal'Atath stared at him, mulling over the words. It was straining the letter of their agreement to the breaking point, but Harry had absolutely refused to budge on the safety precautions. If he could do this, then he had deemed the risk of being noticed by the Chaos Gods to be too high to directly open a portal anywhere into that galaxy.
"You know that my essence is too diffuse to survive the in-between for more than moments." She countered. It was only the many mortal souls she had consumed that allowed her to survive for any length of time at all.
"The ritual will protect you long enough." He dismissed. "There should be more than enough misery in that universe to act as a beacon for you."
That was true enough, and the notion of not going was unacceptable. Xal'Atath knew that her destiny lay there and she could not be afraid.
"Very well." She smiled again. "Good luck with Azshara."