(2023-12-04) A Confusion of Kings (S12 E4 - White Squad Log)

Details

Author:	inkie
Summary:	White Squad, hot on the trail of Norgannon's Core, makes several other disconcerting discoveries along the way.
Rating:	M for Mature 17+

Arc: Season 12

[Auralind]: Feeling well? It would be understandable if you are not so accustomed to… how do you humans put it? Toughing it?

[Ben]: Oh, no, ma'am, I am plenty accustomed to toughin' it. Just — I mean, the cold is kind of a lot, yeah?

Ben is ruddy with the cold, his cheeks and lips chapped. He's wearing his scarf and has a leather coat draped awkwardly over his armor.

Auralind nods. "This seems the coldest place we have encountered yet in this frozen land."

Brannagen greets everyone with a hearty hello!

[Auralind]: Elune adore, Prospector.

[Brannagen]: Lo there ser. Mistwalker.

Oranna waves.

[Ben]: Bran, Miz Oranna, hey.

[Auralind]: Ishnu alah, Oranna.

[Ben]: … an' Befound, ma'am.

Brannagen smiles at Oranna.

Ben nods respectfully to Befound, and then to Thaerukal for good measure.

Auralind gives Befound a warm smile.

Befound blinks slowly at Ben, but does not attempt to entice for belly rubs. She seems less inclined to pretend she is a housecat today, for some reason.

[Oranna]: Hullo. Ishnuh-alluh, Auralind.

[Ben]: Soon as Ace is up an' at 'em we will get to work, here. I am hopin' we can catch Mr. Bronzebeard back at his communicator thing today.

Brannagen 's eyes light up.

[Oranna]: He's no' been answerin' then? It's probably no'….I mean, he seems th' type ta wander off, an' no' remember his…no' tha' there's anythin' wrong with wanderin'! We…we wander.

Ben nods solemnly at Oranna.

[Ben]: I reckon he is explorin' shit. On account of, y'know. He does. That.

Oranna nods. Yes. That.

[Auralind]: If he survived as long as he already did on his own, I am confident he is still out there.

[Brannagen]: He gets real focused on a theng an' forgets that there are, y'know… people.

Oranna sighs heavily. He definitely does that.

[Ben]: But anyhow, Bran here laid hands on a thing we think might be the disk Mr. Bronzebeard is after? So once we are all assembled, we will try to contact him again.

Oranna looks over curiously at Bran. "Oh, aye?"

Brannagen waves a disk around.

Definitely a diSk. Brannagen does not wave a dik around.

[Ben]: Oh, an' here she is. Hey, Ace.

Oranna waves hello to Ace.

[Ben]: We was just discussin' that Bran found a thing this mornin' he thinks is the disk Mr. Bronzebeard is lookin' for. So we are gonna try to contact him again.

Brannagen waves the DISK around enthusiastically.

[Ben]: Let's go on down here so we can show him it.

Oranna glances around warily.

Ben sets the communicator on the floor in the precise center of the star-like carving, just on principle.

[Brannagen]: Nice.

[Ben]: Bran, you know how to activate hi– it?

[Brannagen]: Aye!

[Brannagen]: Ready?

[Ben]: Ready.

Brannagen greets Brann Bronzebeard with a hearty hello!

[Ben]: Hey, sir? You are there?

Brann Bronzebeard says: Eh? What? I’m here, aye! Did ye find the disk?

[Brannagen]: Aye!!

Brannagen waves the DISK.

Oranna once again looks at the snow falling, a frown deepening the worry line in the middle of her forehead.

Brann Bronzebeard says: Wonderful! Now that we have it, ye must use it to open the Inventor’s vault!

[Brannagen]: Okay but hoew?

Brann Bronzebeard says: D'ye see any… consoles, or the like, lad?

[Brannagen]: Aye, we do!

[Auralind]: Is that what that is…?

Brann Bronzebeard says: Go on, then! Fit the disk in and let's see what happens!

[Brannagen]: Will do, ser!

[Brannagen]: Ach…

[Ben]: Ach?

[Brannagen]: Brann, I'm afraid there's no proper openin' ta fit me disk into.

Brann Bronzebeard says: … are ye sure? If the disk is formatted correctly — wait. By me late brother's beard! The disk must be blank!

Brann Bronzebeard says: That crafty Mimir must’ve hidden the information somewhere else. Do ye see anything like… a databank in the area?

[Ben]: A datab–

[Auralind]: What is…that?

[Brannagen]: Data's information, so a databank must be somethin' that stores tha' information.

Oranna raises a brow, looking around. Does she see anything like a databank in the area? Who knows. Not Oranna.

[Brannagen]: What would the databank look like, ser?

Brann Bronzebeard says: No doubt a polyhedral object surrounded by a cage of light!

[Oranna]: Oh!

[Brannagen]: Polyhedrons!

[Ben]: Oh! The polydrons!

[Brannagen]: Aye, we saw some o' them.

Oranna nods.

Auralind blinks. What strange Common are they speaking now?

Brann Bronzebeard says: Brilliant! Go and use the disk on all of them ye can find!

[Oranna]: All of them?

[Brannagen]: Yes ser!

Brann Bronzebeard says: Aye, all of them! Never know which is the data we need! After you’ve tried your hand at that, contact me again and let me know what you’ve found. Meanwhile I’ll be trying to track down the other half of the archive key.

Oranna sighs at Brann Bronzebeard.

[Brannagen]: Yes ser!

[Ben]: Okay, yessir.

Brannagen paces restlessly.

[Brannagen]: I shoulda tried it on those polyhedrons! Silly me…

[Auralind]: Yes. Silly. Now…what is a polyhe– what is that?

[Brannagen]: A many sided shape.

[Brannagen]: Like dice.

[Brannagen]: Lotsa flat surfaces.

[Auralind]: Ahhh…

[Ben]: See how they are kind of… shinin' a beam of light at 'em? I reckon that is how we need to do.

[Ben]: They must be doin'… data stuff. With the light.

Oranna nods at Ben.

[Brannagen]: The disk will probably do it on its own.

[Oranna]: Of course.

Brannagen holds up the disk toward the polyhedron.

A beam of red light leaps to life between the disk and the hovering geometric object. It channels for several seconds and then winks out.

Ben watches Bran respectfully. "Anything?"

[Brannagen]: I canna tell if there is any data on the disc now, but the light show is convincin'.

[Brannagen]: Let's do a few more.

[Ben]: Okay.

[Brannagen]: Woo hoo!

I missed a line here.

[Brannagen]: Seems so, Mistwalker.

[Brannagen]: An' I think they're puttin it on this disk.

[Auralind]: Astonishing.

Brannagen 's disk BEEPS.

Ben jumps.

[Brannagen]: Oh… it made a noise.

[Ben]: … what for?

[Brannagen]: I dunno.

[Brannagen]: Maybe it's full? Should we check it?

[Ben]: Uh. You got the communicator?

[Brannagen]: Aye.

They re-summon the projection of Brann Bronzebeard.

[Brannagen]: Ser, the disk bept.

Brannagen peers at Brann Bronzebeard searchingly.

Brann Bronzebeard says: It bept, ye say?!

[Brannagen]: Aye!

[Oranna]: Was it supposed ta beep?

[Brannagen]: I think maybe it's full noew!

Brann Bronzebeard says: So it worked! At least we can count on Mimir to be systematic. Can’t say that for the rest of these Keepers, from what I’ve been hearing…

Brann Bronzebeard says: But let’s focus! Norgannon’s shell is within our reach!

[Brannagen]: Who's Mimir again?

[Auralind]: And…Norgannon?

[Brannagen]: Oh, well Norgannon I know.

[Oranna]: He's the one we…met? I suppose, in Uldaman.

[Oranna]: Norgannon, I mean ta say.

Brann Bronzebeard says: Mimir! Or Mimiron, well — he’s one o' the Titan Keepers, master o' the Temple of Invention!

Brann Bronzebeard says: These little mechanical attendants are his servants, but I've no idea where the Keeper himself has got to.

[Brannagen]: An' Norgannon is… master o' disks.

Brann Bronzebeard says: … right, we'll go with that.

Brannagen lets out a hearty chuckle.

Brann Bronzebeard says: He was the Keeper of Celestial Magic and Lore, but Master o' Disks is shorter.

Oranna snorts.

[Brannagen]: Aye. All the lore goes on disks, apparently.

Brann Bronzebeard says: ANYWAY.

Brannagen shuts up and listens.

Brannagen fidgets, though. He looks like he's about to explode.

Brann Bronzebeard says: Take the disk back into the library's interior, to the console, and try to activate it now. I imagine Mimir stored more there than just Norgannon’s shell; there are probably enough schematics there to keep Ironforge’s engineers occupied for years!

Brann Bronzebeard says: Use the disk to recover the shell. Hopefully, Mimir hasn’t decided to put any more obstacles in our way.

Oranna takes a reflexive step back, in case of explosives nearby.

[Brannagen]: Use the disk at the console. Got it.

Brannagen whistles for Magni, practically VIBRATING.

To clarify, Bran’s gryphon’s name is Magni Bronzebird. He is not whistling for the actual King of Ironforge.

Back in the Library…

Brannagen holds the disk dubiously toward the console, not seeing a slot for it.

Oranna watches Bran, from slightly behind Ben.

Brannagen exclaims in surprise as the console opens up, revealing a hidden compartment, as though it can sense the data remotely.

[Brannagen]: Well aye, noew it fets.

[Ace]: Oh that's neat!

Inventor’s Library Console says: Inventor’s disk authenticated. Welcome back, Keeper Mimir.

Brannagen watches as stuff on the console lights up prettily.

Inventor’s Library Console says: Charging inventor’s disk.

Oranna makes a wary little sound.

Inventor’s Library Console says: Disk charging completed.

Brannagen cheers!

Inventor’s Library Console says: Preparing emergency protocol gamma.

[Brannagen]: Preparing… what noew

[Oranna]: Is…tha'….do we want tha'? Is tha' a thing we want?

[Ben]: Um.

[Brannagen]: Tha' sounds bad.

Inventor’s Library Console says: Emergency protocol loaded. Activating Archivist Mechaton. The archivist will release Norgannon’s shell once user’s identity has been verified.

Inventor’s Library Console says: Please have a pleasant millennium.

[Brannagen]: Oh. All righ' then.

[Brannagen]: Thank ye?

Ace turns around to watch for emergency measures.

Oranna looks nervously up at Ben. "Uh."

[Ben]: Uh, *Ben agrees.*

Brannagen also waits for a giant robot to smash them.

A giant robot appears, right on schedule. A giant… gnome. Robot.

[Brannagen]: ACK!

Archivist Mechaton says: Use of the Inventor's Disk detected. Emergency protocol gamma activated.

Archivist Mechaton says: Verifying status of Norgannon's shell.

[Ben]: … oh shit.

[Brannagen]: A giant robot!

Archivist Mechaton says: Norgannon's shell accounted for and secure. It will be available for transfer once user's identity has been verified.

Archivist Mechaton says: Standby to verify identity as Keeper Mimir.

[Brannagen]: Right!

[Oranna]: Uh.

[Brannagen]: Er, about that.

[Ben]: Whose identity are — oh.

Archivist Mechaton apparently decides that Ben bears the closest resemblance to Keeper Mimir, and zaps him with a blast of something, sending him stunned and reeling for a moment.

Archivist Mechaton says: Identity verification failed. User is not Keeper Mimir.

Archivist Mechaton says: The Inventor's Disk has fallen into the hands of an unauthorized user. Activating defense protocol.

Oranna unshoulders her gun rapidly.

[Brannagen]: Crap.

Archivist Mechaton says: Impostor must be dealt with. The Inventor's Disk must be recovered.

White Squad destroys the giant, millennia-old, no-doubt-priceless homicidal artifact.

[Ace]: Well!

Auralind lets out a long, drawn-out sigh.

[Ace]: That was bracing.

[Oranna]: Ye alrigh', Ben?

[Brannagen]: Well uh… that's one way ta retrieve the shell I suppose.

Brannagen peers curiously at the giant robot gnome.

Ben steps back from the robot corpse warily. "I think so? He just give me a shock."

[Ben]: Like a literal shock I mean. Not metaphorical.

Oranna nods. Machines do that.

[Oranna]: Oh, aye.

[Ben]: You got the shell, Bran?

[Brannagen]: Aye.

[Ben]: Okay. Let's let Mr. Bronzebeard know.

Oranna studies Ben's hair. Is it any worse than before? Oranna can't tell.

Valid.

Brannagen activates the communicator.

Brann Bronzebeard says: Well, don’t just stand there! Show me the shell!

Brannagen waves the shell entthusiastically!

Brann Bronzebeard says: That’s it! That’s the first half of Norgannon’s keystone! Well done, Cobalt Company! When I get back to Ironforge, I’ll have ye all inducted as honorary members of the Explorers’ League!

[Oranna]: I…an' AYE, we're all alrigh', despite tha' havin' activated Defense Protocol GAMMA.

Oranna mutters something else, low under her breath about PRIORITIES.

Brann Bronzebeard says: Defense Protocol Gamma, ye say? Did ye suffer any glaciation or mirrors?

[Oranna]: I…wha'? No?

[Brannagen]: Er, we're fine.

[Ben]: … just kind of a shock.

Brann Bronzebeard says: Brilliant!

Brann Bronzebeard says: … but this is interesting. I don’t see any locking mechanisms on the shell.

Brann Bronzebeard says: That suggests to me it may take more than just finding the other piece to combine the keystone.

[Auralind]: Meaning what?

[Oranna]: Is tha' bad? Or…good?

Brannagen shifts back and forth excitedly as he listens.

Brann Bronzebeard says: Take the shell back to the expedition leader, Lagnus, at Frosthold. Once he picks his jaw back up, he should be able to glean what the core looks like based on the shell, and maybe we can enlist the Frostborn to help find it.

Brann Bronzebeard says: I’m going to see if I can find out how to combine the two pieces. We’ll catch up once we’ve both made some progress.

Brann Bronzebeard says: Another thing — I’ve looked ye lot up since last we spoke. A good Explorer does his research. Cobalt Company! A hell of a research team, I must say. And, judgin’ from past exploits… maybe a diplomatic one?

[Brannagen]: That's right.

[Oranna]: Uhhh. Sure!

Brann Bronzebeard says: Fantastic. Ye see, there’s more to the Storm Peaks than Titan ruins, and the peoples that live here face a dire threat in the corrupted Keeper Loken and his minions.

[Brannagen]: Oh?

Brann Bronzebeard says: Loken sent his favorite servants, the iron dwarves, on a brutal campaign against all the creatures of stone. He expelled the Earthen from Ulduar, forcing them to take shelter on the face of a mountain west of here, where their battles with the iron dwarves rage on.

[Brannagen]: ahhhhhhhh…. it's all comin' together noew.

Oranna frowns heavily.

Brann Bronzebeard says: Imagine the secrets of the Keepers we could learn from them! Imagine the ancient knowledge to be lost if Loken and his iron dwarves succeed!

[Brannagen]: Aye.

[Ben]: … sorry, who is Loken?

Ben looks between the Bran(n)s.

[Brannagen]: I'll explain later.

[Ben]: … okay.

Brann Bronzebeard says: Would ye be willing, Cobalt Company, to send a delegation to Bouldercrag o’ the Earthen? Not right now, of course. Right now we’re hot on a trail!

[Brannagen]: Sure!!

[Ben]: Yessir. I will let our Cap'n know, too.

Brannagen nods at Brann Bronzebeard.

Brann Bronzebeard says: Brilliant! I'll talk to ye all soon, I hope!

[Brannagen]: Aye!!

Brann Bronzebeard says: Bronzebeard OUT.

Brannagen sighs wistfully.

Oranna sighs.

Oranna is not as wistful, more slightly exasperated.

[Ace]: I…this is incredible. I never dreamed anything like this.

[Brannagen]: Okay, so, Loken. Nutshell version.

[Brannagen]: Ye know what Keepers are, aye?

Ben listens intently to Brannagen.

[Brannagen]: Remember that giant lass in Uldaman tryin' ta stop us from gettin' in the back room?

[Ben]: They are… Titan fellows. Uh, assistants?

[Brannagen]: Aye.

Oranna nods.

[Brannagen]: Big scary assistants.

[Ben]: Okay, yeah. With you so far.

[Brannagen]: Loken was one, et seems. But he's turned.

[Brannagen]: He's the one made or otherwise deployed the iron dwarves.

[Ben]: Turned? By… the Lich King, or… ?

[Brannagen]: Well, that we dinna know. Maybe?

Ben nods slowly.

[Ben]: An' this Mimir one is… gone, Mr. Bronzebeard said. But his stuff's still workin'.

[Brannagen]: Aye.

[Brannagen]: But Loken is apparently still out there.

[Oranna]: We saw one o' them Keepers workin' with the Iron Dwarves. Bran's cousin Walt sent us after investigatin' the dig site they'd been at. They were talkin' about somethin' real strange.

[Brannagen]: I think some o' you lot even saw a projection of 'im a while back.

[Brannagen]: Talkin' ta the iron dwarves.

Ben peers at Oranna.

[Ace]: Yes! In the Fjord.

[Brannagen]: I read somethin' about it in yer files?

[Brannagen]: That'd be Loken.

[Ben]: I seen a report, yeah, in the — oh, that was him? OH SHIT WAIT.

[Brannagen]: Bad guy, very large probably.

[Ace]: Yeah.

[Ben]: I knew I known the name! I talked to him one time!

Oranna looks back up at Ben.

[Ben]: I mean, kind of.

[Brannagen]: You what??

[Ben]: In Grizzly Hills.

Brannagen is all ears.

[Oranna]: Oh. Aye? Uh…kind of?

[Brannagen]: What'd he say?

[Ben]: There was a projector thing, like this one. We was disguised as iron dwarfs.

[Brannagen]: Aye! Tha' must be the report I read!

[Brannagen]: So he's tryin' ta destroy the Earthen for some reason an' Titans know what else.

[Ben]: Okay, yeah, so.

[Brannagen]: An' the iron dwarves are his lackeys.

Oranna nods slowly. "Alrigh'…an' so…they're fightin' out there."

[Ben]: Okay, let's go back to the Frostborns and see Magnus.

[Ben]: Norgannon's thing first, then this Earthen stuff.

[Oranna]: Eh, Lagnus.

Brannagen nods.

[Ben]: … Lagnus.

[Ace]: Titans and Keepers!

Brannagen cheers at Ace!

[Brannagen]: Ach, we're so close ta some real answers…

Brannagen is vibrating again.

They fly back to the Frostborn enclave.

Oranna gets off her gryphon a little unsteadily, uncleching her fists from tight grips.

Brannagen gives Ace an excited little nudge with his elbow.

Lagnus says: Hallo again, Stillwall and friends!

[Ben]: Hello, sir.

[Auralind]: Ishnu alah.

Oranna waves back.

[Brannagen]: Hold onta yer trousers.

Lagnus raises his bushy brows.

Oranna looks again at the suspenders. Is this a regular problem for this guy?

Brannagen holds out the shell of Norgannon.

Lagnus says: By Muradin’s beard! Is that what I think it is?!

[Brannagen]: If ye thenk it's the Shell of Norgannon, then aye.

Lagnus says: Brann’s really outdone himself this time — and you too, for that matter! The boys at home are never going to believe this!

Brannagen beams.

[Ben]: He told us you might know what the core looks like? From how it looks?

Lagnus says: I can see — aye, I can see exactly what the core must look like. If any of the Frostborn have seen it, they’ll be sure to recognize the description.

Brannagen cheers at Lagnus!

Lagnus says: There’s no time to waste, let’s get straight to business. Go talk to King Stormheart and request his aid. He’s sure to know someone who can help us find the core.

Lagnus says: But, uh — be nice about it. He’s very respected around here.

[Ben]: We are real polite, sir.

[Brannagen]: Oh, we get ta meet their keng! Brelliant!

[Auralind]: Of course.

[Oranna]: Why wouldn't we be…nice about it? Uh. I mean, of course we will be.

[Brannagen]: I hear nothin' but good thengs about 'im.

Lagnus nods approvingly. "Off ye go, then!"

[Brannagen]: I hear he's quite a warrior, so let's not make 'im angry.

Ben tries to fix his hair, which was not served well by the electric shock.

[Ben]: … okay.

[Oranna]: Are we like ta? Make him angry, I mean.

[Brannagen]: I dunno!

Ben hopes no one remembers the corpse-dropping.

[Brannagen]: Never met the fella.

[Oranna]: Well…aye.

[Brannagen]: …….

[Oranna]: Oh, he's no' — Uh.

Ben bows before Yorg Stormheart.

Yorg Stormheart says: Ach, it’s the mighty harpy-slayers, if I’m no’ mistaken!

Oranna clears her throat awkwardly, and tries for a curt– uh, a bow. She goes for a bow, halfway through.

[Auralind]: We are.

Brannagen rubs his eyes, tilts his head.

Ben squints at Yorg Stormheart. He opens his mouth and then closes it again. He nods.

[Ben]: Sir, Your Majesty? We are lookin' for a thing called Norgannon's Core. The Explorers said y'all might know about it?

Oranna is very openly staring at Yorg, very obviously finally piecing together why the other guy mentioned to not mind his peachy skin tone.

Yorg Stormheart says: Norgannon’s Core? Never heard of it. I might know someone who has, though.

Yorg Stormheart says: But first things first. I be more than willing ta lend my shelter and home ta travelers in need, but I’m nae too keen ta force my people inte yer affairs.

[Auralind]: That would be most helpful.

Brannagen looks at Oranna like, 'I'm not crazy, right?'

Oranna looks back like 'if you are, then I probably am, too.'

Yorg Stormheart says: I’ll tell ye what. My people are warriors, straight and true. On the day a Frostborn becomes a man, he has ta prove himself in battle. He has ta show us that he’ll not let size hold him back.

Auralind nods.

Brannagen gives Oranna a thumbs up.

Yorg Stormheart says: I know ye be warriors yourself, from what Stiffbeard tells me of your fight against the harpies. But look at the size of ye!

King Stormheart surveys Ben and then Auralind sternly.

Ben shifts his weight and looks guilty and also kind of confused about why he feels guilty.

Oranna glances back and forth between the two. Oh, they are…larger than normal people.

Yorg Stormheart says: A harpy’s hardly a challenge, I wager. Show me yer as strong and fierce as any of my men, and I’ll have them lend ye an ear or a blade.

Yorg Stormheart says: Speak ta Fjorlin of the stormriders, over by the cliff there, and he’ll put ye ta the test.

[Brannagen]: No problem, yer majesty.

[Auralind]: I accept your challenge.

[Ben]: Yessir, Majesty.

Brannagen rubs his hands together gleefully.

[Brannagen]: Heh heh heh.

[Oranna]: Is there…ah, well. We've got a healer with us, I suppose.

[Brannagen]: Aye.

Ben salutes and then bows, just in case.

[Ace]: Sounds like fun!

[Brannagen]: Try an' go easy on 'em.

Oranna doesn't look eager about fighting, but here we are.

[Brannagen]: Thes'll be a cinch.

[Ben]: … oh shit, we get to ride an eagle?

[Ace]: Excellent!

[Brannagen]: Nice.

Oranna smiles at Ben. Heyyy! He gets his wish!

Fjorlin Frostbrow says: Are ye on the King's test? All right, harpy-slayers, off we go.

They do, in fact, get to ride eagles. Their eagle-riding guide, Velog Icebellow, has a tale to tell en route.

Velog Icebellow says: King Stormheart is putting you to the test, eh? He must see something in you to begin with or I doubt he'd put you through such a sacred ritual.

Velog Icebellow says: I know you're new to our kind, so I'll catch you up a bit while we're on our way over.

Velog Icebellow says: Years back, my father and several other frostborn were returning from a trek across Dragonblight. There was a heavy blizzard… far worse than we've ever seen since.

Velog Icebellow says: They crossed a trail of blood-soaked snow and followed it to find a dwarf wandering and speaking in a dialect they couldn't make out… and not a dwarf of our kind mind you, but a mountain dwarf — something our kind had never seen before.

Velog Icebellow says: The dwarf seemed lost, having no memory of where he came from, or even of his own name. Not being the kind to leave a dwarven cousin to die in the snow, my father's party took him in and continued back towards Frosthold.

Velog Icebellow says: Not long later, out of nowhere, the snow burst before them and a jormungar the size of Veranus herself came down upon their party… one of them was swallowed whole before they even had time to react.

Velog Icebellow says: My father thought they were all doomed… but behind him, a furious roar rumbled across the snow, and he turned to see the mountain dwarf growing in size, his skin taking on a stone-like texture, and his hands sizzling with lightning.

Velog Icebellow says: The dwarf barreled forward with a sound like rolling thunder and hurled a shining metal hammer, lightning coursing over its surface, directly into the jormungar's throat.

Velog Icebellow says: The jormungar collapsed instantly, its head barely still attached to its convulsing body. My father turned to the dwarf in awe and raised a fist in praise…

Velog Icebellow says: The stranger having no name of his own, my father dubbed him "Yorg," a name reserved for champions of legend. Years later, he now stands before us as Yorg Stormheart, King of the Frostborn.

Velog Icebellow says: King Stormheart has trained us well… turned us into even more fearsome warriors than we could have boasted during the time of our war with the Frost Giants.

Velog Icebellow says: And as one of the fiercest tests put upon a warrior of the frostborn, we are made to face a creature far larger than ourselves — giants, dragons, jormungar — as a testament to the fact that size will never be our weakness.

The squad is set down by their eagles on a broken bridge high above a chasm. At the other end of the bridge stands a towering figure of iron inscribed with runes.

Velog Icebellow yells: This is the test put before you this day. Return to us only once The Iron Watcher is dead, and be revered as a warrior of the frostborn.

Velog Icebellow yells: He is slow from the rust of the ages… be quick on your feet and he will not best you. You have King Stormheart's favor — do not disappoint.

Brannagen looks utterly shaken by what Velog has told them on the way over. He's white as a sheet with pure shock.

Oranna is just shaking her head in disbelief, although she obviously believes it, a similar pallor to Bran.

[Oranna]: It has ta be? Doesn't it?

[Oranna]: Bran?

[Brannagen]: …who's gonna tell 'em…

Brannagen just stares at Oranna.

[Ben]: Y'all reckon? I kind of thought he looked like — I mean.

Oranna 's face is an open book, but that only applies to some of them.

[Brannagen]: Aye.

[Ben]: I saw the past vision thing. That was White Squad.

[Ben]: In Dragonblight. But —

[Brannagen]: No doubt in my mind.

[Oranna]: He looks jus' like I remember.

[Auralind]: What are you all talking about?

[Oranna]: I never saw him up close but…

[Oranna]: Their king. Yorg. Tha's…tha's Muradin Bronzebeard.

Auralind squints. "The one who was with Arthas?"

[Brannagen]: Aye. The one we thought Arthas killed.

[Ben]: He lost his memory.

Oranna nods. Unhelpfully.

[Ben]: But I dunno how we, uh.

[Brannagen]: He's — I was just gettin' over findin' Brann… all THREE Bronzebeards are alive???

[Auralind]: Are you sure? It seems a rather extraordinary tale.

[Brannagen]: I knew his face when I saw 'im. Thought I was goin' mad.

[Brannagen]: Until I heard the tale.

Ace just keeps shaking her head. "What do we do? Who do we tell? Do we tell anyone?"

[Oranna]: He looks like 'im. It's…th' timin' they're talkin' about. Aye. I thought…tha's real strange.

[Brannagen]: But look… friends…

[Ace]: The senate will go wild at this news.

[Brannagen]: If he doesna remember…

[Oranna]: But he doesn't know who he is, aye.

[Brannagen]: I thenk it would be a real bad idea ta force this issue.

[Oranna]: An'…if we tried ta take their king now.

[Oranna]: We've jus' allied with them.

[Brannagen]: He's safe fer now, and… aye.

[Ben]: Is it — oh.

[Brannagen]: What Oranna said.

[Brannagen]: We gotta see if maybe we can… help him remember? But gently. Not confront 'im.

[Auralind]: Agreed. Assuming this is true, this is a very delicate situation.

[Brannagen]: If he remembers on 'is own…

[Brannagen]: Then it's not us takin' anythin' away, see?

[Ben]: Maybe we will just — I can tell the Captain, in my report. Maybe she will know what to do about it. Ironforge politics an' all?

[Brannagen]: Aye.

[Brannagen]: But at least he's safe. Very safe.

[Ben]: An' meanwhile we just — okay, yeah.

[Brannagen]: He's got a whole people protectin' 'im.

[Oranna]: Maybe. We might…aye. King Magni did no' take s'well ta…well. Ye know.

Oranna shrugs for the whole Princess Plot.

[Brannagen]: Aye.

[Ben]: Well, he is real safe, but he wants us to kill that thing.

[Ben]: Sure is… bigger'n a harpy.

Ben points at The Iron Watcher.

[Brannagen]: Oh that we can do.

[Oranna]: Can we??

[Auralind]: Then let us do it.

Creaking echoes off of the nearby structures as the Iron Watcher comes to life.

They do, in fact, do it.

Brannagen dodges out of the way as it crashes to the stone.

[Brannagen]: No problem.

Oranna lowers her gun carefully. Apparently they can.

[Oranna]: Where do they even find those…

[Ace]: Piece o cake!

[Ben]: Piece of ca–

Ben grins wickedly at Ace.

[Brannagen]: I feel like we're cravin' cake.

Ace grins back. Bros.

Oranna chuckles, a little breathlessly.

Brannagen grins wickedly at Oranna.

[Ben]: I mean we been campin' in the snow for a week. I would not mind a damn cake

[Auralind]: I have never understoood that expression.

[Ben]: Reckon we better go show off we ain't dead. And, uh, not mention the other thing.

[Brannagen]: Right.

[Brannagen]: Oranna?

Oranna looks like she's bad at keeping secrets, but okay.

[Brannagen]: Can ye stand it?

Oranna cannot stand it. But she's trying. Look at her standing! Maybe if she just makes no eye contact with the guy.

[Brannagen]: Oranna, think real hard about how cute Befound looks when she pretends ta be a house cat.

They return to King Yorg Stormbeard. Stormheart.

[Ben]: You want to stay back some, Oranna? We can just go tell him.

Befound rumbles loudly.

Brannagen gently pats Oranna.

[Ben]: Uh, about the fight. Not about the other thing.

[Oranna]: It's…it's fine. I'll jus'.. I won't say anythin', an' think other thoughts.

[Ben]: Okay.

[Brannagen]: Atta girl.

Oranna is thinking about Befound as a housecat. Befound as a housecat. Befound as..

Yorg Stormheart says: Ye’ve come back to us! Have ye come back victorious?

[Ben]: Yessir we sure have.

Oranna is thinking about Befound as a housecat.

[Brannagen]: Aye, ser. Yer majesty, ser.

[Ace]: We have, Ser. Aye.

[Auralind]: The iron giant is felled.

Ben is trying not to stare, so instead he is squinting weirdly at the stonework behind the King.

Yorg Stormheart says: Ha! Well done! Perhaps some of ye lot have a bit of Frostborn blood in ye, eh? Yer not just talk, anyway, and that’s what I needed to hear.

Oranna is not making eye contact with Yorguraid. Murg Bronzeheard.

Yorg Stormheart says: So, I’ll tell ye: I don’t know where Norgannon’s Core is hiding, but ye knew that. I said I’d help, though, and that I shall.

Yorg Stormheart says: There’s a hermit by the name of Drom Frostgrip who lives in a cave north of here, down in the valley.

Yorg Stormheart says: We’ve strayed away from the Titans a bit ourselves, being that there are so few about, but Drom’s loyal to the old ways. He keeps an eye on their most precious places and speaks te the keeper Creteus often.

Yorg Stormheart says: Ye’ll find him deep in the cave. Tell ‘im I sent ye and he’s sure to help ye.

[Brannagen]: Thank ye, yer majesty.

Oranna is thinking just about Drom Frostgrip. Who is probably just a normal guy in a normal cave and not like, Oranna's long lost sibling or something, right ha ha that would be crazy.

Ace salutes Yorg Stormheart with respect.

Ben bows before Yorg Stormheart.

Oranna is saying nothing at all about whose blood of what is anyone, good job, Oranna.

[Ben]: Thank you, Majesty, sir.

Brannagen bites his own knuckles.

Oranna sags with the tension of saying nothing.

Brannagen lavishes praise upon Oranna.

Ben glances over his shoulder at a distant whistle from Fjorlin Frostbrow.

[Ben]: Reckon the eagles fellow wants to talk to us again.

Fjorlin Frostbrow says: Friends. Our scouts have spotted iron dwarves in the valley north of here. I overheard King Stormheart sending you to visit Drom, and I’m worried about the old hermit.

[Brannagen]: Ach!

[Brannagen]: Damn iron dwarves…

Fjorlin Frostbrow says: If you find any iron dwarves when you head down there, put ‘em down hard and fast for me, eh? I dun think they know exactly where we are or how to get here just yet, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.

[Brannagen]: Oh sure. Our pleasure.

[Ben]: Right. Yessir, we're on it.

Oranna nods, although she doesn't look like it'll be a pleasure.

The squad mounts up and flies down to the northeastern valley. There is a cave at the foot of a nearby mountain.

[Ben]: Reckon this is the cave? I ain't see any irons.

[Oranna]: Maybe he's cleared them out?

[Auralind]: There are beings in there…

[Oranna]: I mean, he's a hermit but…maybe he's good at…

[Brannagen]: "Beings"?

[Auralind]: It may be dwarves.

[Brannagen]: Real creepy when ye say it like tha'.

Oranna looks like she agrees.

[Brannagen]: Crap.

Brannagen sighs at Stormforged Pillager.

[Ben]: … oh.

[Oranna]: Ach.

They kill the Stormforged dwarf, and another half-dozen of his fellows as they advance into the cave. Partway down a corridor, they happen across a vein of gleaming, dark metal.

[Oranna]: Oh tha's…

[Oranna]: Tha's tha' stone, isn't it? Saronite?

[Brannagen]: Aye.

[Auralind]: The whispering stone?

[Brannagen]: If ye hear any whispers, uh, ignore 'em.

[Ben]: Stay aside from it.

Ben stays aside from it and definitely does not mine it.

[Ace]: It lies.

Oranna stands aside of it.

[Brannagen]: Aye.

[Oranna]: Oh, ah.

[Oranna]: Aye.

[Brannagen]: It'll tell ye stuff like "Yer ma doesn't remember ye, may as well stay in the frozen lands ferever"

[Oranna]: Well…she's dead, so…

[Ben]: … yeah.

[Ben]: It will tell you not to trust your friends, an' shit.

[Brannagen]: Huh, never said that ta me…

[Oranna]: Well, tha's….a little weirder.

[Ben]: But don't. I mean, do. Trust your friends.

[Ben]: Don't listen to it.

[Auralind]: No whisper will break my trust in my friends.

Oranna nods. "Damn straight."

Brannagen has the look of a man suddenly realizing he doesn't really… have friends?

Oranna is your friend, Bran.

[Ben]: Hey!

The Frostborn dwarf lies in a sheltered niche at the very depths of the cave, curled around a still-oozing wound. His breathing is labored and shallow.

[Brannagen]: Oh no…

[Oranna]: Oh, no.

[Auralind]: Prospector, he seems hurt.

Brannagen rushes over to heal.

[Oranna]: How long has he…

Drom Frostgrip says: Eh? Who’s that?

Drom Frostgrip stirs weakly.

Oranna closes her mouth, biting down on her lower lip.

Ace kneels before Drom Frostgrip.

[Brannagen]: There ye go… easy noew…

[Ben]: We are friends, sir, from King Br–Stormbeard. Heart.

Oranna nods in support. "King Stormheart, aye." That's what Ben said.

[Ben]: Bran here is a healer.

Ben glances anxiously at Bran.

Brannagen does his best, sending waves of light through the man.

Oranna watches worriedly. She does not look like she's confident this guy is gonna make it.

[Brannagen]: Ach, sorry, I'm no' a' me best when comin' across old set-in wounds like thes.

Brannagen keeps trying.

Drom Frostgrip says: Ahhh, the wound is — how many hours has it been? Days? But… thank you, friend. That… seems to ease it. Perhaps… I have a chance?

Brannagen gently pats Drom Frostgrip.

Drom Frostgrip stirs again and tries to sit up in the snow.

Oranna gives Drom a weak smile. Maybe you have a chance, buddy!

[Brannagen]: Ye all righ'?

Drom Frostgrip says: King Stormheart sent you to check on me?

[Ben]: Actually, sir, uh.

[Ben]: We are lookin' for a thing?

[Brannagen]: Yer keng sent us abou' Norgannon's Core.

[Brannagen]: He didna know the iron dwarves were here.

Drom Frostgrip says: Norgannon's… I never found Norgannon’s Core — but I’ve often spoken to the keeper Creteus, and his omissions give him away.

Brannagen whips out his journal immediately.

[Oranna]: His…his wha'? Oh. His…aye.

Drom Frostgrip says: You’ll find Creteus over the mountains to the east, in the Foot Steppes, keeping watch on the Engine of the Makers.

Drom Frostgrip says: The core might well be in there, but you’ll need to win Creteus’s favor.

[Brannagen]: Engine… o' the… Makers…

[Oranna]: Does he…like anythin'? Cake, or…?

Brannagen scribbles.

Oranna 's mind is still on cake.

[Brannagen]: Always wi' the cake…

Drom Frostgrip says: The iron dwarves were here looking for something. It might well be the Core. They took my ring. Find their leader, get my ring back, and show it to Creteus so he knows I sent you.

[Ben]: Your ring. Okay.

Brannagen hands Drom a few potions.

[Brannagen]: Take these while we're gone, aye?

[Brannagen]: See if tha' helps.

Drom Frostgrip nods weakly at Bran. "Thank you, friend. Be safe."

[Auralind]: By Elune…now I am craving a nice, warm, spider cake.

[Ben]: A spider… uh

[Brannagen]: Spider's no' bad, actually.

Auralind nods at Brannagen.

[Brannagen]: Slippery!

[Oranna]: It's a lil gooey, sometimes.

[Oranna]: Think he'd like it?

[Oranna]: Drom, I mean. The hermit. An'…an' I guess the other.

[Brannagen]: Gooey's good.

[Ben]: Is it like a crab cake, kind of? Spiders an' crabs is related, ain't they?

[Brannagen]: They are not.

[Brannagen]: But they taste similar, aye.

[Auralind]: I suppose some taste similar, yes.

[Brannagen]: Crabs got a bit of fishy taste too.

[Brannagen]: Subtract the fishy an' that's a bit wot spider's like.

[Ben]: Oh. They ain't? But they got the legs an' all.

[Oranna]: Well, aye, but, ye canna jus' count —

As they are discussing the relative culinary experience of spider vs. crab, a Stormforged dwarf materializes from the cave’s darkness, accompanied by an iron golem of some kind.

[Ben]: WHOA.

Stormforged Monitor says: Halt. If the core is in your possession, please place it safely on the ground to avoid any damage it may incur during your elimination.

Stormforged Monitor says: Elimination will now commence. Thank you for your cooperation.

[Oranna]: I'm no' — no'…cooperatin'.

White Squad does not cooperate. They kill both the iron dwarf and his golem, and Ben collects a runed signet ring from the dwarf’s corpse.

[Brannagen]: People just never get tired of underestimatin' us, do they.

[Auralind]: It is a long-standing pattern.

[Ben]: It is on account we are the scrappy underdogs, sir.

[Oranna]: Well, it is a random cave far away from everyone. Maybe they dinna read newspapers out here.

Brannagen nods at Oranna.

[Ben]: Okay. Where he say? The Foot Steppes?

Brannagen nods at Ben.

As they fly across the snowy flatlands, Ben spots a distant, stony figure pacing.

Ben points at Creteus.

[Oranna]: Oh.

Brannagen bows before Creteus.

[Ben]: Um. Sir?

[Oranna]: Uh. Hullo. *Oranna waves. And then bows? Sorta.*

Creteus says: Hello, creatures of flesh. I am pleased that you have opted to utilize your linguistic capabilities rather than your blades in making my acquaintance. I have found that an increasingly rare capacity among your kind of late.

Oranna grimaces at the reference of being 'of flesh.'

[Ben]: Oh. We, uh. Drom Frostgrip sent us, sir.

Ben fishes out the ring from his belt-pouch to show the giant stone guy.

Creteus says: You have Drom’s ring? I assume Drom is not well if he does not introduce you directly. I am sorry to hear of that. Drom is a noble dwarf, if an inquisitive one.

Creteus says: On what business have you come, then?

Brannagen discreetly sketches the guy.

[Ben]: We are lookin' for a thing called Norgannon's Core, sir.

Creteus says: Norgannon’s Core is not at this location. I am not sure why you seek it, fleshlings, and I am equally unsure you know the purpose of that which you seek.

Creteus says: I request that you aid me before I consider extending my assistance. I have recently encountered knowledge of the watcher Thorim. His seat of power is currently contested, and his fate not yet determined.

Creteus says: This troubles me, for I do not know what has become of the other watchers. Utilize this databank to examine their temples to the northeast, and return the knowledge to me.

[Brannagen]: Yes ser.

Brannagen doesn't look like he needs his arm twisted to go gather more data.

Creteus opens his stony palm and a polyhedron materializes above it and floats down to join the group.

Oranna watches it warily.

[Brannagen]: Oh wow!

[Ben]: … whoa.

Brannagen stares at it, the glittering polyhedron reflected in his irises and making him look even more dazzled.

[Oranna]: He's like ta probably get better, if you — ah. Drom's probably gonna get better.

Creteus says: That is gratifying to hear, small one.

Oranna smiles up at Creteus.

Creteus says: Now follow the databank and ensure its safety.

The databank whirs and lifts off the ground, then begins to glide up and to the north.

[Ben]: … oh.

[Brannagen]: Ooooh.

[Oranna]: Oh well tha's…real shiny.

The databank leads them up and up, to the top of a column-crowned tower overlooking the ruins of the Titan city.

[Ben]: This is a watcher temple?

Brannagen sketches madly.

The databank drifts out across the terrace.

Oranna watches Bran to make sure he doesn't walk off an edge while sketching.

Ben points at a Mechagnome Laborer.

[Ben]: Careful.

[Auralind]: I feel this place thrumming with power.

Mobile Databank says: Temple of Invention verified to be intact.

Mobile Databank says: Mechanical servants appear to have turned against each other. Several attendants have been piled together in an unorganized manner.

Mobile Databank says: Remaining mechagnome guardians corrupted by unknown source.

[Brannagen]: Corrupted…

Mobile Databank says: Watcher Mimir verified to no longer be present. Analysis complete.

The databank glides off again, and the squad follows. This time it leads them to a barren tower-top where the corpses of several frost giants lie.

Mobile Databank says: Temple of Winter analysis commencing.

[Brannagen]: Winter…

Mobile Databank says: Temple of Winter verified to be intact.

Brannagen sketches as he listens.

Mobile Databank says: Temple guardians verified to be deceased. Sulfurous odor suggests that death resulted from a fire-based entity.

[Oranna]: Fire based?

Mobile Databank says: Watcher Hodir verified to no longer be present. Analysis complete.

[Oranna]: Like an elemental?

[Brannagen]: Hodir…

Brannagen makes all the notes.

[Ben]: Watcher Hodir? Is —

The databank whizzes off again. White Squad again goes in pursuit. The tower to which it leads them is taller than the other two, and its grand colonnade is looped with enormous, barbed chains.

[Oranna]: Ehh…

[Brannagen]: Ach, them chains…

[Oranna]: Aye.

[Ben]: Damn.

[Oranna]: I'm no' sure I like this one…

Oranna runs to keep up with the dang orb.

Mobile Databank says: Temple of Order analysis commencing.

[Brannagen]: Order.

Mobile Databank says: Temple of Order verified to be intact.

Mobile Databank says: No indications of struggle are present. No guardians are present.

Mobile Databank says: Watcher Tyr verified to no longer be present. Analysis complete.

[Brannagen]: Tyr!

[Ben]: You writin' all this down, Bran?

[Brannagen]: Aye!!

[Ben]: Okay.

The final temple to which the orb guides them is a rotunda at ground level, nestled in a bowl-shaped valley between eastern mountains. It appears to have been cracked nearly in half, the floor and a number of columns shattered. Dead trees loom and lean over the ruin.

[Oranna]: Well.

[Ben]: It's half broken.

Brannagen looks around.

[Oranna]: That's no' a good sign, is it?

Mobile Databank says: Temple of Life analysis commencing.

Mobile Databank says: Temple of Life verified to be damaged beyond repair.

Brannagen sketches as he runs after the thing.

Mobile Databank says: Temple guardians are no longer present. Plant forms associated with temple are deceased.

Mobile Databank says: Watcher Freya verified to no longer be present. Analysis complete.

[Brannagen]: Freya…

[Ben]: So we got four temples an' no watchers at 'em.

The team follows the gleaming databank back to Creteus in the steppes.

[Ben]: Sir? We are back with your — polydron.

Creteus says: Have you the knowledge that I seek?

[Brannagen]: The news is no' great.

[Oranna]: Well, no' if ye were seekin' their whereabouts, but we know where they're no'.

[Brannagen]: The keepers are all gone, ser.

[Brannagen]: An' the Temple o' Life is destroyed.

Creteus says: The news you bear is grave indeed. I do not know the fate of the watchers, but their absence spells dark times for all the lands of Azeroth.

Oranna sighs. Well. What else is new?

Creteus says: I shall examine the knowledge contained in the databank that you have returned and attempt to fully assess the situation.

Brannagen thanks Creteus.

Creteus says: But you have done your part. Return to me in time, little flesh creatures, and I will have the information that you seek.

Oranna looks squicked out to be referred to as a creature of flesh, but here we are.

[Brannagen]: We'll be back, ser.

[Ben]: Yessir.

Oranna nods. "Sure."

[Ben]: Y'all want to go back to the temple camp or to the Frostborns or where?

[Brannagen]: Up to you, ser.

[Brannagen]: I got wot I needed from the library.

[Ben]: I am gonna go let the eagles fellow know we killed them irons.

[Oranna]: I might head back ta see Drom. He's a hermit, so he's probably got stores o' things he's like ta need, but with everything…he might need some help gettin' it back in order.

Oranna would know. She's been a hermit before.

Ben nods at Oranna.

[Ben]: That is good of you, Miz Oranna.

Brannagen smiles at Oranna.

[Ben]: You gonna be okay on your own for that?

[Brannagen]: She's nae on her own.

[Ben]: … you an' Befound gonna be okay?

Oranna nods. "Oh aye, an' I'll no' be —" She laughs at Bran. "Aye. I've go' me lass."

Brannagen winks slyly at Oranna.

[Ben]: Okay.

Befound purrs loudly at Bran. Maybe you can pet her, Bran. Maybe it won't be a trap.

Brannagen does not.

Oranna waves goodbye to everyone. Farewell!

[Ben]: We will all meet up for next mission at the Frostborns, okay?

[Brannagen]: Aye!

Oranna nods at Ben.

Auralind nods.

[Ace]: Sounds fine!

[Ben]: Okay. Take care, y'all.

Brannagen whistles for Magni.

Again, that’s the gryphon, not the king.