The dark passage into the deeper reaches of Icecrown loomed before them like the gullet of some great beast, prepared to swallow them whole and spit out only their unliving corpses.
"Stamina potions!" Fordring yelled out, his orcish counterpart Saurfang doing the same thing.
There was some grumbling about it being unnecessary from the more macho members of the assault, but they obeyed. Hellscream needed to be glared into obedience, and he drank the provided potion with an angry scowl, but he obeyed. The less crotchety members sighed happily as the potion took care of the ache building up in their muscles from hours of fighting.
Harry took the opportunity to amble over to Jaina and smiled at her smugly.
"How is the armor working for you?" He asked.
She looked up at him with exasperation. "It's great. Very comfortable."
There was a distinct lack of enthusiasm in her tone, but Harry was undeterred. "And just think, you could have had it ages ago if only you weren't so stubborn."
"Don't you ever get tired of acting childish?" The exasperation intensified.
"It's a hazard of eternal youth." Harry admitted. "I've found that there's really only a few ways you can go as you age. It's either crazy evil, bored indifference, or teasing the youngins'. I was in serious danger of falling into the second category at one point."
"Fascinating." Jaina's tone said it was anything but. "It's good to know that you admit to being crazy evil."
"Ouch, you wound me." Harry chuckled, putting his own helmet on. "Whatever happened to the polite young sorceress you used to be?"
"She got tired of dealing with an impolite old sorcerer."
"Gasp!" Harry gasped. "Who is this foul knave that soured my sweet innocent Jaina?"
"Surely, I wonder."
"You can't possibly mean me? I've adored you since the day we met!"
"I didn't say it was you."
"So there's another old sorcerer you're engaging with? Jaina, how could you betray me like this? I thought we had something special."
"It's special alright, a special kind of hell." She grumbled.
But Harry wasn't going to be fooled so easily. He knew that she was enjoying the banter. In fact, the entire reason he had approached her was because he knew that this was hard on her. The distraction from brooding over Arthas was doing her good.
"I'm special to you." He put a hand to his cheek like a bashful maiden. "It makes my heart go pitter-patter."
Jaina sighed, shook her head in exasperation and jammed her helmet back on. In response, Harry just chuckled and followed suit. They didn't have any more time to play around anyway.
"Helmets back on! We move in!" Saurfang roared, followed by a similarly firm command from Fordring.
They cautiously moved forward, nobody truly trusting the minor respite they were allowed. It was less than a hundred feet forward that the path forked, both passages looking utterly identical.
"Which way?" Fordring asked quietly.
Harry took a moment to focus before nodding firmly to the right. "Over there."
"How can you tell?" Drannosh Saurfang asked curiously.
"The Lich King is both the jailer and the prison holding countless souls in bondage." He answered, not taking his eyes off the walls, the floors and ceiling. It was only a matter of time before the traps showed up. "They call to me."
"We will set them all free, every single one of them. From Ner'Zhul to the very last victim to fall to the Scourge, none deserve this fate." Fordring spoke up once again, taking the opportunity to bolster motivation.
"I can think of one who deserves it." Sylvanas grumbled quietly.
Harry wanted to roll his eyes. The silly elf still hadn't gotten it through her thick skull that Arthas Menethil had been ejected from the driver's seat long before she'd ever met him. Ner'Zhul was more responsible for what happened to her and Quel'Thalas than Arthas, and the poor, dumb bastard of an orc had been duped into it as well. At this point, the Helm of Domination had taken on a 'life' of its own, once that was far more than either of its two wearers, whose souls were quite firmly trapped inside Frostmourne.
Well, whatever. Her hatred would serve its purpose, although just as he had warned her, she wouldn't be finding any satisfaction at the end of this road.
"Watch out for the vents." He called out, casting a quick spell to jam a block of ice into the nearly invisible hole in the wall. "They're designed to spew extremely cold mist at anyone who passes."
Yet another trick to wear them down. And yet another trick that the Discs of Norgannon helped subvert. Advanced knowledge was truly the greatest power. The Lich King must be fuming at having so many of his traps thwarted by now.
The hallways were a twisted maze, nigh impossible to navigate for invaders. The Scourge employed plenty enough wizards to make it disorienting and nonsensical, but the call of trapped souls could not be mistaken for anything else. Being so close, Harry could not be led astray.
It also helped that Azeroth herself would guide his way if he asked. As is, the sleeping Titan had the tiniest portion of her vast consciousness resting within his soul, silently approving of what they were doing. Ever since the Old Gods were destroyed, Azeroth was able to rest more easily, but there were still plenty of threats active upon her cradle. Only once they were dealt with could she truly relax and allow herself to sink into slumber.
They remained curiously unharried as they progressed, but nobody trusted it. After a small eternity of being on guard for the impending attack, they entered into a long hallway. One that was eerily familiar to certain members of the group.
"This looks like the approach to Lordaeron's royal throne chamber." Jaina noted with some undefinable emotion. "Or a twisted reflection of it at least."
"I dunnae know if that's good or bad." Muradin Bronzebeard harrumphed. "Is there something of Arthas still alive inside the Lich King, or is this just a cruel mockery?"
"It doesn't matter, our goal is the same either way." Harry shook his head, not wanting them to get caught up in irrelevant details.
They walked a bit further and received a bit of a surprise when they reached what would have been Lordaeron's throne room. A grim altar with a familiar blade floating in the air above it.
"Is that… Frostmourne?" One of the paladins asked in shock. "But where is the Lich King?"
"He must be nearby." Fordring determined grimly, giving wary glances in all directions.
"Obviously, this is a trap." Harry rolled his eyes and strode towards the blade.
"Then why are ye walkin' right into it?!" Muradin hollered. No doubt he was experiencing some déjà vu with this situation.
"To see if I can break that sword before it's sprung. Just imagine how stupid that would make the Lich King feel."
"Do you think you can do that?" Sylvanas asked eagerly, rushing to walk at his side. Just behind her, a similarly eager Sally followed.
"Well, Frostmourne is holding a whole bunch of souls imprisoned." He said, stepping up to the altar. "It should be within my purview to set them free…"
He paid no attention to the rest of the group as they arranged themselves around the dais that held Frostmourne's altar, instead carefully reaching out to the blade with his mind and magic. It looked much like the sword he had made for his son back on Planetos, but only in the most superficial of ways. The true Frostmourne was vastly more powerful and ominous than that little toy.
As soon as he touched the blade, numerous souls swarmed towards him, straining against the edges of their prison. He tried to use his divine domain to set them free, but Frostmourne resisted his efforts.
"Aw, crap." He sighed. "I can't do it, not here."
"Really?" Luna spoke up, a little surprised. "It can resist your divine authority?"
"Yep, our earlier speculation was correct – the Lich King has been developing divinity of his own. I can't set these souls free until he's defeated."
"Exactly so, heroes." A voice that did not belong spoke up strongly, just before a spectral figure appeared next to Frostmourne.
"Uther?!" Multiple voices spoke up in shock. "Uther the Lightbringer?"
"Well now, aren't you a strong one?" Harry murmured rhetorically. "To be able to manifest your soul like this, you must be driven by a powerful purpose."
"I come to warn you." Uther nodded, a serious look on his transparent face. "As you have surmised, this is a trap. The Lich King left Frostmourne here to lure you in and he is on his way as we speak."
"Good." Sylvanas said darkly, fingering her special arrow. "Let him come and be destroyed."
"It will not be so easy." Uther warned. "His power has grown vast and is no longer limited to his body. Even should you destroy his physical form, the Lich King's spirit will endure."
"Oooh, I know this one!" Luna piped up excitedly. "We have to destroy his sword and helmet, right? That's how it was with Sauron."
"Frostmourne is a powerful and vile weapon, but it is the Helm of Domination that is the true source of the Lich King's power." Uther replied, unperturbed by her tone deaf cheer. "Destroying it, however, may do more harm than good even if you find a way. With nothing to hold them back, the hordes of the undead Scourge would run wild across the world."
"Then… there must always be a Lich King." Tirion Fordring concluded grimly. He was obviously already planning to be the one to sacrifice himself.
"Yeah, no. That's dumb."
Everyone paused to look at him, including the ghost of Uther.
"What, you think a bunch of mindless undead and whatever idiots still have their free will is an insurmountable threat?" Harry asked rhetorically. "Uther, I'm sure you were a great paladin, but what makes you think you know what the hell you're talking about? I, being the only qualified necromancer present, will be the one to decide the proper course of action."
Why was everyone looking at him like he'd just taken a piss in the middle of a church? Being dead did not make Uther an expert on the subject matter! Well, not everyone. Jaina just sighed tiredly and Hellscream probably had his default resting bitch face on under his helmet.
"And what would you have us do?" Varok Saurfang asked, not quite demandingly. He was clearly eager to hear a potential solution to the conundrum.
"Well, first we have to deal with that guy." Harry waved his hand towards the entrance, just as the ominous form of the Lich King stepped out of the darkness. He was flanked by two death knights, whom Harry knew to be former Lordaeron captains from Arthas' campaign in Northrend, Falric and Marwyn.
Shit, that armor is so cool. I'm still salty that I never got the chance to remake it.
Uther disappeared and Forstmourne flew off its altar to land hilt-first in its owner's hand. The runes engraved into it lit up with a cold blue light as the Lich King pointed his sword at them.
"Only death's cold embrace awaits you." He rattled, the hollow, necromantic rasp of his voice bearing a faint satisfaction. "You all will serve the Scourge."
Harry liked to think that he took offense at being referred to as 'that guy'.
All around them, ghosts, specters, and wraiths of Lordaeron's people and soldiers rose, prepared to tear the life from their bodies. There were so many, and they were made powerful by the Lich King's presence.
There was a moment of stillness and then battle was joined.
As had become the norm in this fight, Hellscream started it by charging in alongside his hotheaded followers. His charge towards the Lich King was intercepted by the two death knights. Following closely behind came Tirion Fordring, Alexandros Mograine, Arko, and Colette. All four wielded powerful greatswords and would do a good job of keeping the strongest of their enemies fully occupied.
Harry knew this to be a bad situation, but he also knew that it was not the end. It lacked symmetry and gravitas. Fate would conspire to end things at the very top of Icecrown Spire, at the Frozen Throne, where the paths of Ner'Zhul and Arthas Menethil ended, and where the Lich King and the Undead Scourge began. This was merely a skirmish to further wear out and weaken then before retreating. Of course, that didn't mean that their survival was guaranteed, merely that the definite battle would not yet take place as long as they gave it their all.
That being said, they could not afford to lose people or momentum. It was time to use one of their big trump cards. They were now deep enough in Icecrown Citadel to make full use of it.
"Luna, do the thing!" He called out and turned his attention to the army of tormented ghosts rushing at them.
Swarming enemies with ghosts from all directions was a common Scourge tactic, and thus needed a counter. Usually, that counter boiled down to priests spamming holy explosions to keep them at bay and hurt them, but that also took them away from their critical support roles.
Harry couldn't have that, especially as Luna would be completely unable to defend herself soon.
"Net of Amyntok." He intoned, having shamelessly stolen yet another idea from elsewhere.
A golden web radiated from him in a dome, passing harmlessly through the living. When it hit the undead however, it stuck to them like glue. The spirits, lacking any physical strength, were carried over to the walls in thick clumps. The net stuck to the walls as well, preventing any more ghosts from entering the room.
The net also stuck to the Lich King and his death knight escort, but they were not particularly inconvenienced. The Net of Amyntok was a manifestation of spirit, and not very good at blocking physical motion. But no matter, it did its job in keeping the ghosts from harassing them.
Just as Luna planted her staff firmly in the ground and began to glow.
XXXXX
For Luna, time seemed to have frozen. There was only her and Big Sis.
"Are you certain you wish to do this?" Elune asked. "There is a reason that I speak through my high priestess only in dire need. To offer your body as my avatar will leave its mark on you forever."
But Luna only smiled brightly. "Everything we do leaves its mark on us. You're a good person, so I don't mind being a little bit more like you. Besides, we're not so different to begin with."
"Your wisdom and courage do you credit." Elune smiled back, reaching forward to embrace her priestess. "As I will be part of you, you will be part of me. It will be my honor to aid you in your righteous task."
Luna did not resist as she felt the divine essence pour into her and mingle with the remnant of her own divinity. It was different, yet similar enough that there was no rejection.
Time began to move again, but she was much changed. Her eyes blazed brightly with divine power and her armored for was superimposed by the image of a naked night elven woman of surpassing beauty. An instant later, a wave of holy power blasted out of her. The tormented spirits of Lordaeron's people were instantly purified, the two death knights were launched into the walls and even the Lich King staggered.
"Fight on, champions." The incarnated goddess spoke. "Elune stands with you."
Arko and Jessir were the only two night elves in the group, their people generally being better at tasks other than direct assault, so the religious awe was not overwhelming. Everyone did feel themselves become filled with seemingly unlimited strength, however, and they were experienced enough to not waste a moment of it.
The paladins and warriors, previously having fought together against the Lich King cautiously, not daring to overextend in fear of Frostmourne's bite, now attacked with vigor. Those, like Hellscream, who had been engaged against Falric and Marwyn, fell upon them with a fury. The mages and priests that had done their best to counter the enemy's spells tossed all restraint aside and let loose with their most powerful spells.
Among the few archers, Sylvanas Windrunner, whom had been frozen with fear since the Lich King's arrival, seethed with fury at her own weakness. The fear was a natural instinct of any living creature when faced with the source of their past suffering who may inflict it upon them again, but she didn't care. The indignity of being forced to feel fear of the one she hated more than anything in the world was too much.
The former Banshee Queen drew her special arrow and loosed it at the Lich King.
XXXXX
A trump card was meant to be used in only two circumstances – either to guarantee victory or to pull a reverse on the enemy. The trick was in making sure that your enemy's trump card didn't trump your trump card, or that you didn't hesitate for so long that you missed your opportunity.
The undead were eternally patient as a factor of their condition, as well as immune to panic. Tricking the Lich King into overextending was always going to be difficult. Not impossible however, because being undead did not liberate one of the flaw of arrogance, and there was only so much attrition one could suffer before deciding that going all in would be better.
Having your foes trapped in a dead end that was wide enough to still make use of your superior numbers was a good a place as any.
Just as Planned.
The emergence of the Avatar of Elune had obviously come as a nasty surprise for the Lich King. Worse still, it had shocked Sylvanas out of her petrified fear.
That bit had not been planned, but in hindsight it should have been factored in. The undead didn't have a survival instinct and Sylvanas already knew that there were things far worse than death. Of course coming face to face with the source of her nightmares would make her freeze up.
But they got lucky. Elune's presence soothed all fears and her wrathful aspect stoked the former Banshee Queen's thirst for revenge. The special arrow was loosed while the window of opportunity was still open.
The Lich King's scream of pain must have reverberated across all of Icecrown as the golden arrow forged of hate punched through his armor and punctured his gut. It wasn't a fatal wound, of course, but Sylvanas' hatred would have a powerful corrosive effect.
The sight of their foe injured further emboldened everyone and they fought like madmen, hacking and slashing at the hordes of undead that poured into Frostmourne's chamber. They were unable to reach the Lich King as his minions carried him off, but that was to be expected. The final battle was not yet upon them.
But with a goddess infinitely restoring their strength, they could act like it.
"YES! BURN! BURN! BURN! AHAHAHA!" Sally cackled maniacally, using Light's Wrath to call upon endless pillars of blazing Light to incinerate the hordes of undead trying to overwhelm them.
While she was definitely the most enthusiastic, everyone else was also giving it their all. Alexandros Mograine was using the Ashbringer to do his signature thing, Hellscream was yelling like Doomguy with a Berserk power up as he swung his axe in all directions, the Saurfang duo were only slightly more restrained, Jaina was freezing entire swaths of enemies to the bone and then shattering them with powerful arcane explosions, Arko and Jessir, with their goddess so close, were drawing on more power than they had ever managed, even Colette was channeling more Void energies than normal.
Harry had something other than unrestrained attack in mind. While he hadn't known the exact location or form that the Lich King's trap would take, he knew that as soon as Elune was manifested, they would be on a timer. They needed mobility on top of destructive power.
He had prepared a spell for just this purpose, one that would be far too costly to cast without a goddess fronting the cost. Sinking the blade of his staff into the ground, he began to chant.
"Gold! Gold! Gold! GOLD! Bright and yellow, hard and cold!!"
The ground melted, the corpses melted, everything melted and transmuted to gold. It flow under their feet and solidified, creating a wide platform that would have many a goblin salivating to steal. Some of the fighters jumped away from the spectacle, but he had warned them that he would be doing something like this and what they were to do.
"Get on the platform!" Fordring yelled.
"Hellscream, get back here!" Saurfang added his own bellow to the din, as the son of the most problematic of orcs had lost himself in a battle rage against the undead.
Somewhat predictably, Garrosh either did not listen or hear, so he kept fighting even while everyone else obeyed the order.
Harry was still chanting.
"Molten, graven, hammered, rolled! Glorious and heavy, the tide unfold!"
The excess gold swelled behind and under the platform, lifting it up and then carrying it forward. Jaina and Eluna yoinked and stragglers that hadn't boarded it yet, Hellscream being the most noteworthy one.
They rapidly picked up speed, surfing on a tide of gold. Any undead that got swallowed up in it were rapidly transmuted, melted and added to the mass. Harry used his staff as a rudder to direct them through the hallways, paying little heed to everyone else capable of ranged attacks blasting the undead on the way while the melee fighters kept anything from dislodging them.
"Sharp turn ahead!" Jaina called out in alarm. "We're going too fast! Slow down!"
Oh, was she not good with speed? Surprising.
"Can't do that." Harry calmly denied, adding on ever more speed. "Elune can only be with us for a short amount of time, so we have to get as much use out of her as we can."
Nobody could reply for a moment, because the golden tide 'splashed' against the corner hard enough to leave splotches of liquid gold all the way up to the ceiling. The platform itself went nearly vertical, but nobody fell off as it boinged away, corrected itself and they continued surfing on, barely losing speed. He wasn't quite sure where he was going, simply following the hunches provided by Azeroth.
"Harry, please don't blaspheme against my goddess!" Arko yelled over the rush of wind and the startled screams of those with weaker nerves.
"The only thing I regret is not having time to bed her before the possession runs out." Harry blasphemed shamelessly. "Hmm, I wonder if I could give Cenarious a younger sibling?"
"Are you trying to get smited?" Jessir asked incredulously. Much like Jaina, she was also looking as tense as a cat on a tall tree.
"I would not smite him for such a thing." Elune weighed in. "And it is an intriguing question. I have never lain with a man of flesh and blood while possessing a priestess."
"Please don't encourage him, Lady Goddess." Jaina requested.
"Too late, I'm encouraged." Harry smugged. "And I think that Luna's desire for babies might be shining through."
"I believe that you are correct." The goddess nodded. "The impulses of the flesh are more compelling that I had realized."
"We approach the central Spire!" Saurfang broke in, undoubtedly annoyed by the conversation.
Icecrown Spire was a thick pillar of ice around which Icecrown Citadel had been built. At the top stood the Frozen Throne, but the approach was blocked by the typical irritating method of sealing wards anchored to powerful lieutenants. Sindragosa, Blood Queen Lana'thel, and Professor Putricide would have to die before the Lich King could be fought again. Bone Daddy would undoubtedly sacrifice them to buy time to remove Sylvanas' arrow and recover as much of his strength as he could before they reached him.
And speaking of Sylvanas…
Harry glanced over at the oddly quiet and subdued elf. It was hard to be sure under the armor, but she looked lost in thought, or simply distracted. Well, he had warned her that firing that arrow would come with a cost. That was the problem of investing so much of yourself into revenge, especially when magic could make it a literal investment.
Putting the though aside, he poured on more speed, taking a good deal of amusement in the tense crouches some people went into. As if a simple enchantment to keep them from falling off was beyond him. Still, nobody slacked off and they continued blasting magic at any undead trying to come at them. The tide of gold flowed over reanimated frost vrykul soldiers trying to get in their way, transmuting them. The wave of molten gold was starting to look a bit chunky from all the magical weapons and armors floating around in it, which were more resilient than their users.
Elune whooped gleefully as they took another sharp corner at what had to be somewhere between two hundred and three hundred kilometers per hour. More than a few people looked at her in shock at the undignified sound.
"What?" The goddess asked defensively. "This is fun."
Heh, she wasn't trying to suppress Luna at all, which was as expected. Harry never would have okayed a divine possession if Elune was the sort of deity to do that.
"We're coming up on Sindragosa soon." Harry warned. "We destroy her in a single pass, so clench your buttcheeks and prepare your most powerful attacks."
Frostwing Halls was where the Scourge reanimated new frostwyrms and stripped the scales and flesh from captured dragons. Thanks to the Discs of Norgannon, it had been a while since the Scourge had successfully been able to get their hands on any new dragons, living or dead.
They burst into Sindragosa's chamber at speed and didn't brake in the slightest. Mages and clerics blasted her with long range attacks, while the more reckless melee fighters jumped on top of her and began hacking away.
Harry was too busy controlling the flood of gold to contribute, but he made sure that a good bit of it splashed against the powerful frostwyrm as they passed. He ignored the shouts of the chickens among them and aimed directly at the opposite wall.
A small pull on his staff made the platform slow and the tide of gold to get ahead, allowing it to crash into the wall first. Then he poured on the speed again, riding it up the wall. A big, golden overhang formed, just as it would with waves on the ocean. Harry put all his will into forcing more and more gold up the wall, until the wave of gold hung ominously over the beleaguered Sindragosa.
Just as planned, Elune yoinked anyone that had jumped on the frostwyrm back to the platform moments before the heavy wave of gold crashed down upon her. Weakened by the spells and weapons that had hammered her, Sindragosa was smashed into the ground and began dissolving into gold.
Hellscream and the other orcs roared in victory, pumping their axes into the air. The permanently belligerent orc even gave him a hard clap on the shoulder in his enthusiasm.
"That. Was. Glorious!" He roared, apparently forgetting who he was talking to in his enthusiasm.
"At least someone is having a good time." Harry replied drily, giving a sideways glance to Jaina and Jessir, who were decidedly unappreciative of how awesome their maneuver had been.
That was when Hellscream remembered that he hated him and had a 180° mood swing, turning away like an embarrassed schoolgirl.
"You're such a tsundere." Harry snorted.
Elune giggled, being the only one who knew what that was.
"What is a tsundere?!" Hellscream demanded, doing his best to loom threateningly. "Are you insulting me again?"
"Oh dear, look at that, we're coming up on the Crimson Hall." He deflected as they arrived back in the main chamber and sped towards the den of vampires. Some of the gold spilled down into the abyss around Icecrown Spire.
"Focus!" Saurfang preemptively reprimanded Hellscream. "We are making good time, but we cannot allow these leeches to slow us. Do not underestimate them!"
"No need to worry, this is a bad match up for them." Harry smiled maliciously. "Heavy metal poisoning is a bitch."
They crashed into the semi-prepared lines of darkfallen mages and san'layn minions. Blood sorcery assaulted them, but failed to overcome the defensive spells of the clerics and mages. And then there was gold. Gold corrupted the blood and rendered it unusable for their magics, gold devoured their flesh and turned it metal.
"You made a mistake coming here, invaders!" A female voice hissed, but to Harry the tone sounded forced. "You will know my hunger!"
There was no point in bantering back. Harry simply directed the flood of gold to fill up the Crimson Hall, drowning every darkfallen in the way. The Blood Prince Council and Lana'Thel were in sight, all preparing their blood sorceries.
Sally and Jaina both made shouts of efforts as they directed powerful disruption magics at the edgy vampires. All the other casters focused on defense. The melee fighters among them anxiously gripped their weapons, but did nothing. There was nothing for them to do.
The tide of gold slammed into them inexorably, shattering whatever spells Lana'Thel and he minions had tried to put up. They were swept away with a scream, leaving crimson puddles in the molten gold. Then even that disappeared as they were transmuted.
"It seems that gold is thicker than blood." Harry chuckled at his own joke as he surfed across the curved wall and turned back. There was one more anchor-holder to destroy.
He poured on as much speed as he could, racing towards the Plagueworks, where the Scourge concocted its diseases and mutagens. This wing of the Citadel was perhaps the least organized, being infested with shambling zombies and abominations. They crashed through it with as little ceremony as they did Frostwing Halls and the Crimson Court, transmuting everything they ran across.
"My time runs short." Elune warned. "I dare not risk possessing Luna for much longer."
Well, that was unfortunate, but that was why they had gone about things in the order they had. Sindragosa and the san'layn would have been much harder to deal with that Professor Putricide and his creations. The 'good doctor' wasn't even a combatant.
Instead of verbally acknowledging the goddess' warning, Harry made use of one final spell that would have been too costly without her.
"Gehenna's Golden Hounds." He intoned, sinking his will into the mass of gold and imbuing it with the feral spirit of the wolf, then shaping the gold into an appropriate form.
Fangs, claws and bristling fur took shape from the molten gold, rushing out with metallic howls and charging into the undead to rip and tear. Each of the wolves was huge, eight feet tall at the shoulder, and weighed over twenty tons.
They were not impressed by walking corpses or the clouds of plague spores that infested this wing of Icecrown Citadel. The large pack of them quickly rampaged out of sight until only the soungs of gurgling metallic snarling and fleshy gurgling reached them.
Harry created as many golden wolves as he could out of the mass of gold, letting the remainder splat and harden against the ground. Behind them, a small mountain of rune-carved weapons and armor was piled, all that remained of the many undead transmuted into gold.
"I wish you good fortune in your battle against the Lich King, heroes." Elune said, her superimposed image over Luna already fading. "Know that I am watching."
And then she was gone, Luna immediately collapsing. She would have fallen to the ground if Arko and Jessir hadn't been ready to catch her.
"Wooo, I'm pooped." She said gustily, sitting down on the ground.
"Get some rest, then. You've done enough." Harry said, having known that she wouldn't be in any shape to continue fighting. Possession took a lot out of a person. "Arko, stay and guard her."
"Got it." The moonlight paladin nodded firmly.
Saurfang volunteered a couple of orcs as well, including his son, and Fordring assigned another paladin. The rest of them pressed on, following the trail of devastation left behind by the golden wolves.
Harry would not have been surprised if they had done the entire job themselves, given that the opposition didn't have much that could deal with them, but it turned out to not be the case. They found Professor Putricide in his laboratory, which was looking more than a little wrecked, handing out mops to laborer zombies.
What they were mopping were watery golden puddles that had a faint green tinge to them. Of the professor's largest creations, Rotface and Festergut, only shredded flesh remained. From his talks with Archaedas, Harry knew that Rotface in particular had been stuffed full of corrosive oozes, which was probably what had melted the wolves. Festergut, with its plagues and spores, would have been largely useless.
The somewhat bizarre scene made the group pause, which gave the undead alchemist time to notice them. He pointed a bony finger in their direction and spoke in an aggrieved tone. "You! Do you have any idea what you've done?! How am I supposed to work in these conditions?!"
His question was answered by a holy moonlight arrow obliterating his head, making the peculiar man's re-killed corpse collapse to the ground immediately.
"What?" Jessir asked defensively when everyone turned to look at her for this egregious breach of pre-battle banter protocol. "We're in a hurry, aren't we?"
"Right you are." Fordring nodded firmly. "Back to the Spire. It is time we gave the Lich King a long overdue reckoning."
XXXXX
Much of Icecrown Citadel's denizens had been disposed of by the golden surfing experience, the rest of the Scourge trapped outside for the moment. That left the place creepily empty and nobody trusted it to be safe.
Luna was still too exhausted to fight on and there was no way to take a breather, so she was assigned a guard while the rest of them went up to the peak of Icecrown Spire, to the Frozen Throne. Harry had quietly asked Sylvanas if she wanted to stay behind as well.
Normally, that would have made the prickly elf furious. Now, she just dully insisted on going, driven only by a vague desire to see it through to the end.
The climb up the icy stairs was made in oppressive silence. All of them knew that if the Lich King wanted to, then he could confront them on the actual steps, where he could force a sequence of one on one battles on the narrow and slippery stairs. But they all knew deep in their bones that it wouldn't go like that. Azeroth was too dramatic for the Lich King to do anything except wait for them, sitting on the Frozen Throne.
And that was exactly what happened. One by one they reached the summit, with the Lich King silently sitting upon his throne and waiting for them to arrive. Sylvanas' golden arrow had been removed, but there was still a hole in his armor where it had punched through.
There were not many of them. The top of Icecrown Spire was too small to accommodate more than a handful of people, so they had to be selective about who would be part of the final battle.
Harry and Jaina were there for the power of their magic. Alexandros Mograine had loaned the Ashbringer to Tirion Fordring and entrusted him with the task of avenging the Silver Hand. Varok Saurfang had ordered his son to stay below, probably still hoping for an honorable death, but wanting his son to live on. Hellscream wouldn't be kept away for any reason. Colette had a score to settle with the Scourge and was also the only dedicated priestess of the Void, which would give their group more variety. Muradin Bronzebeard also had a grudge to settle and Arthas had been his friend once. Sylvanas rounded things out as an archer, and Sally Whitemane was there for reasons beyond just the power of her Light magic. Arko and Jessir stayed below with Luna, not feeling comfortable entrusting her protection to outsiders alone.
Even with just nine of them, not counting their foe, and only five of those being melee fighters, they would have some trouble not getting in each other's way. Icecrown Spire wasn't exactly cramped, but it would not allow for a lot of maneuvering. The fact that it was a fledgling divine realm further complicated things.
The lich king stood and began to take slow, ominous steps down the dais that held the Frozen Throne. Very dramatic. "So, the Light's vaunted justice finally arrives? Shall I lay down Frostmourne and throw myself at your mercy, Fordring?"
"We will grant you a swift death." Tirion said, knowing full well that he was being mocked and ignoring it.
the Lich King ignored him in turn and raked his gaze over Muradin, Sylvanas, Colette and Sally. "Or is it vengeance? Do your hearts still burn with outrage?"
That last one seemed especially pointed towards Sylvanas, whose reaction was uncharacteristically dull to anyone who knew her.
"How was the little prick we gave you earlier?" Colette taunted in a teasing tone of voice, though there was a hard edge under it. He Voidblade was pointed at him. "There's plenty more where that came from."
"You will burn." Sally declared with utter relish. She sounded almost aroused at the thought of it.
"Hmph." The Lich king made a noise of contempt and turned towards Saurfang. "An old warrior seeking release from his guilt. You will not find it here. After you are dead and raised, I will have you finish what you started."
Saurfang visibly flinched. Beside him, Hellscream bristled. Whether it was at what was said or at not being addressed himself was anyone's guess.
The master of the Scourge turned to Jaina. "My old companion. You could have been the Lich Queen, now you will be a slave."
"You are not Arthas." Jaina retorted stiffly. "Whatever is left of him is trapped inside that sword."
"Did he tell you that?" The Lich King mocked, nodding towards Harry. "What does this outsider, who usurps what was never meant to be his and meddles where he is not wanted, know?"
"Yes, what do I know?" Harry drawled tauntingly. "Been having a lot of your plans fail recently? Foresight not working quite right? Unexpected surprises catching you off guard?"
The Lich King was a farsighted being with a vast consciousness, but his very nature robbed his plans of subtlety. It had been easy to use the Discs of Norgannon to foil him at every turn. This final confrontation was in truth the only genuinely dangerous part of the war against the Undead Scourge. The fact that the Lich King was salty about his meddling just confirmed it.
"I hear that you cannot be bound to another's will." The Lich King stated chillingly. "If that is so, then you will serve as a warning to all who would oppose me. Your screams will herald the coming of the Undead Scourge."
"How original, truly a threat that no would-be villain has ever used." Harry replied drily, gripping his bladestaff. He sensed that the banter was almost over.
And so it was. As had become the norm, Hellscream started things as soon as the Lich King made the slightest move to advance, rushing into the fight. Gorehowl was parried with one hand holding Frostmourne, while the other glowed with dark magic.
The Lich King disengaged when the others closed in to attack him, but Hellscream stumbled back with necromantic Void magic eating at him. Sally was quick to purge him with her violent take on the Light, burning it out of him. Hellscream didn't enjoy that, but he'd live.
Harry launched a small, sticky orb of flame at the Lich King's face while he was distracted fending off Fordring and Colette. The tiny fireball didn't burn especially hot, but it acted like napalm and was extremely persistent. More importantly, it was as sticky as it looked and its intention was to block vision.
The Lich King saw it coming and cleaved the spell in half, leaving it to dissipate in freezing wisps. An Arcane spell from Jaina was similarly blocked and an arrow from Sylvanas dodged. The melee fighters closed in again, none daring to be too aggressive against Frostmourne's deadly edge, but all of them working together to keep the Lich King occupied.
A burst of ravenous plague winds was ignored, the armor being completely sealed and warded against such insidious attacks. The localized blizzard that followed it up was much more problematic.
The Lich King had no intention of making things easy.
XXXXX
Sylvanas kept an arrow nocked and drawn, but her heart wasn't in it. Ever since she had used the special arrow Harry had forged out of her hatred, everything seemed so dull and pointless. The only reason that she was even able to force herself to keep fighting was centuries of ingrained military discipline that would not allow her to simply quit.
There was no satisfaction at the memory of the Lich King screaming in pain as she hit him, nor in seeing that he still favored that side of his body. Just as Harry had warned her that there wouldn't be.
It didn't matter. Spotting an opening in the chaotic melee, she loosed the arrow, aiming for the throat. The Lich King saw it coming, but could not parry, so he instead turned just enough to block it with his pauldron. The spellforged arrow, imbued with powerful magics to enhance its piercing power and blessed with properties to harm the undead, sank into the Plate of the Damned, but did not reach the profane flesh below.
With a burst of chilling winds to stagger everyone, the Lich King extended a grasping hand towards Sylvanas, already flying with Frostmourne pointed forward.
The Former Banshee Queen felt herself freeze up in the spiritual grip, unable to move. She recognized this pull on her soul, it was what had killed her the first time. Fear clouded her mind at the thought of being enslaved by the Scourge again.
At the last moment, a familiar bladed staff slammed point first into the flat side of Frostmourne, knocking it off course.
"Denied." Harry taunted with a grunt, badly overextended. He was holding Atiesh in a single hand at the very head of the staff and his footing was atrocious. A child could knock him over with how off balance he was.
Still, he had successfully prevented the Lich King from killing her.
The master of the Scourge switched targets, swinging Frostmourne towards Harry. The annoying archmage let go of his bladestaff and threw himself backwards, the tip of the cursed runeblade screeching over his chest plate.
Had he been alone, the Lich King would only need to continue attacking while Harry was on the ground and it would be over. But he was not alone, and the perpetually enraged Hellscream rushed back in to engage him, giving him time to get up and recover his staff.
Sylvanas also got up from where she fell on her ass after the grip on her soul let up. She was still in this fight.
XXXXX
The fight so far had lasted for less than half a minute, but the shape of it was already clear. The Lich King was being kept mostly on the defensive, but a battle of attrition was one they would lose even if it didn't look like it. Jaina was struggling to keep the entire battlefield from being engulfed in a blizzard and Harry was struggling to contain Frostmourne's ravenous hunger for souls. Only the fact that his own divine domain was in direct opposition to the runeblade's magic was allowing him to do so. Despite attacking together, the melee combatants were not used to working as a team and it was hampering them.
Ner'zhul had been a shaman, but also an orc. He had been no slouch in a fight by default. Arthas had not been counted among the best warriors to have ever lived, but he had been no slouch either. Certainly he had been good enough as a death knight to get the better of the half-demonic Illidan Stormrage, a powerful sorcerer and cunning warrior.
He was not going to make a stupid mistake, he would have to be baited into it. Their loss would come from a grinding slog of failed strength, and their win would come from a quick and brutal pileup.
Harry had known that Sylvanas was the weak link among them. With her soul weakened now that all her hatred had been fired at the Lich King, she was the easiest target. The Lich King had gone after her at the first opportunity.
Harry had been waiting for it and taken the chance to counter-attack. Not the Lich King, but Frostmourne. The others were trying to strike the wielder, but Harry's target was the runeblade.
When Atiesh had struck the blade, the resonance between them had howled with the anguish of thousands of trapped souls. Souls that wanted to be free. He would give it to them, even if he had to sacrifice some of his current companions. As far as he was concerned, only Colette, Sally, and Jaina were not expendable.
Colette because she was his wife, Jaina because she was a friend, and Sally because he still needed her.
After he got back on his feet, the previous stalemate did not continue. The Lich King instead summoned reinforcements in the form of Val'kyr.
Aside from the incredibly obvious Norse mythology reference Azeroth was somehow making via interdimensional bullshit of some sort, these creatures were quite fearsome and part of the reason why the Scourge had been able to gather so many souls. According to Archaedas, Prime Designate Odyn had uplifted numerous female vrykul to bring valiant souls to his Halls of Valor because he didn't believe that the Dragon Aspects could be trusted to serve as protectors.
Funny how they both fucked up.
The Val'kyr immediately made a problem of themselves by swooping in and trying to fling people off Icecrown Spire. There was no need to issue orders as the people best suited to the job switched over to pest control. Sylvanas started sniping and Sally started purging. Even Saurfang, being the more tactical of the two orcs present, realized that his axe was better suited to swatting the flying menaces than crowding the Lich King.
This was a bit of a sticky situation. The Val'kyr were a dangerous distraction, and if they went after him or Jaina then the Lich King would have a much freer hand with his powers over ice and death. Someone was definitely going to die soon if nothing was done, and then things would turn further against them.
Harry decided to put his thumb on the scale.
Waiting a moment it looked like Hellscream was about to take another swing at their common enemy, he shouted out. "Back up! I've got this!"
The beautifully predictable and contrary meathead, about to commit to his favorite activity and disdainful of non-orcs, ignored the order. In fact, he just attacked harder. Perfect.
Harry stopped radiating his divine aura and instead quickly conjured up a Light-infused bolt of chain lightning. The golden-tinged energy jumped from one Val'kyr to another, quickly frying them and sending them plummeting down. Some of them might survive, but it didn't matter.
The short distraction had been costly. Hit by the full force of Frostmourne's soul-siphon, Hellscream had stumbled. The others had listened to his words and backed off, leaving nobody to help him as the Lich King brutally took advantage of the opening and rammed Frostmourne through his chest.
Shouts of dismay came from Fordring and Varok, one being far too much of a goody two-shoes and the other no doubt upset at having yet another young warrior die before him.
Not that Hellscream was quite dead yet. He might be an angry brute, but he was strong-willed and stubborn and wasn't going to die that easily. Left with nothing else to do, the big orc gave the Lich King a bear hug, pushing Frostmourne all the way through his body and trapping both it and its wielder in place.
Harry could not believe his luck. This was even better than he'd hoped for. Instead of getting rid of a future problem and maybe creating enough of an opening to get in a decisive hit that they could further capitalize on later, Hellscream was completely immobilizing the Lich king.
"GET HIM!" It was hard to say who roared the words, but they were all on the same page.
Sylvanas' arrow got there first, slipping right into the gap between the Helm of Domination and the Plate of the Damned.
Colette Blinked forward in a poof of shadow, her Voidblade shining darkly, and rammed the greatsword into the Lich King's back. It sank down to the hilt and the tip of it pierced through both him and Hellscream. Good girl, properly ruthless that.
Muradin had been too far to get in a hit and there were too many people in the way to charge, so he just hurled his hammer over Colette's head. It clanged against the Helm of Domination and forced the Lich King's head forward into an unintentional headbutt to Hellscream. That was actually kind of funny.
Harry had already started flaring his divine aura again, doing his best to suppress Frostmourne for the final act. With the Lich King weakened and immobilized, this was the perfect opportunity.
"FORDRING, THE SWORD!" He shouted urgently, Blinking to the other side and already spinning his bladestaff. The bladed end struck Frostmourne from below and he focused all his will on breaking the evil sword's concept. It further carved up Hellscream, but that wasn't important.
"Light give me strength!" The elderly paladin couldn't be called slow on the uptake and immediately understood what he wanted. Swinging the Ashbringer in a powerful overhead blow, Fordring struck Frostmourne across the middle with a shout of effort, blazing with Light.
The runeblade shattered under the combined assault, blasting everyone away as a spiritual vortex erupted. The scrape of the Helm of Domination sliding across the icy ground was louder than it should be, as was the tinkling of Frostmourne's broken shards. The thousands of trapped souls escaped the blade, most floating up and away. Some, however, stayed close.
They all picked themselves up and made a circle around the fallen Lich King and the nearly dead Hellscream, just as the ghosts of Terenas Menethil and Uther the Lightbringer manifested. A flickering soul wisp slipped into Arthas's body and the eldritch blue glow faded from his eyes, reverting back to his natural green eyes.
"F-father?" The now former Lich King gasped in confusion, grabbing at the semi-solid ghost of Terenas. "Is it… over?"
"A long last." Terenas confirmed. "No king rules forever, my son."
"I see… only darkness… before me." Arthas managed to dazedly reply before slumping over in true death.
Harry bit his tongue to keep from ruining the solemnity of the moment with a pithy comment. It was definitely not the time.
"You were right, Harry." Jaina said in a low, sad tone. "It really wasn't him all this time. At least he died free."
"I've wanted this for so long, yet now I feel nothing." Sylvanas mumbled. Shaking her head, she turned around and started walking back down.
Harry suspected that she would put down her bow soon and never again find the will to pick it up. Probably for the best. Sylvanas had issues.
Varok spoke up then, lifting up his fellow orc's rather mangled body. "I will take Hellscream back to Orgrimmar, so that he may be buried with honors befitting a hero."
"Can he not be brought back to life?" Jaina immediately asked.
It made Harry want to drop his helmeted head in his hands and groan. He knew that she knew that Hellscream was trouble, but she still had to ask awkward questions instead of pretending that resurrection was not an option.
"Maybe." He conceded, hiding his irritation. "The weapons and forces that slew him were powerful, which always complicates resurrection magic, but Luna might be able to do it. I'm not sure it's a good idea, though."
"Why not?" She asked. Varok was also looking at him intensely, waiting for his answer.
Having already decided to be honest, Harry shrugged. "This is a fitting end for his story. Garrosh Hellscream dies fighting a threat to Azeroth, finishing his father's redemption. This way he gets to be remembered as a hero. If we brought him back… well, he's ill-tempered, short-sighted, bloodthirsty, and has very skewed notions of honor. With the prestige he gained during this war, he would be a big name among the Horde, if he doesn't become Warchief outright. He is guaranteed to cause problems and tarnish his name."
Jaina looked like she wanted to protest for a moment, but she had met Hellscream. Varok just looked contemplative for a moment before nodding and silently making for the stairs, his decision clearly made. No resurrection would be offered to Garrosh Hellscream.
Harry felt no shame in exploiting the orcish, and particularly Varok's, desire for an honorable death to get his way.
Seeing that no one else was going to speak up, Uther addressed the group. "A great victory was won this day, but it is not the end. The undead hordes are still vast and will now rampage out of control. Archmage, you declared yourself to be the only one qualified to decide what is to be done. If one of you is not to take up the mantle of the Lich King, then what do you propose?"
"Without Frostmourne sucking out the soul of whoever touches it, donning the Helm of Domination would simply result in merging the wearer's soul with the nascent divinity known as 'The Lich King, God of Undeath'." Harry explained. "It would, by all means, be an improvement over what we had to deal with up to now, but the solution would be temporary. In a few decades at the most, the Undead Scourge would once again try to consume Azeroth."
"It will be much worse if another undead or unscrupulous character were to don the Helm." Uther pointed out. "And there is no telling what will happen if it is destroyed."
"We have a unique opportunity here." Harry said, putting all the gravitas he could muster into his tone. "This is the place where the Lich King rose and now where he fell. This is the place where the Scourge rose, and where it can be made to fall. Everyone except Sally should leave, we have planned for this."
The former High Inquisitor was almost vibrating with eagerness, as if her every desire was about to be granted.
"What are you going to do?" Jaina asked, a note of suspicion in her tone.
Harry took off his helmet and gave her a winning smile. "Just trust me, everything will turn out fine."
XXXXX
"I shouldn't have trusted him." Jaina fretted. "Why did I trust him?"
Luna blinked away the exhaustion and squinted in the blonde mage's direction. "It's fine. When Harry is refusing to elaborate it means that he's going to do something that people would object to, but not something bad, and he doesn't want to waste time arguing about it. It's when he's trying to hide that he's doing anything at all that you have to worry."
"Does he do that often?" The young archmage asked.
"Not…" Luna was interrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn. "… really. The last time it happened, we found him turning pirates into women and trying to crossbreed them with manticores. Nymphadora was soooo mad when she found out about it… at least until he took her to meet them. She wasn't too sympathetic after that."
There were exclamations of disgust from the people listening to the conversation, but Luna just yawned again. She was so tired… loaning Elune her body had really wiped her out.
On the bright side, they'd really cleaned out Icecrown Citadel. Only a handful of undead had tried to attack them here while the others were fighting the Lich King. Only a few wraiths remained, and they were easily kept at bay with a holy barrier.
"Why would he even do something like that?" Arko asked in exasperation.
"To see if he could." Luna shrugged. Really, that was half the reason that Harry did anything. Well, it had been until all these world-saving shenanigans. Now that things were looking to calm down a bit, he'd probably go back to that.
She drifted back into a light doze, trusting her friends and family to protect her. Then she was rather rudely awakened as Icecrown Spire started rumbling and shaking.
A great pillar of Light enveloped it, blasting down into the depths and up into the clouds. The magic felt wrathful and full of hate and very much like Sally.
Luna let herself be helped to her feet, but her thoughts were elsewhere. The vast quantity of Light magic was splintering into countless directions. Some of those splinters struck the wraith outside the barrier, making them shriek in agony for a moment before being purified of necromantic magic. Reduced to harmless soul wisps, they floated away. If each of those Light splinters went to an individual undead… channeling this much was not safe. Sally's soul wasn't strong enough to channel this much, even with Light's Wrath helping.
The pillar of Light cut out and Icecrown Spire started to crumble. Everyone tensed in readiness. Moments later, Harry came bounding down the steps. His left hand was missing its gauntlet and the skin showed remnants of bloodletting. In his arms, he held a still form wrapped in his cloak. A single charred arm and the burned headpiece of Light's Wrath peeked out of it.
"Sally." Luna noted sadly, looking at her husband. "Harry, what have you done?"
"A battle at the crossroads of destiny, upon which we close the circle. The artifact of the enslaver, to whom all remaining undead are bound. A ritual circle inked by the anathema blood of the liberator, to prevent corruption. The pure hatred of the crusader, to burn it all away. She died with her enemies destroyed and her vengeance fulfilled, we should all be so lucky."
"Well said." Some of the orcs muttered.
"You sacrificed her." Jaina instantly understood, scowling.
"She would have it no other way."
He had no remorse at all and Luna understood. Still, she was a bit sad. "I really wanted her to be happy."
"You spared her from doing further misguided evil." Fordring shook his head, also sad. "At least this way, she will be remembered as a hero, one of the greatest Azeroth has ever seen."
There wasn't much to say after that. Their somewhat diminished group made its way back out of Icecrown Citadel as the Spire collapsed behind them. The journey was silent and creepy, but lacked the oppressive dread atmosphere it had going in. When they reached the battlements, they saw that the battle outside had ceased, leaving behind only a corpse-strewn field.
Among the charred bodies of countless undead were the bodies of red, green, blue, and even a few bronze dragons. Not many, but considering their small numbers and their power, even a single one said a lot. The wrecks of Alliance and Scourge airships also lay among them, and no doubt there were many smaller bodies as well, though it was hard to see from this distance, champions who had fought to keep the main body of the Scourge from streaming into Icecrown Citadel and flanking them while they were pushing forward to the Lich King.
Without the Lich King, the dimensional phasing had collapsed, so they were able to make their way down directly.
Alexstrasza had come to fight personally and now stood looking sadly at her fallen kin. Close to her, Merithra of the Green Dragons, Kalecgos of the Blue Dragons, and Chronormu of the Bronze Dragons also stood. Tthe Alliance and Horde leadership was a bit further away, but all turned to them when they arrived.
"You were successful." The Aspect of Life stated when she saw them. "We all sensed the Lich King fall, and saw the wrathful shards of Light that destroyed the Scourge utterly."
"We won, but not without cost." Fordring spoke up, gesturing to the bodies of Hellscream and Sally.
While they were talking, Sacrolash and Alythess made their way from among the exhausted defenders and quickly rushed towards Luna, fussing over her. It made Harry smile in amusement at how completely the two former demons had leaned into their new role as Luna's handmaidens and disciples.
Now if only his dear wife didn't encourage their chuunibyo antics so much.
"… momentous victory!" A familiar, dramatic voice rose the low din of murmured conversation. "The forces of truth, justice, and honor prevailed over the darkest of evils! We all are made brothers and sisters by the blood we shed together. I call for a grand celebration to honor the victorious dead that fell this day, and to reaffirm our commitment to protect Azeroth from all who would threaten it!"
Harry heaved a sigh. Nothing that von Zeldig had just said was unreasonable. Indeed, it was a very good idea for many reasons.
But did he have to be such a ham about it?
"Sounds good to me." He said before anyone could start discussing things. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take my women home and have lots of life-affirming sex."
As was to be expected from soldiers, there was lots of approving hooting and bawdy comments. Any of them that had women of their own were clearly thinking that it was an excellent idea. Or men, in the case the females and rare homosexual man. The single ones were eyeballing each other contemplatively.
Harry was mildly curious to find out how many crossbreeds would be conceived today. This was exactly the kind of situation where people would have less inhibitions than if they were dead drunk.
He gave a pointed wink and smirk at Jaina, and an eyebrow waggle in the direction of Kalecgos. If he couldn't bed the woman himself, then by thunder he was going to at least get her out of this woe-is-me funk she'd been in ever since Arthas performed his act of aggressive sanitation on Stratholme.
She blushed and glared back at him, but it looked more embarrassed than angry. Heh, maybe she'd get laid yet. Luna was sure to pull the details out of her in a couple of days. For now, there were women to lay!