User:GoldenYak/Chronicle/Volume One/Chapter Two

Related to Worlds of Warcraft - Chronicle of the Titan Worlds

The Titans Clash


Sargeras unfolded wings of fel fire vast enough to shroud a world. The stars themselves dimmed behind the green flames. The same flames burned across his entire body, wreathing hands and face in fel fire that burned hotter and hotter as his hatred grew. He became an emerald inferno hanging in the darkness, burning like a terrible sun. Worlds far from Azeroth could see the blazing green star hanging in the sky, tainting the darkness with sickly green. Alien astromancers screamed and clawed at their faces when they tried to observe the new celestial body. Prophets and diviners went mad trying to decipher the meaning of its appearance. Space warped and twisted around the Demon Titan as he marshaled all his terrible strength, breaking open rents into the Twisting Nether that drooled destructive fel.

With a bellow that shattered every world in Azeroth's system and shook its very sun, Sargeras thrust one hand forwards, and from his palm erupted a colossal beam of fel green energy. Pure destructive force, powerful enough to unmake a star, blazed across the void between Sargeras and Azeroth in an instant. Reality itself tore open, jagged and screaming, as the beam reach the Demon Titan's enemy. At the last instant, Azeroth brought her arms up, cosmic dust spiraling off armored bracers as she moved and crossed her arms in a bracing stance. The beam struck Azeroth's crossed limbs and erupted in a supernova of blinding fel flames. As brightly as Sargeras had burned before, his power unleashed burned brighter.

When the glare faded, Azeroth still stood, body smouldering from the shroud of fel energy that still lay about her. On her surface, glowing arcane forests had been eaten to the ground by fel flames. Mountains had crumbled. Rents in her flesh had opened, arcane lifeblood gleaming within. The aura of shining power that surrounded her had dimmed. Sargeras grinned, readying to move in for the kill. Then Azeroth dropped her arms, and the Demon Titan saw his enemy's eyes. Now, Azeroth began to burn, bright white arcane flames springing up across her form. The arcane fire devoured the fel energy, unmaking it, and as it did Azeroth's body renewed itself - in an instant arcane forests regrew and white mountains rebuilt themselves. Now Azeroth blazed like a star in the night, bright and beautiful, a beacon of hope to the universe. Azeroth brought a colossal hand back and focused all her power into her palm, the energy taking form like a bright burning orb. Flinging her hand forwards, Azeroth unleashed an attack of her own to match that of Sargeras', a cascade of arcane brilliance that lanced out at the Demon Titan.

Sargeras barely managed a last-second defense, folding his wings around him and bracing his body. The arcane lance blasted apart his fel-flame wings and slammed into his colossal body, flinging him back. Fel-wrought armor melted and collapsed from the fury of the attack. Arcane light burned into the Demon Titan's surface, cracking open fissures and triggering the eruption of fel volcanoes across his corrupted form. Sargeras howled in pain greater than any he had ever felt. At last, the beam diminished, and Sargeras fought himself free of the burning energy. Struggling to recover from the agony, Sargeras realized with shock that the blast had flung him across the star system. Never had he felt such power, never in all his existence had he been wounded so badly - even his brethren in the Pantheon had not struck so powerful a blow. Azeroth was but a spark of light in the distance, but as Sargeras watched, the light grew brighter. Flying through the void, stardust streaming behind her like the tail of a comet, Azeroth was coming for him.

The Two Legions


Sargeras spread his tattered fel fire wings, which were already beginning to replenish themselves with his boundless hatred. He flung his arms wind, taloned fingers curled. His claw tore into the weave of reality and with a furious below, Sargeras tore apart time and space. The fabric of the material universe was rent asunder on a scale that had never before been witnessed. Great yawning rifts in the Twisting Nether bloomed throughout the star system, the starry darkness shrouded in roiling clouds of chaotic nether-energy. Azeroth halted her flight towards Sargeras as Netherspace poured over her, spilling out from the rifts to engulf light years of realspace. Within the Nether a monumental force was arrayed against her - everything Azeroth had faced thus far had been a mere vanguard. Now, the full might of the Burning Legion spilled out of the Twisting Nether at their dread master's command. Great swarms of demons poured forth like roiling storm-clouds, billions of mo'arg and felhounds racing across the aether on currents of fel energy, flanked by fel reavers and eredar, while clouds of dreadlords, doomguard, and infernals soared overhead. Fleets of demonic vessels emerged from Netherspace, destroyers and dire wraiths, dreadnoughts and doomships, thousands upon thousands of vessels bristling with fel-cannons and carrying millions of shock-troops, enough fire power to scour a galaxy of life. At Sargeras' command, the Burning Legion came in their innumerable multitudes, all the demonic fury of the cosmos focused upon Azeroth. Sargeras began to laugh as the full terrible might of his Legion closed over Azeroth like a tidal wave. This would mean the difference between victory and defeat - Azeroth was alone, while Sargeras had limitless minions at his command. His laughter died as Azeroth raised one hand... and summoned forth a legion of her own.

From Azeroth's arm came streamers of arcane light, winding their way through space like rivers. They coursed on currents that brought them crashing against the fel currents that poured from Netherspace, the two conflicting energies forming glowing bridges hanging in space. Then, emerging from Azeroth's upturned palm they came - thousands of glittering phantasmal figures, living beings rendered in prismatic starlight. Armored knights armed with shield, lance, and great sword astride mighty equine steeds. Lithe elven figures mounted atop great beasts, panthers and stags, wielding spears and triple-bladed glaives. Huge packs of wolves thundered alongside them, carrying muscled warriors who swung axes made of light. Huge bovine giants wielded wicked longspears thundered alongside them on starlight hooves, effortlessly keeping pace with their mounted comrades. Above them flew stout humanoids astride astral gryphons, their bulging muscles wreathed in glowing tattoos and their great fists clutching mighty warhammers. Shimmering elves armed with bows and arrows flew ethereal dragonhawks, while mighty ursine figures rode winding serpentine beasts made of stars. Even stranger beings joined the shimmering armies of Azeroth in charging - creatures of the wild of massive size, wolves and kodo and giant boars, great cats and stags and colossal bears, giant birds of prey, eagles, hawks, dire ravens, phoenixes. All the mortal races and beasts of nature that had ever dwelled on Azeroth now charged forth as arcane avatars of glorious righteousness, thundering across bridges of conjured starlight towards the ranks of the Burning Legion. At the head of this miraculous army were starlight effigies of heroes who had fallen defending the world throughout its many ages of war. Here, an orc hero riding a colossal wolf wielding an axe of glowing wood. There, a human prince astride a gryphon, his words stirring the spirit to the heights of bravery even as they made demons quail in fear. An elven figure leapt from his mount only to transform into a great starry bear and charge his way to the head of the great army. A wondrous mage soared forth on strands of starlight, conjuring awesome sorceries. With a battle-cry echoing in a thousand languages across the void, the army of Azeroth crashed into the demon hordes arrayed against them. Charging knights crushed rank after rank of felguard, casting them off the magical bridges to fall screaming into the darkness. Swords of light cut through felforged armor, lopping off demon heads and limbs. Dwarven gryphon-riders stoved in doomguard faces with their warhammers while their mounts tore apart dreadlords with their wicked talons. Archers let loose arrows that shone like comets as they streaked unerringly towards their targets, blasting demon aparts in prismatic detonations. Starlight wolves crunched fangs down on felhounds, while orcish axes split mo'arg and dismembered wrathguard. Eredar sorcerers screamed as arcane counter-spells devoured them, infernals fell apart as gnomish spell-casters flitted around them like insects, disenchanting the fel energy powering them. Bellowing abyssals were ripped apart by furious beasts whose size and strength dwarfed theirs. Fel reavers were smashed to pieces by the colossal fists of giants made of glowing white stone, like living mountains. The two forces fought furiously in the heart of the raging Netherstorm, the armies of Azeroth scything through the demons with seemingly unstoppable momentum. Moment by moment, the Burning Legion of Sargeras buckled and was driven back by the glowing majesty of Azeroth's Titan Legion.

Sargeras bellowed furious orders to his eredar commanders. He saw what no other demon did - Azeroth's army was powerful, but its numbers paled in comparison to the demons. No matter their strength, they would be overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Like wildfire, the commands of the Demon Titan spread to his Legion. While Azeroth's forces lanced deep into the demon ranks, the bulk of the Legion wheeled about and brought its fury to bear on their flanks. Legion vessels trained their cannons on Azeroth's army and opened fire. Beams of fel green energy lanced out, blasting into the ranks of starlight warriors. Shields of light protected some, but others were dissolved by the corrosive green poison, fading out like a dying fire. Salvo after salvo of demonic artillery crashed into the defenders of Azeroth, heedless of how many demons were caught in the blast. Weakened by the fel fire, glittering knights who had cut down a thousand demons found their strength began to falter, and packs of demons would drag them down, ripping and tearing at them into they dissolved into flickering motes of light. Fel beasts and demon behemoths stormed out of the Nether to match tooth and claw with the creatures born of Azeroth, sinking black fangs into starlight throats and tearing until their prey faded away. On every front the charging armies of Azeroth began to slow, the demon ranks they cut apart reinforced with millions more of the fiends, flowing out of the Nether in endless hordes.

With the tide beginning to turn, Sargeras gave a command to his fleet of mighty demon ships. The great doomships, the deadliest weapons in his armada, wheeled about to face Azeroth. At the prow of every doomship burned a colossal fel cannon, like a terrible green eye, capable of scouring a mortal kingdom down to ash with a single blast. The vessels began to fire at Azeroth, sending a wave of screaming green death scything through the void towards the Titan. Bolt after bolt slammed into Azeroth, causing her features to grimace with pain. The doomships were aiming for the Titan's still outstretched arm, where her forces still poured from her open palm - they were trying to cut off her armies from reinforcement. The other demon vessels continued to fire upon those of her forces that had already been called forth, reaping a heavy toll. Azeroth saw that it was time. Sargeras' forces had moved exactly as she had known they would. Waiting for this moment had been costly, but now the entirety of his armada had closed in and was exposed to her counter-attack.

Fury of the Demon Titan
Holding out her other arm, Azeroth called forth more of her forces. Streamers of arcane light leapt from her fingertips and crashed into the Burning Legion's armada. Dozens of doomships were split in two by the cosmic bands as they wound their way through the demonic fleet, their fragments burning and crashing into vessels. Motes of light rose from Azeroth's outstretch limb and the shimmering bands, flying towards the Legion's ships. Each spark of light formed itself into a great humanoid figure - winged vrykul warriors armed with spear and shield, both male and female with feathered wings made of starlight, reminiscent of the legendary val'kyr that had once shepherded vrykul souls. Now, countless of the mighty warriors flew through the void towards the Legion's ships. Along the bands of arcane light conjured by Azeroth marched more of her forces. Armies of more vrykul, bellowing war-cries and brandishes their massive axes. Legions of towering trolls riding huge dinosaurs of starlight. Thundering hordes of mogu warriors, their cruel faces twisted with a fury that would give a demon pause. Thousands and thousands of huge warriors from Azeroth's primal ages of war thundered through the demon armada. Winged vrkyul hurled spears into ships that detonated with explosive force, blasting apart vessels into smouldering fragments. Mogu leapt from starlight bridges onto the remaining doomships and tore open their hulls, storming through the vessels to crush the mo'arg and gan'arg operating them. The mogu laughed cruelly as they pulled apart the smaller demons with their bare hands, then slammed fists into the seething crystalline hearts of the Legion vessels and broke them apart. Trolls astride astral terrorsaurs and phantasmal giant bats swooped low over demon ships and release the massive troll berserkers they had been carrying - like living missiles these hulking brutes punched through the armored hulls of dreadnoughts and dire wraiths, rampaging through the ranks of troops held inside. Every time a demonic vessel broke apart, the shining warriors within would leap to another, sailing across the void unerringly to their target. Even if a ship detonated in a blast of fel flame, most of the hardy starlight beings would survive, swept up by their comrades astride flying mounts and ferried to new targets. All across the battle-lines, the demon ships began to founder and crumble, unable to match the primal fury of Azeroth's earliest children.

With the Legion's demonic vessels ripped from overhead, Azeroth's forces re-doubled their efforts, surging forwards without demonic artillery slowing their advance. Knights and orcs, elves and dwarves were bolstered by mogu and vrykul and troll, swelling the ranks of Azeroth's army and striking back at the Legion on all fronts. A great saurian juggernaut of glowing light carrying a small army of troll warriors thundered forwards, its horns goring and tearing apart a towering doomlord. Vrykul warriors clamored atop friendly giants and hurled themselves at towering demonic brutes, splitting the fiends heads with their greatswords. A mogu warlord clashed with a ferocious annihilan pitlord, bringing his massive warspear down to cleave apart the demon's body. The pitlord detonated in an explosion of demonic fury, blasting apart many demons and several of the starlight warriors, but the great mogu strode on through the explosion unheeded, bellowing with laughter and calling for a greater challenge. Demons died in droves as Azeroth's arcane legions fought ever onwards. They would not stop, and could not be stopped.

Sargeras ground his teeth in frustration, his fel flames blazing hot. Despite the Burning Legion's greater numbers, Azeroth's forces had superior power, and his demons were being stalemated - indeed, they were on the verge of breaking. Sargeras gave the final command to his eredar - all forces were to engage at will. Nothing was to be held back. The eredar themselves were to commit everything to this battle, leading personally. The demon hordes still poured forth from the Twisting Nether with no sign of stopping, but Sargeras knew there was only one way this battle would end, and that was if he ended it himself. Even as the Legion surged forth to engage Azeroth forces, Sargeras brandished Gorribal and gave a furious bellow. Spreading his fel fire wings wide, Sargeras charged forwards. His advanced took all present by surprise, including his own forces. Like an unstoppable juggernaut, Sargeras crashed straight through his own forces, his hate-fueled flames consuming millions of screaming demons, his thundering wings smashing apart hundreds of vessels and annihilating tens of thousands of flying fiends. With a sweep of his blade, Sargeras slashed through the bridges of fel and arcane energy that brought the foot-soldiers of both armies to face each other, unmaking countless demons and starlight warriors. Caught off guard by Sargeras's unexpected destructive charge, Azeroth barely braced herself in time to meet the Demon Titan's assault. The two Titans collided with cataclysmic fury, unleashing waves of fel and arcane force that shockwaved outwards to devastate both their armies. Fel flames devoured starlight warriors, while writhing arcane bands dissolved countless demons. Sargeras swung his blade again and again aiming for killing blows, only for it to ring off Azeroth's armor as her every movement turned lethal strike into glancing hit.

At last, Sargeras' hand closed around Azeroth's throat, black nails as vast as mountain ranges biting into his enemy's surface. Sargeras brought his blade up for a strike, and Azeroth's hand closed around his wrist, staying his attack. Sargeras snarled with fury as Azeroth's other hand crashed into his face, taking hold of his horns and forcing him back. The two Titans wrestled hanging in the aether, each trying to overpower the other. Fel green flame from Sargeras' body washed over Azeroth, dimming her arcane brilliance. Sargeras grinned, sensing that his victory approached, and bellowed an order to his Legion. Swarming forth from behind Sargeras came a storm of demons, millions strong. They had followed in the wake of their master, and now poured forth onto Azeroth's surface, swarming like insects to attack her directly. Eredar diabolists called forth storms of infernals to crash across Azeroth's surface like a meteor shower, an army of demonic constructs that rose from their craters to rip apart at the very flesh of the Titan herself. Nathrezim sorcerers landed in gleaming arcane forests and conjured forth hordes of demonic locusts and vermin to devour the glowing foliage. Felguard set to cutting down shimmering trees with fel iron axes. Demonic vessels, dire wraith troop carriers and destroyers, plunged through Azeroth's atmosphere and crashed into her surface like needles, disgorging hordes of ground troops and firing wildly with fel cannons. Mo'arg and wrathguard hacked at white mountains and cracked open canyons exposing the arcane blood of Azeroth beneath the surface. Pitlords howled and tore at their own flesh, spilling fel blood into Azeroth's wounds and filling them with corruption. Azeroth's voice rang out in pain as the demonic pollution ate into her body and her arcane power. Sargeras' grin widened, relishing his enemy's suffering. He began to speak to her, telling her of how he would destroy her, how he would snuff out the light of hope she had kindled in the universe and wipe out the folly of the Titans once and for all.

With a crack like a thousand thunderclaps, Azeroth snapped off one of Sargeras' horns. The Demon Titan shrieked in agony, his grip on Azeroth loosening slightly. Azeroth gave a flex of continental muscle and broke free of Sargeras' grip, slamming a fist like a crashing comet into the Demon Titan's face. Knuckles like mountain-ranges crashed into Sargeras' visage, geological features crumbling under the blow and spilling out molten fel blood. Sargeras reeled back, clutching his broken brow and glaring at Azeroth between his fingers. Azeroth glared back, her body marred with cracks and wounds from the demons attacking her surface, but still strong and defiant. With a flick of her wrist, she sent Sargeras' broken horn spinning off into space. Both Titans were wounded, but they had only just begun to bring their full power to bear against one another. The battle was far from over.

Sidebar - The Prince of Light and the Knights of the Storm


Leading the human forces of Azeroth's starlight armies was the Prince of Light. A luminous avatar of cosmic radiance, the Prince shone with the sacred Light of Creation, the font of all life in the cosmos.Mounted on an astral gryphon made of starlight, the Prince flew to wherever the forces of Azeroth needed him. When his light fell upon the beleaguered warriors of Azeroth, their strength and fervor was restored, their fear banished, their spirits uplifted. When it fell upon the demons of the Burning Legion, the fiends withered and burned, forced to flee lest they be reduced to ash. Beneath the starry wings of his mount rode the Knights of the Storm, avatars of chivalry and nobility, garbed in immaculate starlight armor, with brilliant arcane lances and impenetrable enchanted shields. Demons were crushed under the hooves of their starlight steeds by the thousands. They followed their Prince, unwavering and unafraid, into the Legion's mightiest battle-lines. Never did the courage of Azeroth's forces falter when the light of the Prince was upon them, nowhere did the demonic fiends of the Twisting Nether taste victory where the Knights of the Storm rode. In his mortal existence, the Prince had sought peace with his enemies, and time and again he had succeeded and averted needless bloodshed and war. Though there had been those who had denounced him and called him weak for being a man of peace, countless more owed their lives to his steadfast devotion to an ideal of reconciliation and unity. In a world of war he had shone all people a better way. And when at last the time had come to fight, never had his own determination faltered. His spirit, brilliant and untarnished, was a beacon in the darkness brought by the burning shadow, Azeroth's torch-bearer. Nowhere in all the universe could the demons hope to find a darkness that the Prince of Light would not illuminate. And the Knights of the Storm knew true value of their Prince in this great battle, and they would follow him forevermore.

Sidebar - The Wolf and the Warrior


Throughout orcish history, since its very dawn on the world of lost Draenor, the legend of the Wolf and the Warrior has been told and re-told time and again. Every expression of orcish culture, every tribe and clan, had their own version of the tale. The orcs of the Last Age tell it thusly - When the demons of the Legion overwhelmed Orgrimmar and forced its evacuation, many brave and celebrated warriors remained behind in the city to cover the retreat of their people. None was more venerated than Varok Saurfang, High Overlord of the Horde. Legions of nightmarish horrors surrounded the brave orc, only to be hewn apart by his great axe. As the last of the orc refugees fled the city, Saurfang vanished beneath a tide of fiendish demons.

The last few witnesses to the great warrior's fall also tell of the miracle that happened moments later - a great howl echoed across the land of Durotar. From within the Legion's own ranks erupted a mighty and terrible beast - a giant wolf, larger than the great mounts of the orcs, its fur glowing like grey moonlight, its eyes ablaze with divine fury. The wolf tore through the demon armies until it reached where Saurfang had fallen, and when its paw touched the fallen orc, the light that surrounded it seemed to flow around Saurfang's body. The orc rose shakily to his feet and clambered atop the back of the great wolf, who bounded off through the ranks of the Legion, vanishing like the mother moon covered by a dark cloud. Varok Saurfang was never seen again - his body and armaments were never recovered.

Those who tell tales of Saurfang's fall also speak of the legends that began soon after. Throughout the world, from the Nightmare-infested lands of Kalimdor, to the blighted battlefields of the eastern kingdoms, to the frozen wastes of Northrend, wherever the Horde forces teetered on the brink of defeat against truly wicked foes, a powerful orc warrior riding a mighty grey wolf would suddenly appear, axe in hand, ready to slaughter the forces of evil and win the day for his people. And when the battle had ended, in inevitable victory, the warrior would ride off astride the great wolf with nary a word.

Sidebar - The Titan's Butchers


When the Legion finally returned, the mogu were ready. They had heeded the word of the Black Dragon King, the Storm-Eater, He Who Would Reign for a Thousand Ages. The Black Dragon King, who had returned them to the true path of honor, the service of the Titans. Who had returned them to glory, to the dominion over the lesser races. The Black Dragon King, who had torn out the heart of the hated mantid infestation, who had broken the August Celestials. A new age of prosperity had come to the sacred lands of Mogu'Shan, the empire's previous name banished from memory forevermore. Those who had not fled had died. All who came upon them died. The world learned to fear its mightiest children. When the Legion came, the mogu surged forth to war in their thousands, a great army not seen since the first age of the Thunder King. They did not break. They could not. The demons came and the demons died. Great Mogu'Shan held, inviolate, impregnable, even as all other lands burned and the sky turned black with the smoke of ruin. When at last the Final Titan awoke, the mogu still numbered thousands, and they roared in celebration as the heard the Final Titan's voice. Their ultimate purpose fulfilled. Their duty complete. The Final Titan took every one of them into her great soul. Within her, they slumbered and dreamed. There would be more battles, and soon. Soon the mightiest soldiers of the Titans would be called to war once again. Soon they would march to war. Without mercy. Without pity. Without weakness. All who stood before the Titan would perish screaming beneath the blades of her butchers.