A Nerubian's Journey

Nozdormu allowed a sigh to pass through his maw as he sensed Chronormu approaching his lair.

While he was fond of all members of his flight, and Chronormu in particular did good work in her role as an investigator of temporal anomalies, she only ever approached him to speak of matters of importance.

Forcing himself to wake up completely, Nozdormu rose from where he had laid down to sleep and prepared himself for the coming conversation. Ever since the significant change in the future of the timeline that took place several years ago, the Infinite Dragonflight had redoubled their efforts to corrupt the timestream.

Things were beginning to return to normal now that they had realized that the Bronze Dragonflight remained powerful enough to stop them, but that did not change the fact that he had been given little chance to rest over the past few years.

Shaking the sand from his scales, Nozdormu glanced at his lair filled with priceless artifacts that he had collected from throughout the timestream. All of the artifacts had already played their role in history, so collecting them would do no harm to the timestream.

Even he needed a hobby, and collecting artifacts was something that amused him and helped ease the burden on his shoulders.

With a quick application of his magic, Nozdormu transformed into his mortal guise. Where before stood a Dragon, now stood a tall Quel’dorei who possessed wise blue eyes, long brown hair, and was wearing a regal set of bronze-colored robes.

Chronormu seemed to prefer her mortal form, and gnomes were far too small for him to comfortably speak to while wearing his true skin.

Nozdormu did not have to wait very long before a female gnome that looked quite exhausted walked through the entrance to his lair.

“Master Nozdormu,” said Chronormu, offering a respectful bow. “The Infinite Dragonflight have been repelled from their attempts to disrupt Medivh’s opening of the Dark Portal and their attacks on the merchant ship traveling to Northrend have been defeated.”

“Good,” said Nozdormu tiredly. “Hopefully they now realize that the significant shift in the future does not mean that our flight has weakened or that they can attack the timestream unopposed.”

“I hope that is the case, Master Nozdormu,” said Chronormu, sounding equally as exhausted. “Things have been difficult these past few years and a bit of rest would be appreciated. Has there been any progress in discovering the source of the change in the timeline?”

“Some, but not as much as I hoped for,” said Nozdormu, doing his best to suppress his annoyance.

While some members of his flight believed that he knew everything there was to know about what was and will be, Nozdormu knew that was far from the truth.

He was excruciatingly aware that there were many extremely powerful entities throughout the cosmos that had the ability to either deceive him or hide things from his vision. The Old Gods in particular, as sealed as they were, often used their power to disrupt the timeways and hide certain events by making it difficult for him to discern the truth by making false paths seem more real than they should.

There was also the Burning Legion, who possessed powerful Fel magics and existed in the Twisting Nether, a realm through which time passed differently.

Nozdormu knew more about the past and the future than any other being on Azeroth, but he was not a god.

He was not Lord Aman’thul.

Perhaps things would be different after the power that he had imbued into the Dragon Soul was returned to him and he had fully regained the gift that Lord Aman’thul had given him, but for now, he had many powerful rivals.

However, Nozdormu was starting to believe that they were not responsible for the changes in the future as he had initially believed.

He had come to this verdict after concluding that the changes to the future were simply too… favorable to the fate of Azeroth.

Of course, that wasn’t to say that all of the changes were good, but they were certainly preferable to what existed before.

“While I have not been able to discover exactly what influenced one of the nerubians to come into contact with members of the Eastern Kingdoms, I have concluded that neither the Old Gods nor the Burning Legion are likely to be the source,” said Nozdormu solemnly.

For the first few years after the change, he had worried that it was some form of a complicated plot by the Old Gods, but recent investigations had revealed that to be unlikely.

“Really?” Chronormu exclaimed in surprise. “Then what could have possibly caused it?”

“I know not,” said Nozdormu with a hint of worry. “Perhaps I will be able to answer that question in the near future, but my paths for investigation have been exhausted for now.”

While much of the future had changed, the destruction of the Dragon Soul in the near future and the return of his full power were still fated to happen, even if the details of the event had changed.

Nozdormu and Chronormu continued to speak more about the changes to the timeline and the increased activity of the Infinite Dragonflight, but it soon became obvious to him that her concerns had not been fully alleviated.

“What worries you so much, Chronormu?” asked Nozdormu, hoping that he could find a way to ease her worries.

“Nothing, Master Nozdormu. It's just that… you seem to be much less concerned about the changes in the timeline than the rest of our flight,” Chronormu said hesitantly. “Why is that?”

Nozdormu withheld a sigh as he considered how to answer her question. Truthfully, this was not the first time that something unexpected had occurred in the timeline, and he had long since learned to ‘roll with the punches,’ to borrow a human term.

However, there were many in the flight who believed him to be infallible, especially among the younger members, and thought that there was nothing that could escape his sight. He had tried his best to disabuse them of this notion, but it didn’t help that he was vastly more powerful than the majority of his flight.

“Chronormu, time itself is, from a certain perspective, an illusion,” said Nozdormu after he finished organizing his thoughts. “The only true reality is the now, the present moment in which we live. Every past moment is a memory and every future moment is a hope or fear that has not yet manifested. The Bronze Dragonflight is responsible for protecting the timeways from corruption. It is not our responsibility to control the path through which it flows. I will continue to search for the source of these changes, but given that it does not seem to be a result of attempts to corrupt the timeways I do not see a need to be overly concerned.”

Nozdormu waited several moments as Chronormu seemed to process his words.

“I understand, Master Nozdormu,” said Chronormu after a few moments of silence. “I will try my best not to worry too much about this matter.”

“Good,” said Nozdormu approvingly. “Remember, Chronormu, time is a—.”

“Time is a tangled web. Try not to dwell on the loose ends,” said Chronormu with no small amount of exasperation. Nozdormu couldn’t help but smile as he saw some of the tension leave her shoulders. “I must have heard you say that phrase thousands of times since I first heard it as a whelp, Master Nozdormu.”

“I would not need to say it so much if you all listened the first time,” Nozdormu said chidingly.

From there, the conversation went on for a while longer before Chronormu excused herself and began making her way out of his lair, looking noticeably more relieved than when she first entered.

Once she left, Nozdormu shed his mortal skin and returned to where he had been sleeping before, intent on resting while he still had the opportunity.

After all, the future was starting to look busy for him, and he would prefer to get as much rest as he could before his coming confrontation with Neltharion.

“Warchief, I bring you news of Gul’dan,” said Drakk Earthsplitter as he approached Ogrim Doomhammer, leader of the Horde.

The Warchief of the Horde was an impressive figure, larger and more imposing than any other orc that Drakk had seen. Doomhammer was currently sitting in the ruined dining hall of one of the destroyed human kingdom’s nobles, enjoying a feast with many of the orc leaders that made up the Horde.

Stormwind was a hard-won victory, and many orcs were eager to enjoy the spoils of war.

“What is it, Earthsplitter? Has that traitor finally awoken?” asked Ogrim eagerly. Drakk knew that the Warchief was eager for the warlock to awaken so that he could see the look in Gul’dan’s eyes when he learned that the rest of his ‘Shadow Council’ had been destroyed.

“Not yet, Warchief, but the medicine woman says that he will awake soon,” said Drakk.

“Good!” bellowed Hurkan Skullsplinter, Chieftain of the Bonechewer Clan and the only orc Drakk had ever seen approach Ogrim’s size. “Finally that traitor can get what he deserves! I will enjoy watching him die. It will please me nearly as much as enjoying our victory over the humans!”

All the orcs who were not busy stuffing their mouths full of food, and many who were, broke into booming cheers at the Chieftain’s words.

“Earthsplitter! Tell the medicine woman to send for me the moment that Gul’dan is awake,” Ogrim ordered as soon as the cheers subsided.

“Yes, Warchief,” Drakk said obediently.

“Good. Come join our feast,” said Ogrim. “Loyal orcs like you should take the time to enjoy the spoils of war after a difficult victory.”

“Thank you, Warchief, but I wish to return to helping the grunts clear out the city of human survivors,” said Drakk, refusing politely. “The humans are clever, and there are still many who are hiding from my mace.”

“Ha! Fine then,” said Ogrim dismissively. “Enjoy your hunting, Earthsplitter.”

“Thank you, Warchief,” said Drakk as he bowed politely before leaving the way he came.

Drakk calmly made his way through the city, ignoring the sounds of humans being killed and orcs yelling in exhilaration, and started walking down a path that would lead him out of the city.

It did not take very long for him to find himself alone and outside of Stormwind, especially since any orc who attempted to focus on him would immediately find their attention wandering elsewhere.

Soon enough, Drakk found himself secluded in the woods outside of the human city.

After making certain that he was not being observed by any sapient minds, orc, human, or otherwise, Deathwing allowed himself to shed the skin of Drakk Earthsplitter and take on his true form.

Gone was the pitiful mortal form of a nondescript Blackrock orc warrior, and instead stood the towering form of Deathwing the Destroyer, leader of the Black Dragonflight. A large part of him wished to release a bellowing roar after returning to his true form, but Deathwing pushed down the urge so as not to alert the Horde.

Too much of his time had been spent wearing mortal guises as he manipulated the war between the humans and orcs to further the goals of his masters. Now was one of the rare few moments where Deathwing could spread his wings freely while he considered how he intended to move forward, and he was determined to make full use of it.

Fortunately, things were going even better than Deathwing had expected.

Not only had one of the more powerful mortal kingdoms been destroyed, but the Horde had begun to slip away from the control of the Burning Legion after they had culled the majority of their warlocks.

All the better for his own masters to take control in the Burning Legion’s stead.

Deathwing chuffed out a short laugh as recalled how easy it was to prevent the rest of the mortal kingdoms from sending aid to Stormwind. All that he had needed to do was use the power that his masters had gifted him to bend the fragile mortal minds of a select few mortals while wearing his human guise. There had even been many who had been perfectly glad to ignore Stormwind’s increasingly desperate pleas for aid, not needing to be manipulated at all.

Unfortunately, the mortals of Stormwind had proven to be a formidable enemy and had weakened the Horde significantly despite their crushing defeat. After the Horde began marching north and the threat of them became increasingly obvious to the mortals, it would become impossible to stop them from uniting into a force that would overcome even the Horde’s might.

However, now that the orc shaman to whom he had sent visions had gone to the Redridge Mountains with his clan and had succeeded in acquiring the Dragon Soul, all of Deathwing’s plans were beginning to fall into place.

Alexstrasza would almost certainly move to investigate the destruction of the wards that protected the Dragon Soul and the lack of word from its former guardian, that whelp Orastrasz. And by doing so, she would soon fly directly into Deathwing’s trap.

Once Alexstrasza was safely within his grasp and subject to his whims, there would be absolutely nothing that could stop him.

Just as Deathwing was about to lie down in a comfortable position from which he could gleefully enjoy his success and plan for the future, he suddenly felt the presence of his masters pushing into his mind.

Deathwing soon found himself seeing images of what seemed to be a mortal ship approaching what he recognized as the lands belonging to the human kingdom of Lordaeron. Yet, while there were indeed humans on this ship as expected, there were also creatures that he only barely remembered.

Nerubians? Why were the humans willingly carrying servants of my masters to Lordaeron?

Deathwing winced in pain as he was immediately assaulted by the unmitigated wrath of one of his masters, the Old God known as Yogg-Saron.

TRAITORS.

Deathwing could barely contain his shock as he processed what his master had just told him. Traitors? The creatures that had been born from his masters’ very blood had turned against them? Deathwing would have never believed that such a thing was possible if not for the fact that one of his masters had been the one to tell him so.

From the moment that he had given himself to the Old Gods in order to free himself from the burden that had been placed on him by the Titans, Deathwing had known that there was no going back to the way things had been before.

The fact that these insects had betrayed his masters filled Deathwing with a mix of… complicated feelings that he did not wish to examine at this time.

Forcibly pushing those feelings away, Deathwing settled down to ponder what this development meant for his future plans. He had not done any research into how Azjol-Nerub had fared since the War of the Ancients, but their impending contact with the Eastern Kingdoms would doubtlessly change things dramatically… though in what way he was not sure.

There was not much he could do about it for now given that he needed to stay close to the Horde until the orcs had finished learning how to wield the Dragon Soul and succeeded in capturing Alexstrasza, but after that…

The creatures who had betrayed his masters and worked against their goals would need to be dealt with.

Devan Everdawn thanked the grim-faced Quartermaster as he was given his rations for the day, which were mostly just a few biscuits and a bit of fish.

Today was a day of clear weather, so Devan decided to eat his rations on the deck, away from the many sick and injured who were situated below. For a ship that was nearly completely filled with people, things were depressingly silent. Everywhere that Devan went, he could see tear-covered faces and gazes staring off into the abyss. The priests and priestesses of the Church were doing their best to tend to injuries and lift spirits, but they themselves were little better off than those they wished to help.

Devan apologized to one of the guards after accidentally bumping into them, but they paid him no mind at all.

A few months ago he would have been expected to hear the guard yell something like ‘Watch it knife-ear!’ on a good day, but the human didn’t even seem to have enough motivation to give him a dirty look let alone insult him or worse.

Not that he would still expect to be called a ‘knife-ear’ after everything that had happened. People had too much on their minds nowadays to concern themselves with a half-elf, like the fact that a green-skinned horde of monsters had destroyed their whole kingdom and driven those they hadn’t killed into exile.

Devan found himself a comfortable enough position on the deck to sit down and enjoy his meal as much as he could.

Devan had served as a scout in Stormwind’s military since he had been old enough to join. He had fought for his kingdom during both the Gnoll War and the Gurubashi War, but while both the gnolls and trolls had been significant threats to the kingdom, they both paled in comparison to the Horde.

When they had first received reports of large green-skinned creatures raiding the countryside, they had believed that they were being attacked by some new tribe of trolls, like the forest trolls up north. Once they realized that the Horde was a new threat that had never been seen before, they rallied the full strength of their kingdom to face them, certain that their enemies would fall beneath the might of their kingdom.

How wrong they were.

Now they were running north in the hope that the kingdoms there, who were happy to ignore Stormwind’s plight before, would finally offer their aid and stand against the Horde that would no doubt soon turn their eyes north.

Devan could almost feel the cloud of despair that was smothering what remained of the people of Stormwind as they sailed north.

Devan turned his gaze to a certain, heavily guarded portion of the deck.

Anduin Lothar, despite being a legendary figure in the kingdom, was barely distinguishable from any of the other despairing souls sailing away from their ruined home. Both the crown prince and Medivh’s apprentice—who seems to have inexplicably aged several decades since Devan had last seen him several months ago—were not doing much better. All three of them looked as if their worlds had been ripped away from under their feet.

Crown prince Varian was obviously doing his best to put on a brave face, but Devan could easily see that the boy had recently been crying.

He couldn’t exactly blame either of them, the Champion had watched as the kingdom he had sworn to protect burned to the ground and the crown prince had lost both of his parents in a very short amount of time.

There were even rumors that the boy had been there to watch the traitorous orc wench murder his father.

He himself had also lost many of those he held dear to the Horde, and it was only the experiences he had gained living among those who lived such short lives that allowed him to push forward. Half-elves did not live the millennia that pureblooded high elves could, but they still had lifespans that measured in the centuries, of which he was already in his second.

Just as Devan was preparing to head back to his quarters after finishing his rations, his instincts alerted him to strange movements in the corner of his vision. Turning a sharp gaze earned through centuries of being a military scout, Devan immediately picked out what had drawn his attention.

Standing near the entrance that led below deck was a bald old man with clear blue eyes and a pudgy build. Devan felt like he recognized him from somewhere, but was unable to immediately remember where. This, however, was not what had drawn his attention.

What was strange about this man was that he was subtly flashing hand signals that should only be known to members of his scouting party. Devan stared at the features of the old human in an attempt to see if he was a retired veteran, but he came up blank no matter how much he searched his memories. Not only was Devan incredibly good with faces, but he had also personally known every scout who had joined Stormwind’s military for much longer than the old man had been alive.

As soon as Devan stood up to see what the stranger wanted, he quickly moved to head below deck. Devan did not want to cause a disturbance by running after him, and it wasn’t as if the human had anywhere to run, so he simply casually followed the old man down into the ship.

It was not very difficult to follow the human, and Devan soon found himself standing in front of a door to a cabin in a section of the ship that was suspiciously devoid of refugees.

Devan knocked politely on the door, assuming that whoever organized this subterfuge had intentionally brought him here wished to meet with him.

It did not take long for the door to be opened, revealing both the old man who he had been following and a figure he well-recognized. Standing behind a desk filled with documents was an old human woman with a head full of white hair and an appearance that would not stick out in a crowd among the usual crones of the kingdom. The only thing that could be said to be notable about her was the grotesque amount of rings that she wore on each of her fingers, a habit which Devan knew that the woman had possessed since she was young.

With a sigh of exasperation, Devan did not hesitate to walk into the room and close the door behind him.

“Pathonia Shaw, to what do I owe the pleasure?” asked Devan, already finding himself tired of the conversation before it had even started.

He had been subject to her near constant ‘invitations’ throughout the years, ever since she was a young up and coming knife for hire in the criminal underworld of Stormwind. This was long before the kingdom's leadership moved to organize its criminals into a guild that would secretly work in its service. Devan was honestly scared at the idea of how much the woman could get done if she had his lifespan considering what she had already achieved in her own.

“Everdawn, this is not another attempt to recruit you,” said Pathonia Shaw, uncharacteristically straight to the point. “I brought you here because both I and your kingdom need your help.”

Devan was surprised. He had never known the founder and leader of the Stormwind Assassin’s Guild to miss an opportunity to attempt to recruit him, or clearly state her intentions without first playing mind games.

I suppose not even the Queen of thieves and killers can remain unaffected by what happened, Devan thought with a faint sorrow.

“What is it?” asked Devan. If she was willing to get to the point, then he would at least hear her out.

Only Devan’s sharp eyes allowed him to see the flicker of surprise that flashed across the old woman’s face.

“I have an important mission which needs to be done, but for which I do not have an appropriate agent,” said Pathonia entreatingly.

Devan could see the tension in her frame as she expected the conversation to devolve into an argument, so he instead took a moment to consider her words. He had never approved of the kingdom’s decision to use criminals to do its dirty work, but things were different now.

Still, Devan could not allow his personal feelings on the matter to get in the way if his kingdom truly needed his help. If there was ever a time for the people of Stormwind to come together, then it was surely now.

“Very well,” said Devan. “I will hear you out, though I do not guarantee that I will agree to help you.”

Both Pathonia and the old man who had led him here let out a sigh of relief and lost much of the tension in their bodies.

“Thank you, Everdawn,” said Pathonia, showing him a rare smile. “Before I explain the mission to you, I would first like to give you some information that you may or may not know about what happened in the days leading up to Stormwind’s destruction.”

Devan listened patiently as Pathonia told him about everything that had been happening among Stormwind’s leadership during the later days of the war. Much of what she told him were things that he had already known, but others he had not. Many people knew that the king had been betrayed and killed by the half-orc female that he had kept by his side, but this was the first time that Devan had heard anything about Court Conjurer Medivh.

Though it did make sense why the leadership was not eager to share that information given everyone's already low morale. After she was done telling him about what had happened, Pathonia finally told him the details about the mysterious mission that she wished to send him on.

“You want me to investigate Lordaeron’s nobles and find out why we were not sent aid?” Devan blurted out in surprise.

“That is correct,” said Pathonia solemnly. “The kingdom sent constant pleas for aid for several years to anyone who would listen, but there was not a single kingdom that was willing to help us no matter what we said, not even our closest allies. That isn’t something that can be easily explained by the normal power games that happen between kingdoms.”

“You suspect that our diplomatic efforts were sabotaged?” asked Devan through gritted teeth, fury growing quickly within him until he was feeling a wrath greater than he had ever felt in his long life.

If somebody had prevented Stormwind from receiving aid from the other kingdoms, then they held a massive amount of responsibility for the kingdom’s destruction and all the lives that had been lost.

“I suspect foul play, though I couldn’t tell you why or how,” said Pathonia, her voice colder than he had ever heard before. Devan was not the only one who could benefit from a target for his anger. “However, if there is one thing that I have learned, it is that the consequences of failing to distinguish friend from foe are often catastrophic.”

Devan winced at the venom he could hear in the old woman’s tone, certain that she blamed Lothar for failing to foresee the betrayal of Medivh and Garona. The two of them had always had an antagonist relationship, and Devan was certain that things had not improved now that the Champion was Stormwind’s regent ruler.

“Why not use one of your own agents? Or do this yourself?” Devan asked curiously.

“My agents are either dead or not good enough,” Pathonia said bluntly. “Besides, Lothar does not trust the Assassin’s Guild in the same way that King Llane did. He has already ordered for us to become more integrated into the kingdom’s government. The Assassin’s Guild will soon be reformed into SI:7, a covert organization that answers directly to the throne. Most of my time will be spent grooming my grandson, Mathias, to take over my position.”

Devan was not particularly surprised to hear that. Many in Stormwind’s leadership had long held the opinion that the Assassin’s Guild should be dissolved and its members put under the thumb of its rulers. It was also no secret that Mathias, who had very pointedly been pushed into becoming friends with the crown prince, was being groomed to lead such an organization.

“You are one of the few people outside of my organization who possesses the skills necessary to accomplish this. Something that might be needed if the sabotage came from within and we need to hide our movements from their eyes,” Pathonia continued. Devan could believe that to be true. He had picked up a multitude of useful skills over his long life, after all.

Devan did not have to think very long before nodding his agreement, causing both of the humans to smile in relief.

As he and Pathonia spent the next few hours speaking over the details of the mission and going over which of Lordaeron's nobles he should investigate first, Devan could feel a fiery resolve grow within him.

He had spent his entire life serving his kingdom by finding its enemies, so this was not much different. If there was indeed somebody who was responsible for preventing his kingdom from receiving aid in its time of greatest need, then he would not rest until he found them.

And when he did… they would regret making an enemy of Stormwind.