LIGHTNOVELWORLD Chapter 121: Chapter 121
(Caverns of Time)
Within a endless cavern full of portals leading to different timelines, and alternate realities, the most powerful of the Bronze Dragons had gathered.
Floating above them all was a great big yellow-bronze colored wyrm.
It was Nozdormu, the self professed Guardian of Time.
"Everyone is here. Good. The daughter of Akatosh and her spawn threaten the proper timeline as set by Aman'Thul. This rivalry between the Pantheon of the Aedra, and the Titans has created a Time Crisis. Chronormu, Andantenormu, as you two failed in this task, it is up to you to make things right." Nozdormu's voice boomed throughout the cavern, and was felt across several timelines.
Chromie felt the piercing glares of her compatriots, and she nervously shifted in place. She was about to nominate Dante to handle the issues, but the Tauren had pushed her forward.
'Prick!' Chromie internally swore, but with all the eyes of the Bronze Dragonflight on her, she didn't dare yell or make a scene.
"Master Nozdormu, brothers and sisters, resolving this Time Crisis is simple! We'll do what we always do, grab some adventurers, and launch a raid!" Chromie shouted with confident excitement.
"A simple plan like always, Chromie, but what of the Heroes? Can you convince the Horde and the Alliance to aid us?" Soridormi, a Dragon polymorphed into the appearance of a female High Elf, and prime consort to Nozdormu said disparagingly.
'Pretty girl always needling at me!' Chromie internally fumed.
"Sister, believe me, there is no problem. Right, Dante?" Chromie elbowed her compatriot.
"Oh? Oh! No problem, no problem! We'll just grab some famous Heroes right as they die, and maybe a few collaborators from the future timeline too." Dante waved his hands expressively.
"See? No problem!" Chromie smiled in a cutesy pose.
"This raid, it is limited to 80 adventurers, is it not? 40 Alliance, and 40 Horde? It always confuses me why this happens. Why not use all of the Champions from across all the timelines?" Andormu-a Dragon-polymorphed to look like a High Elf boy-put a hand on his head, and said in a troubled voice.
"The twist and turn of time is a delicate fabric. Summoning any more than 80 Champions of Azeroth would invite unwelcome guests, and tear holes into reality." Nozdormu's voice boomed.
"There you go! So, if we're done here, me and Dante had better get going!" Chromie grabbed Dante by the arm, and was about to port out when she was stopped.
"Wait." Nozdormu commanded.
His words carried the conceptual weight of time, and reversed Chromie's actions.
Chromie held onto her head as she had the memories of 10 seconds into the future, but had been flung into her past body.
"This is the turning point. I sense a great upheaval on the horizon, yet the outcome of this battle eludes me. Varrus Vandercross, and his mother, Nightsong must be eliminated. Kael Sunstrider, however, must remain alive if we are to return to the proper timeline."
"Yes, Master!" Chromie saluted, and prepared to teleport away once more, but she was held in place by Nozdormu's power.
"Do not treat this task as flippantly as you have in the past-and the future-defeat means the end of the Dragonflight as we know it. Treat the Time Crisis with the respect and fear it deserves. Go now, and be swift about it."
Chromie saluted her father and Master, then hesitated, waiting for him to interrupt her once more. When all he did was look at her for a solid minute, Chromie scratched the back of her head in embarrassment.
"Come on Dante!" Chromie loudly whispered, then disappeared with the Tauren to carry out her task.
Appearing in Chromie's room, the tiny Gnome began to stuff her ancient artifacts, rare reagents, and collectibles hastily into her mageweave bag.
"Chromie, what do we do?" Dante asked in a panic.
"Quiet, I'm thinking!" Chromie yelled back. "No wait, you have loot on you, right? The Champions of Azeroth won't do anything if you don't offer some rare items."
"I have made a copy of a ring, a cloak, some leather boots, and a staff." Dante eventually said.
"You're getting real cheap on me, Dante!" Chromie said in exasperation.
She then took out an ink pot, and quill, and began to hastily write a note:
'Champion, if you have received this message, then the world is in dire straits! The Master of the Bronze Dragonflight, Nozdormu has sensed a tumultuous shift in the balance of the timeline. The evil Blood Elf, Varrus Vandercross, has corrupted the minds of his fellow Highborn, and intends to overthrow all the races of the world with the power of the Sunwell! If his ritual is not stopped, then time as we know it will be altered forever! The Infinite Dragonflight have their claws dipped in this operation, and must also be slain on sight!
If his dastardly plot is achieved, then the entire last 20 years of history will have been erased! You, your loved ones, and any child that survived the events of the Cataclysm, Pandaren conflict and so many more would all vanish!
Any who claim Vandercross's head shall receive 10,000 gold, and their choice of weapon. Return with Nightsong's head, and be rewarded with a ring, staff, leather boots, or a cloak! Additional rewards are to be distributed from vendors for each pair of Elf ears collected, including reputation with the Bronze Dragonflight.
You are all that stands between a free world, and one dominated by the smugness of all Elves.
Good luck Champion, we need you.'
After blowing on the ink, Chromie chanted the words to a spell, and sent the letter to countless mail boxes. The adventurers from the future-true timeline-would all receive it at the same time, and once accepted, could use the letter as a portal.
"There, finished!" Chromie proudly clapped her hands together with a satisfied look.
"Isn't it a bit disingenuous? I watched the logs of the past, and saw now corruption or mind control. There weren't any Infinite Dragons meddling either?" Dante scratched his head in confusion.
"Dante, Dante, Dante, my sweet summer child. After all this time, you still don't get adventurers." Chromie chided, and took a long sip from her juice box.
"Isn't lying bad?" Dante asked.
"It's a Time Crisis for Aman'Thul's sake! C'mon Dante! Just throw out buzzwords like 'corrupted' and 'loot,' and the Champions of Azeroth will flock to the cause. As long as they have a moral high ground, and monetary reward, they'd kill Nozdormu if I told them to!" Chromie giggled into her hand.
"I don't think it's right…" Dante muttered.
"Ahh you've been saying the same thing for years, but that hasn't stopped you from snuffing babes in the cradle." Chromie viciously jabbed the corner of her juice box into Dante's side.
"...sometimes I wonder if preserving the 'true' timeline is worth it. How many more children and innocents must I slay to 'continue the peace." Dante stared forlornly at the wall in Chromie's room, and angrily tore down a 'Earth, Wind & Fire' poster.
"Hey, that was a collectible! Besides, that kind of talk is what formed those Infinite Dragonflight assholes in the first place. If you keep up that thinking, you'll get corrupted!" Chromie's squeaky voice yelled.
"Yeah…I'm going to go get future Thrall and a few other Horde Heroes. We'll attack Quel'Danas from the northern shore. You go get future Jaina along with some other Alliance Heroes, and attack from the south so the two sides don't start fighting one another." Dante said in a tired tone, then ported out of the room.
"Stupid Dante. As if I like killing kids." Chromie tore into her Thrall plushie with a pout.
After another sip of her juice to calm herself down, Chromie still found herself in a foul mood.
"Stupid Titans, stupid Aedra. What have the Gods ever done for anyone?" Chromie set her torn up Thrall plushie down, and ported out to take care of her tasks.
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On the northern beaches of Quel'Danas, multiple portals opened up just outside the anti-scrying, anti-portal magic being set up at the Sunwell.
Stepping out of them, three Heroes of the Horde's future and past made their presence known.
One of them was a middle aged Orc, his giant hammer, beige cloak, and large red prayer beads marked him out to be Thrall, founder of Orgrimmar, and former leader of the Horde.
The next Hero to step forth was also an Orc. His top knot black hair, and iconic axe revealed him to be Grommash Hellscream.
Lastly, an elderly Orc with a white ponytail, clad in midnight black plate, and wielding an identical hammer to Thrall stepped forth. It was Orgrim Doomhammer.
"Lok'tar ogar!" Thrall spoke first.
"Blood and thunder." Grom unconsciously found himself responding.
"Thrall, boy why do you look so old? Grommash...the last I remember, I was impaled through the back, and handed you the title of Warchief. Now, we are on some beach? Is this some illusion of Gul'dan's?" Orgrim clutched his hammer tightly as he eyed Thrall and Grom wearily.
"Yes, yes. It is all so strange. I had delivered the final blow on Mannoroth, and was dying in your arms, Thrall. Is this, as Doomhammer says, a trick?" Gromheld tightly onto his axe, and scanned his surroundings with an unbridled bloodlust.
"No trick my friends. A threat to the Horde, and the very fabric of reality has emerged, and I need your help." Thrall held up his hands and explained.
"You are no longer a boy, yet the Horde has lasted so long into your middle age? Well done, Thrall." Orgrim grinned, and heated his hammer behind his back.
"I don't care about any of that. So long as I am breathing and my battle brother says fight, I fight!" Grom opened his mouth wide, and screamed out the Warsong chant.
As Grommash performed the famous Hell-scream, numerous other portals began to open up. Thousands of Horde soldiers emerged, along with them came catapults, zeppelins, and other machines of war.
The soldiers respectfully saluted Thrall, and began to set up tents, trenches, and supply lines. A defensive camp was swiftly set up, and scouts were sent out.
"What manner of creatures are these?" Orgrim cautiously readied his weapon.
"Trolls, Tauren, and Orcs. Don't recognize the Horde anymore, do you old man?" Grom mockingly laughed.
"The Horde has grown strong with friendship." Thrall said in pride.
Once the portals seemed like they would stop, 40 uniquely dressed individuals arrived.
With their arrival, the professional atmosphere created by the soldiers evaporated like mist on a midsummers day.
"Woah, is that the doomhammer?"
"I dare you to challenge Grom to a mak'gora."
"Thrall is weaker than Grom."
"I wish Garrosh were here, he was a true Warchief!"
On and on the Champions of Azeroth rattled to one another, creating chaos in the camp.
"Is this the unity you had boasted about?" Orgrim crossed his arms, and looked at Grom/Thrall with stern disapproval.
"...just point me in the direction of the enemy, Thrall, or else I might find myself decapitaring a few of these whelps." Grom swung his axe in the air, and snarled.
"They are a silly lot, but the Champions of Azeroth have saved many lives. Without them the Horde would not exist. They are due their respect." Thrall chastised his friends, then turned to the leader of the group.
"Champion! You have accepted the Bronze Dragonflights summons. I rest easy knowing you have come to this battlefield. My men and I will act as the vanguard, and provide you an opening to strike at the heart of the island. Strike hard, because the fate of Azeroth rests on your shoulders. Lok'tar ogar!"
"Lok'tar ogar!" The soldiers who overheard Thrall's speech saluted, then began to run towards the Elven forces.
Thrall saluted the Champions of Azeroth, then began to run after the soldiers.
"I can't complain about leading the Vanguard, but what it this about leaving all the glory behind?" Grom complained as he ran to catch up.
"Typical Warsong mindset. This is why you were never Warchief." Orgrim belly laughed.
"Just you wait until this is over. I still haven't settled the score with you, old man!" Grom roared back, eliciting even more laughter from the Doomhammer.
Thrall grinned at his friends. He knew their time together would be short, as they would be sent back to experience their fates once the Sunwell's restoration was post-poned.
But he would enjoy it for as long as it would last.
"Warchief, a mystical wall blocks our path!" A Horde officer ran up and saluted.
Thrall wanted to admonish the man, that he hadn't been Warchief for years, but so many in the Horde still called him by that title, he had grown tired of denying it.
"Lok'tar ogar, blood and thunder!" Thrall said back, then prepared a spell.
Conjuring lightning into his hands, Thrall blasted a hole in the magic shield, allowing countless grunts and other soldiers to pour into the island.
Arrows, magic attacks, and all manner of golems rushed towards his line.
"Yiiieeee-Yiiieee-YeowwWWW!" Grom yelled, and became a bladestorm as he deflected everything sent his way, and cut through countless golems within seconds.
Grom's actions were like a force of nature.
Unstoppable.
Thrall knew if he tried to call the berserker back, he would be just as likely to get a jab from the axe as an enemy.
Orgrim meanwhile was taciturn as he smashed down with his massive hammer. Every second, he would pause to assess the battlefield, and move where he was needed most. To help the weakest part of the Horde line.
His actions proved he was of sound mind, and why he had been so successful as a leader.
Thrall, meanwhile, was blasting apart the golems, and keeping his eyes out for the Elves. So far, they were keeping their distance, and harrying them. As if they wanted to buy as much time as possible.
Thrall grimaced, the return of the Sunwell must be stopped!
"Forward! For the Horde!" Thrall roared as he charged forth.
"For the Horde!"
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AN: while there are some seeming game mechanics this chapter, the adventurers do not have infinite revivals, or any kind of system, or relation to Earth.
TLDR: Varrus is basically a raid boss this arc, lol.