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| Details |
| Author: | inkie |
| Summary: | Cobalt Company forces join their allies to liberate the besieged Wyrmrest Temple (and their comrades caught within). |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
The Alliance and Cobalt forces amass south of a Wyrmrest Temple under siege. Corrupted earth and water elementals encircle the massive structure, preventing the army's approach. To either side of the lines of elementals, mortal cultists hold twilight portals open, summoning more and more to the attack.
A massive gem-encrusted elemental strikes repeatedly at the base, which has already been fractured by the bombing of the Sanctums. With each strike, the temple trembles. It is only a matter of time.
The gigantic form of Deathwing circles the structure, waiting patiently for the moment the Aspects and their temple of unity will fall. Black and twilight drakes dot the air, engaged in battle with defending Wyrmrest drakes. Every so often, one falls from the sky – green, red, blue, bronze, black or twilight – to tumble lifeless in the snow below. In the distance, to the east and west, giant, shadowy tentacles can be seen lashing in the air, signs of the void-corrupted maws that have opened up to spill Old God monstrosities onto the surface of the Dragonblight.
Still, as dark as the moment might seem, the cavalry has arrived. Lord Devrestrasz, who had been riskily portaled out of the temple to bring word and direct the assault, stands alongside the Alliance and Cobalt forces in his visage form. Up in the air, keeping careful distance from Deathwing, is the Skyfire, the new flagship of the Alliance Air Force. Circling on the other side of the Temple is a smaller Horde zeppelin, dispatched from Agmar's Hammer.
The allies are gathered, and all that remains now is to break the siege.
Jo is there among the allies, wearing her Cobalt tabard proudly as she stands with her people.
Anareline is nearby, her armor cleaned and repaired since the intense battle with Fandral Staghelm, and the Cobalt tabard over all.
Over with the 7th Legion forces, standing with his EU, is Celaven Evensong, his usually gentle silver-eyed gaze sharp and focused.
A large number of Cobalt tabards are present and watching Jo for orders, including Prospector Brannagen Stillwall, lately of Blue Squad. Caspis stands near Anareline, and is also wearing a Cobalt tabard, though it looks like he may have just slapped it on a few moments ago without aid of a looking glass.
With the 7th Legion, Sergeant Zath Tyrrell stands, his glacier-blue gaze aimed upward and fixed on Deathwing.
Shun surveys the area as he arrives with the others. While he wears no tabard, a pin bearing the Cobalt's wings rests upon his chest.
His gaze falls upon Deathwing in the distance, narrowing his eyes at the sight of him. "Ideally, he will not impale himself upon that tower…" he mutters to Estel.
"He's fucking huge," Estel mutters back.
Shun grunts, "Yeah. He somehow seems bigger here than when I saw his corpse." With a shake of his head, he checks over his equipment, ensuring everything is in place.
Shine waits silently a couple of paces to the side of Captain Jo. He is also wearing his Cobalt tabard, and his dark blue dyed leathers. He watches the milling elemental armies impassively, assessingly. He does not look up at Deathwing.
Also with the 7th Legion cohort, Master Sergeant Sintha Fallon looks unwontedly serious, by which I mean she actually has her dark hair tied back today. She rests one gloved hand casually on the hilt of a long knife at her hip, and her amber-eyed gaze is directed grimly at the temple itself: the way dust cascades with occasional impacts, the way the ground beneath it shudders. Periodically she casts her gaze upward at the dragons.
Dane stands in his blue and gold armor, the wings of his helmet casting shadows in the snow behind him. His raiment has been recently cleaned, and polished. In one hand is Thunderfury, and in the other is his shield.
He wears a face of mundane hatred and rage as his gaze follows the elementals, the cultists, the soaring dragon fight over head. He slowly and audibly cracks his neck back and forth, left and right, his shield hand resting idly on the Lion Horn of Stormwind as he maintains a clenched jaw.
Brannagen, his white robe partially covered by blue tabard and ginger beard, sidles over toward Atley and follows the direction of his gaze. "Thes wasna the type o' party I was hopin' for this week," he says lightly, "but at least et's likely ta be memorable, aye?"
Dane shifts his gaze towards Brannagen, and stares at the dwarf for a long moment before he scoffs with dark amusement. "Aye. It ought to be."
Iphindra looks sadly at the top of the tower, as if expecting it fall at any moment now. Plants on her shoulders grab onto the floor. She stands near Dane. He's the big tough guy she's been following around, these days.
Anareline reaches over to touch Caspis's arm and says quietly, "We've faced worse, and we're still here."
Caspis nods gravely, his gaze wandering between Jo and the various dragons wheeling about in the skies.
Oranna holds a place near the back of the Cobalt Company crew, her tabard worn over a dark fur and mail armor set ideal for Northrend's climate, observing the state of the siege through her scope. She mutters something periodically at what she sees.
At her side, Befound s t r e t c h e s out to her full length, yawning hugely with a cat's uncaring bravado. Her fur blends in easily here in the snow and rock, making her periodically live up to her name: Can't Be Found.
Velrin stands next to Nylarria both surveying the battlefield. "I've never seen so much chaos centered in one place." Nylarria notes.
Velrin is surprisingly not buried in cloaks. The coming conflict must have her fired up. "This is where we make our stand for the fate of Azeroth…"
Baalun has decided to take himself back to the front for the occasion. He stands tall with his shining plate and massive hammer and shield. He is quiet for now, awaiting orders.
Taeavon swallows as he views the tense situation, "Looks like we've got our work cut out for us…" He comments to Thoridas as he rests on his shoulder. The dragonhawk hisses.
On her own, not with the Cobalt forces, Enaliya Nightwhisper eyes the many cultists across the battlefield like ripe grapes. Her lips curl into a grotesque smile as drool drips down the corners of her mouth at the sight.
Sandy levitates around among the group — a method of transportation less fatiguing with his prosthetic. He's pacing back and forth in anticipation, brushing his hands on his tabard nervously.
Brannagen, his white robe partially covered by blue tabard and ginger beard, sidles over toward Atley and follows the direction of his gaze. "Thes wasna the type o' party I was hopin' for this week," he says lightly, "but at least et's likely ta be memorable, aye?"
Cressidha, dressed in a blue and gold robe with her Cobalt Company tabard, adds an extra pin to her combat bun. She waits for orders.
Ralaea glares towards Deathwing, shifting from one foot to the other and back impatiently. "Why aren't we shooting him?" she demands.
"Because that would be a monumental waste of our resources," Almeiria, standing nearby, informs her. "Imagine he turns on us and decides to fry us before we even reach those holed up within the Temple."
"If we could simply shoot him out of the sky, this would've been a much shorter campaign," Jo says, her eyes following the dragon. "We need to trust the Aspects' plan."
"Why can't anyone just tell us the plan?" Ralaea grumbles. "Fine, okay, I await a flying bear."
"To use the Dragon Soul against him," Jo says, distractedly. "I've never seen that done, so I'm not sure what's involved. It seems like it takes some time to set up."
"We could attack his mind!" Sandy says. "He won't know where that's coming from!"
Caspis gazes at the various impetuous young humans, then at Anareline, looking somewhat dismayed.
"Sandy, lad, we're not exactly hidden in the snow here. He looks over his shoulder, and he's gonna guess where a mind attack's coming from. Breaking a siege that's entrenched like this requires force and timing. Otherwise ye're just breaking a wave on the shore," Oranna says grimly, still watching through her sniper scope.
Sandy nods silently. Right. They're not camouflaged in the snow. "Right. I'll try to remember that!"
Caspis gives a subtle, grateful nod toward Oranna.
Kyris ignores everybody else's suggestions, waiting on Jo. He looks grim, but he usually does.
Over on the 7th Legion's side, Captain Hall, a fair-haired woman with a crooked nose, speaks quietly to the 6th EU, making a point of firmly gripping the massive, beefy upper arm of Sgt. Saion as she talks. It works to hold the pale, black-haired draenei's attention, which may have been the idea.
Meanwhile Sgt. Tyrrell rips his gaze away from Deathwing to focus fully on Captain Hall. For whatever reason, she seems to avoid looking at Tyrrell directly. Even when he shifts abruptly into the form of a large, jet-black worgen with luminous blue eyes, she only glances reflexively at him before looking back at the others.
There is also a human mage there. Probably. No one really seems to pay him much mind.
The 6th EU is not the only unit present. The 7th Legion's uniforms are crisp, well-matched, and impressive looking, lending an air of Badass to the entire group.
Estel mutters something like, "Light, do the thing," to grant Cobalt Company's gathered forces Fortitude. It's a prayer, it counts.
Dane looks between his comrades and the battle ahead before he marches in front of all those assembled and turns his back on Wyrmrest Temple. He raises his voice and begins to pace.
"Stormwind. Mount Hyjal. Vashj'ir.
"These weren’t just attacks—they were messages. Messages from Deathwing, his elemental lords, and the cultists who follow them.
"They believe we’re weak. That we’re too soft, too afraid to stand against them.
"They think they can torment our children with nightmares, tear apart our lands, and slaughter our loved ones without fear—because we lack the strength, the will, to fight back.
"Seeing you lot fight and strive has given me a response. I say, 'No.'
"I say we strike so hard, so deep, that the memory of our wrath echoes for ten thousand years.
"I say these so-called gods and monsters should learn to fear us.
"I say NO!
"These curs have got it backwards.
"We are their nightmare. We are their reckoning.
"Not divided by race, or faith, or birthplace—but united by a common cause.
"Together, WE are The CATACLYSM!"
Kyris grunts approvingly. This man's got the spirit.
Near the front of the assembled is a familiar-to-some death knight. Roper's armor has evolved, looking more and more dangerous, and his Ebon Blade tabard marks him out, his two runeblades out in each hand, as he paces back and forth. Let's go. Let's go. Let's gooooooooo. is the unspoken. Yeah, yeah, he's the nightmare and the cataclysm. LET'S GO.
Velrin smiles at Dane with a mixture of affection and nostalgia and roars at the end of his little speech.
Nylarria shifts her stance a little bit, seemingly feeling Velrin's enthusiasm and smiles ever so slightly despite herself.
Taeavon clenches his fists and steels himself at the words.
Baalun closes his eyes and nods.
As if taking his own cue from Dane, Lord Devrestrasz points directly towards the temple. “All forces, attack!”
Velrin takes off immediately with Nylarria following close behind. The two fight as one being, blades dancing in perfect concert with one another.
The army charges forward into the first line of elementals, who do not hesitate to join the attack. Earth elementals toss boulders at the soldiers, a familiar tactic for those who fought at the Molten Front.
Dane raises the Lion Horn of Stormwind and sounds it at a deafening volume, a boom that shatters through the air, until he's red in the face. It only goes silent once he's charged into the nearest Earth elemental at full speed.
Iphindra claps for Dane. Then she's given the order to fight, and so she does. Her plants jump from her arms and latch onto an elemental's face, blinding him.
Shine seems to slip sideways and out of existence. A moment later he reappears behind an earth elemental, daggers flashing swiftly. He ducks a blow from the elemental next to his target.
Sandy takes a deep breath and turns into his shadowform. A shadow Sandy with ghostly horns and a tail made of tendrils floats toward an elemental. He swiftly flies around the rock the creature throws and explodes its head with shadow magic.
Anareline charges forward with the rest, dodging tossed boulders.
Jo travels in the middle of the group, casting fire.
Celaven moves forward with his unit.
Cressidha tosses out Marina's bracers. It's Azeroth, it's safer for her to fight here.
Ralaea charges in, blades slashing. "Your new name is Deathwing," she informs the elemental. "Until I end you."
A soft sigh escapes Shun as the chaos erupts. He rolls his shoulders, then vanishes from view. Time to get to work.
Similar to Shine, he could be seen reappearing here and there, landing precision strikes. For now, he doesn't stray far from Estel, dealing with threats that get too close.
Taeavon whistles to signal Thoridas to take off and he nocks his bow. He looses a few shots to disorient the enemy, then the dragonhawk strafes the enemy lines with gouts of flame.
Baalun chants his mantra a few times as he charges forward and he is wreathed in holy light.
The runes on Enaliya's chosen sword for the occassion gleam and she rushes in toward her prey.
Almeiria avoids the obnoxious boulders, calling powerful Words in Shath'yar as her Void magic assails the enemy.
Caspis, not the most aware of his surroundings under normal circumstances (which these are not), has had so much experience dodging elemental boulders by now that he seems to know exactly where to be so that they don't land on top of him. He moves quickly, for an old man.
Even as he moves, he keeps sending out pulses of regenerative energy to those near him — sometimes all at once, sometimes one at a time as needed. He remains in his elven form — a form which is at the moment completely bald, beardless, and bereft of eyebrows. He may even be unrecognizable to some.
Celaven double-takes on Caspis. He's clearly not used to seeing him like this.
Oranna starts shooting from her covered position, striking things from long range with complete focus, trusting in the forward fighters to keep the dangers off her while she snipes.
Brannagan stays as near his old pal as he can and still be able to reach the front line combatants with healing spells. As always, his spells have a slightly sparkling, festive appearance, a bit of a Light show among the chaos.
Estel rapidly throws out Shields to her allies, prioritizing the front-liners and then anybody who seems to be in danger of getting crushed by a boulder.
Over with the 7th Legion, Celaven is in his element, defending Tyrrell, Hall, Sintha, Saint and Crowley with shields and other barriers, light pulsing toward them when the barriers are not enough.
Ismene waits at the aid tent nearest the line of combat. She watches as the battle is joined. Flashes of gold and green and light tell her the frontline healers are doing their jobs, and she has only to wait. She hates waiting.
At the front, water elementals begin to spew acidic water that burns the skin.
Caspis scowls, the expression fearsome on his hairless face, as he suddenly finds himself doing less good for his allies with the same effort.
Marina burbles a warning in Kalimag, which is likely understood by very few people present.
Anareline flinches as the water splashes onto her, but doesn't let it stop her attack.
Shine twists away from a spray of corrosive water with a hiss. He vanishes again, and this time reappears on the hunt for softer targets; a Twilight summoner falls, blood pouring from a cut throat. Shine is already gone again, and then another summoner is bulge-eyed and scrabbling at a garrote wire.
Cressidha pulls up her ice barrier and maintains a healthy distance. She has to protect her robe.
Atley snarls disdainfully and raises his shield to let the acid slap against it as opposed to his face. He brings Thunderfury down on the nearest water elemental with a savage growl of exertion, eyes widened in rage.
The acidic water splashes on Sandy's prosthetic. He winces at first, letting out a gasp of pain. He blinks, then scoffs, then curses the elementals one by one.
Acid sizzles away at Kyris's tabard. Kyris makes a noise of irritation, but does not stop fighting the elementals.
Ralaea ducks behind Dane for a moment to rummage in her bag for a pair of goggles, pulling them on hurriedly, before charging back in. No eye acid for her.
Befound hisses as the acid strikes some of her fur. Oh, oh! Jail! JAIL!! The elementals get jail! And also claws.
Shun pops by a cultist, grabbing a hold of them and swings, shoving them directly into one of the acid jets to keep it from reaching allies.
Iphindra summons a bunch of treants to fight for her, the three trees treating their terrifying enemies as soil. Iphi gets hit by some of the acid, and cries in pain, a hand covered with soothing plants immediately reaches for the burned skin.
On the 7th Legion side, Tyrrell is like a worgen-shaped hole in the world that's spewing flame and chaos, his black fur like a gloomy singularity absorbing any light near it as unnatural bolts of orange, green, and purple flame spew from his clawed hands.
As the first line of elementals falls, the massive giant continues his direct assault on the tower. “No mortal shall turn me from my task!” Morchok bellows over the battlefield. The temple trembles again with a mighty blow from his fists.
An image of a blue dragon who may be familiar, Tyrygosa, shimmers into existence next to Devrestrasz. She is the dragon who attempted to befriend and help the Netherwing flight.
“They have broken our defenses!” the image says in near-panic. “The very earth turns against us in Deathwing's name. You must hurry… Wyrmrest falls as we speak. All… is lost.”
The image vanishes abruptly.
Ana looks over at the image, startled. "We must hurry. We cannot let the temple fall."
Cressidha looks quite neutral at the prospect of all being lost already. They practically just got here. She hurries. Ice coats the backs of her hands as her casting speeds up.
"Oh, good, all is lost, everyone go home now and await the end of the world," Almeiria snaps, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Tyrygosa yet lives!” Lord Devrestrasz says, clearly taking the most positive interpretation of that message possible. “We must press on, to the temple!”
Dane eyes Morchok up and down from afar, running his tongue along his upper teeth with a calculated hatred. His gaze briefly flicks to Tyrygosa before he growls and aims Thunderfury at the giant. "Bring it down!" He charges the elementals that still stand between the army and the colossus, Thunderfury's electricity trailing behind him.
Anareline looks for a moment like she might go and slap Almeiria, but she does not. Too many elementals to fight.
"What did she say?" Ismene demands of a soldier who was dead like, a second ago. "That dragon, what did she say?"
"She said the temple falls," he groans.
"Ben's in there!" With that as her only excuse, Ismene darts from the tent and wades into the line of combatants. She's not rash enough to try to pass them, but her healing spells shimmer and shine against the clash of combat.
“Cowards! Weaklings!” Morchok howls at the Temple tower. “Come down and fight or I will bring you down!” The next round of earth elementals set up a dust storm, biting grit and rocks that slice into the combatants.
This is where some eyebrows or eyelashes really would have helped Caspis. He cries out and throws a forearm across his eyes, his healing spells momentarily faltering.
Estel throws a barrier down over herself and other ranged casters, keeping the dust out.
Relieved, Caspis begins sending out regenerative waves of evergreen-scented energy once again. He himself remains in elven form, perhaps saving the tree for later?
Sintha, fighting with the rest of the 6th EU, does not have the shadow mastery of Shine or Shun; she moves with a nimble, preternatural grace, dodging and darting among battering elemental limbs, and sinking blades here and there. Her hair is soaked, and frost has gathered on her eyelashes.
The dust storm catches her off-guard and she twists, attempting to turn her face away from the clouds, until a protective barrier from Celaven finds her. She straightens and renews her attack.
A rain of felfire lands just close enough to the chilled Sintha that a blast of comfortable if unnatural warmth washes over her for a moment. Coincidental, surely.
Ralaea is now very happy to have put her goggles on. Take that, blinding dust. She picks a rock out of one of her armor joints, then powers forward to engage the elementals.
Iphindra slides onto the ground, her spear in hands. She covers her face with her arm, and when reaching one of the earth elemental, slices into it, rocks slowly falling from its body. A strong ray of sunlight hits a nearby group of water elementals.
Sandy shields himself before draining mental energy from a nearby elemental. A dark wave spreads from the target, hitting its nearby allies.
Kyris closes his eyes, nimbly dodging a blow from an earth elemental. His songblade starts up a war chant in Darnassian.
Anareline takes up the war chant in a low voice.
Brannagen is too absorbed in the overwhelming job of healing to make his usual merry quips, but whenever his spells touch a combatant there is a brusquely cheering feeling about them, like having one's cheek repeatedly smacked by an affectionate granddad.
Jo seems to take heart from the affectionate granddad heals, and gets her own mana barrier up to defend from the grit while she casts.
Auralind's arms burn with the ache of constant draws of her bow. But the battle continues and so must she. "Thaeru'kal, go and help keep Caspis and the others covered," she says to her spectral companion as she unleashes arrows.
Perhaps it is the mention of Caspis, or maybe just a need to cover distance quickly — Thaeru'kal's image shimmers as she takes on the avian form given to her by Aviana's blessing. The spirit owl soars over the heads of the allied forces, descending by Caspis to keep him covered as he casts spells.
Caspis's intense gaze immediately lights on the avian shape coming toward him through the air. He does not smile — that's not a thing Caspis really does that often — but there is a a softening of the scowling lines of his face, and a subtle exhale, a sense of a serene calm descending over him.
“Wyrmrest will fall. All will be dust,” Morchok yells. “I will turn this tower to rubble and scatter it across the wastes.”
"Aye, all will be dust," Brannagen mutters calmly, and a bit hoarsely. "But not taday."
“Advance to the front,” Lord Devrestrasz calls. “The siege must be broken!”
The elemental lines are thinning, the Alliance forces fighting in a new frenzy, goaded by Tyrygosa's despair or the giant's taunting.
Thunderfury takes gnarly, shrieking bites out of elementals with each slash. Dane beheads one and makes it collapse into a smaller, more acceptable pile of rubble.
Shine steps away from the crumpled form of a cultist bleeding out on the snow and shadowsteps to an elemental, satisfied that their numbers are no longer being renewed as swiftly.
Caspis is momentarily cornered by an elemental. He shifts into bear form and gives it a massive swat, buying time.
Dane skirts to a halt and sees Caspis get waylaid. He charges the elemental from behind to run it cleanly through with Thunderfury.
Caspis shifts back into elven form again. His bear form, thankfully, had hair. He solemnly says, "Shan'var…" and inclines his head toward Dane before returning his focus to his spellcasting.
Dane grunts and answers the nod with one of his own.
Shun presses forth, bounding between his targets. An elemental's fist catches him, sending him sprawling back. An array of knives fly out back at it as he rights himself.
"Nice work!" calls a ginger-bearded dwarf in a Cobalt tabard, who then slaps an extra renewing spell on Shun on his way past.
Shun grunts in response before stepping forward, sizing up the giant ahead.
Ismene skitters past a crumbling elemental, dodges a second one, slaps a heal on a faltering soldier, then skids to a stop as she sees Morchok far too close for comfort. She still has quite a line of fighters between her and the giant, but still. He's a giant.
A black worgen steps between her and the giant, blocking her view. Rude?
Breaks open in the elemental lines; dust and rubble litter the snow, and pools of acidic water melt into it. The way to the colossus before the Temple is clear. Morchok leaves off his attack on the tower and turns to face the combined forces.
Behind him, at his feet, figures emerge from the shelter of the temple arches. Some of them are dragons still in their visage forms. Some are familiar figures in Cobalt blue.
Sil waves frantically at the incoming forces, a relieved smile on his face.
Shun’s gaze shifts to the temple forces coming out to join the fray.
Ben shouts at the sight of approaching Cobalt tabards and lifts his hammer in the air, limned with Light. He looks weary, his hair and face and tabard grimed, but he too is aglow with relief as well as the literal glow of the Light; ragged wings spring to life at his shoulders as he charges out to join the offense.
Colson steps into the battle gracefully, his gaze finding Cressidha's as instantly as if they had already established exactly where the other would be at this moment. His hands are bright with the Light as he works to heal those he can see, each heal reverberating back to Ben's [Beacon of Light].
Cressidha looks directly at her brother, then at Sil, and raises a frost-glittering hand in a return wave.
Bran waves frantically at the emerging Cobalts. He knows those guys!
Dane sees Ben's hammer and wings from afar and raises the Lion Horn again, sounding it not just for foe, but friend. There's an angry streak of red blood slapped diagonally over his tabard and armor from bisecting a cultist in half moments prior.
Sil grins across at Cressidha, then at Dane. He notices the 6th EU and his eyes brighten further. Then he draws his swords to join the fight.
"Overdramatic dragon?" Ralaea asks, seeing the Cobalt team emerge from the temple. She looks relieved too, probably. It's honestly hard to tell around her scowl.
Ismene doesn't wave at anyone because there's a Worgen in the way. She doesn't seem inclined to step out of the shadow, either. She's fine here. This is fine.
“You seek to halt an avalanche. I will bury you!” Morchok stomps, sending a shockwave and a pulse of harm through the entire army.
Velrin eyes the colossus with a cruel grin. She likes a challenge. She readies her blades and gets ready to attack.
Dane narrows his eyes into slits, but he doesn't close them. All the while rocks and sand scrape at what little exposed skin he's charged into battle with, the shockwave rocking his entire body, the earth clanging against his armor from every direction. He issues a fierce battle shout and closes in on Morchok, striking at the giant's lower legs with Thunderfury.
Bran looks like he REALLY wants to bonk the giant with a stick. But he does not, and instead focuses on channeling a powerful healing spell toward his former squad leader.
The black worgen, strangely, seems to keep being directly between Ismene and the giant. It never looks at her or acknowledges her in any way, but its shadow continues to fall over her as it hurls felfire toward the giant.
Ben is rocked back by the shockwave, and turns his fury directly on the giant's… foot, blasting it with an explosion of Light, followed by a battering by a very real hammer.
Gwenivene squeaks at the shockwave and blinks to try to escape it. Not paying too much attention to where she was headed, she finds herself shoulder-to-shoulder with Sandy. "Oh…um…" It's all she can manage to say. There is a battle on, after all.
Sandy's shoulder is high up, as he's a floating, scary tendril shadow, which helps him avoid the shockwave. "Oh…" He tips his own wide, pointy hat. "Greetings." He then summons a shadow fiend. The creature crawls up to an elemental and bites at Morchok's foot.
The appearance of the shadow fiend earns an uncomfortable grimace from Gwen, which she quickly tries to hide under a smile. "Stay safe!" She turns her attention back to Morchok as three mirror image Gwens appear, all hurling arcane missiles at the giant.
"…Capital!" says a thin, tense male voice from somewhere behind Gwen as she seemingly splits into three Gwens.
The central Gwen glances back at the voice with a grin even as she conjures up a massive arcane blast for the enemy.
Shine vanishes again as the shockwave ripples outward toward them, and appears safely in the shadow of the tower, behind the giant's leg. His knives bite into the colossus's ankle as if to slash tendons. Do elemental giants have tendons? They do not seem to. It's probably still pretty annoying to the giant, though.
When the rumble of the shockwaves begins, a golden shield surrounds the giant black worgen, courtesy of the tiny (comparatively) human behind him. Ismene peeks around him as the shockwave passes. "Ben!" she yells. It… probably goes unheard in the chaos.
It seems Shun had a similar idea to Shine. He appears at the other leg for just a moment before he starts to make his way up from the shadows of this colossus.
Auralind braces herself for the shockwave when it becomes clear she cannot escape it, and finds herself throw off her feet, landing hard on her back. As she forces herself to her knees she gasps for air, the very breath knocked out of her.
"Why do they all have to be rocks?" Ralaea complains, weathering the shockwave. Her next few steps towards Morchok are stumbling, clumsy, as she tries to work the numbness from her legs. Eventually she picks up speed, avoiding the acid craters on the way.
Almeiria floats over the shockwave, though debris from it does strike at her shadowy form.
Ana, Celaven, Jo and Sil brace against the shockwave. Celaven's heals bounce around with a quiet chime.
A tiger-spotted cat streaks out of the temple, across the battlefield, and into the ranks of the army, where it becomes Wyriel, a green-haired kaldorei (or so she appears). Flowers bloom in the snow as she heals whoever she can, and she looks around rapidly to see who she recognizes.
Mordecai emerges from one of the temple entrances, later than the rest of his team. He has exchanged his excessively enchanted mace for a staff that might be familiar to attendees of the Stormwind Cathedral as once belonging to Archbishop Benedictus. He is out of range of most of his allies, and he waits until the latest crystal bursts before rushing towards Auralind.
“Flee and die!” Morchok cries, and he raises a hand, pulling a pulsing crystal up from the soil of the Dragonblight near a group of Alliance archers. They scatter away obligingly, as directed — and then just as obligingly die, as the crystal lashes out at them with chains of strangling shadow.
The giant summons another crystal and then another, springing from the snow in malevolent gleaming spikes. More soldiers attempt to scatter away; more soldiers fall to the snow.
"STAY PUT!" Ben roars at those closest to him. "Don't run!"
Iphindra was propelled back by the shockwave. After getting back to her feet, she loses a few flowers as the archers die. "That's not okay!" She screams at Morchok. She freezes as Ben commands them to stay put.
Dane echoes Ben's sentiments, gritting his teeth as he fights the urge to move. "HOLD!"
Brannagen stops short just as he'd started to rush closer to Iphindra to check on her.
"You tw-… three." Sandy sighs at Gwen. "And now there's four of them…" he whispers to himself. And now he's stuck there close to her because if he runs away he gets killed by an evil crystal.
As the archers fall, Ismene starts to step toward them but stops at Dane's command. Still, she doesn't need to be that close and she aims a Resurrection at the nearest archer.
Iphi looks at Bran. She bows her head in thanks.
Brannagen gives her a cheery thumbs-up, a bizarre gesture under the circumstances.
Iphi gives back a thumbs up. She beams. That guy's great!
Another crystal springs up closest to those striking at the giant's legs. It is dormant a moment, seeming to wait with an almost predatory intelligence. As Ben shifts around Morchok's leg, the crystal explodes in a shower of stinging shrapnel — but no shadows reach out, and no one dies.
Ben swears and staggers back from the explosion, bleeding from a dozen tiny cuts on his face. He renews his attack grimly.
Clang! A piece strikes Dane directly in his right temple, which is fortunately armored. Once the crystal's been 'detonated,' he returns to savagely striking at Morchok's legs, trying to keep his attention, ready to leap away to avoid getting squashed.
Colson's shield of Light encloses the healer before the shrapnel hits him, as he continues healing calmly from his place on the battlefield, on the front lines.
Oranna stays far enough back from the main hits to keep firing unimpeded, her lips set in a line as she breathes in careful, perfectly rhythmic times coinciding with her shots.
Shun, continuing to climb up with his daggers, feels the sting of crystal shrapnel slicing against him. He hisses sharply as he urges himself to ascend. One stab at a time.
With Nylarria also present at the battle, Velrin seems to have sensed the fluctuation of energy and manages to narrowly avoid the fragments of crystal.
Baalun steps forward to shield others from the blast and is now pincushioned with crystal shards, but he stands firm as ever despite it.
Thoridas squawks as a shard tears into his wing, but Taeavon quickly casts a spell to help mend the wound.
Auralind is unsteady on her feet by the time Mordecai nears, still hunched as she tries to recover her breath.
Light spills from Mordecai's robes onto the ground. "Serenity," he says, and a powerful healing spell washes over Auralind like a warm sunbeam.
Estel cannot see Shun, but as she sends blasts of Light battering against the elemental, some of that Light is redirected through the elemental's body to him, healing his wounds.
Shine is bleeding now from shrapnel-wounds; at least one needle-like shard of crystal protrudes from his shoulder, gone even through his armor. He does not seem to notice it as he fights on.
Caspis suddenly shifts, growing into a tall, broad treant with lush dark foliage. His healing spells suddenly pour out of him in a torrent, green light and sharp piney scents surrounding everyone in range in wave after wave.
Sil tries to evade the shards from a nearby crystal, with partial success. The outpouring of the Treant's heals mend the rest.
Ralaea shields her face from the explosion, but a shard of the crystal lodges itself in her arm. Gritting her teeth, she pulls the shard out, trusting the healers. Her arms actually feel pain now, evidenced by her grimace.
As though sensing Rae's pain in particular, Caspis-tree sends a gesture at her - she can almost feel something green and soothing planted within her, growing and blooming.
“The stone calls…” roars Morchok, and suddenly everyone is pulled towards him with a force that is well into pain. The pressure continues as spikes begin to erupt from the ground.
Auralind gasps, suddenly able to fill her lungs once again. She puts her fist to her chest in a salute to Mordecai…just in time to lurch toward Morchak. She digs her feet it, trying to resist the pull.
Caspis-tree is dragged toward the giant, wood groaning and creaking from the pressure. He loses the form entirely, shocked and disoriented.
The black worgen is also dragged along, spell interrupted. He lets out a snarling whine of pain.
Yelping in surprise, Ismene grabs onto the Worgen's clothes. She renews her Shield, one for each of them, and sends a pulse of golden healing light through her protector.
Blood trickles down Dane's brow from a wound long-since seen to by the healers. He digs his trunk-like legs into the ground to try to slow the pull, bloodied teeth clenching with the effort, but the effort is in vain. He raises his shield to protect himself from the oncoming spike.
Sintha, still holding off straggling elementals, gives an indignant shout as she is dragged inward across the snow by the giant's force. She manages to get her feet under her in time to dive sideways from a spike's eruption.
"Whoops!" is Bran's response to being yoinked a large distance toward the giant.
Iphindra giggles at Bran before her breath is cut short by the pull. She grabs onto one of the spikes with her plants.
Anareline dodges behind a spike, bracing herself against it.
Marina burbles loudly in alarm as she is yanked. She did not predict this. She's just an innocent elemental. Cressidha stumbles but manages to keep her footing as she's jerked forward.
Oranna screams as she's yanked forward, lowering her rifle in fear, her finger off the trigger as she's suddenly forced into unplanned lines of sight.
Colson makes no sound himself, another mitigating damage shield closing over him as he focuses his heals, but his attention is immediately on Mordecai, with a [Hand of Protection] over the priest.
Ben and Shine are already at Morchok's feet.
Shun is also right up against Morchok. He's just squished against the giant briefly, with his daggers already embedded in. With a grunt, he starts to try and chip away whatever he can of the giant, to give an opening for some of the ranged assailants.
As her mirror images fade away, Gwen is pulled off her feet by Morchok's magic. Dragged along the snowy ground, she lets out a scream as she scrambles for a handhold.
Abruptly, the pressure ceases, and Morchok cries, “…and there is no escape from the Old Gods!” Black liquid pours from his form, coating the ground and flowing radially outward. The stony spikes remain. As the flow of black blood passes the first few, it’s clear there is a gap of safety just behind each one.
The black worgen growls at Ismene. Maybe it was a thank-you? Super rude, if so. Also rude is the way he suddenly SHOVES Ismene toward the shelter of a spike.
Ben and Shine almost simultaneously fling themselves backwards and collide in the shadow of a spike. Ben spares an adrenaline-powered grin for the other man. Shine is not grinning.
Sintha tumbles deliberately behind another spike and presses her back up against it, breathless, as the vile black substance flows past.
"Auralind," Mordecai says. "Follow my voice, there's — something oozing along the ground, I see a safe place." As he speaks, he runs behind a spike.
Auralind growls her frustration about a danger she cannot perceive. But she gives Mordecai a grateful nod and moves toward his voice, an arrow at the ready to keep him protected should a threat arise.
"Fuck!" Shun curses as the black blood starts to leak out. He kicks off of the giant's body and shadowsteps back to the ground level, behind one of the spikes.
The floating, ghostly Sandy is dragged near Morchok in all his floatiness. He jus zooms past people. A spike scratches his arm deeply, a dark, shadowy blood pouring from the wound. "I had to become a shadow priest when the world's major threats started to be all shadowy too, uh?" He hides behind the spike that hurt him, away from the ooze.
Sil lunges behind a spike.
Jo blinks behind one.
Celaven dodges behind a spike and looks toward the black worgen to make sure he actually gets behind a spike.
Iphi is almost touched by the ooze before she pulls herself behind a spike, the plants helping her.
Dane lurches backward, utilizing discipline to keep his shield raised as his legs almost comically reverse bicycle kick to get away from the sludge.
Wyriel leaps up into the air, becoming a stormcrow as she repositions.
Ralaea finds a spike shelter along with the others.
Almeiria disperses into shadow as Morchok pulls her, then glides away to rematerialize behind a spike. She watches the black blood almost intently.
Ismene sprawls inelegantly behind the spike where she was shoved. She scrambles to her feet and holds one hand out toward the worgen, a wordless cry on her lips. She doesn't move from her shelter, though. Black ooze is bad, even she knows that.
The worgen reaches for her hand, but just slightly too late — black ooze splashes over him, and he throws back his head and lets out a shrill involuntary howl of agony.
Celaven shields himself and steps out to hastily send a pain suppression and a shield to the worgen.
The worgen manages to get behind the spike with Ismene, but he contorts himself oddly to stop his black-blood-splattered fur from touching her. "Don't touch me… don't touch me…" he pants, his voice distorted by pain and by his lupine form.
Estel Shields Shun, then Shine, then Kyris as she rushes towards a spike of her own, where she promptly loses line of sight to the frontliners again.
Cressidha blinks to safety.
The black wave recedes, drawn back somehow into the giant's form, and the spikes crumble to the snow. Morchok swings his head to survey the field around him, and then roars with fury to see so many people still alive.
"I AM UNSTOPPABLE!" he shouts, and begins to strike harder and faster at those closest to him. The ground trembles with the force of his attacks.
Anareline tries her best to match his intensity, dodging around Dane, Ben, Rae and others in melee.
Dane charges back in. He rapidly and constantly adjust his footwork, now putting forth half of his fighting effort just to stay vertical the surface of the ground rattles with each blow. He still manages to protect himself and strike with Thunderfury, but every inch of him takes a beating.
Ralaea staggers along with the shaking of the ground, somehow managing to work a strike in here and there in an odd kind of rumble dance. "Why are you… so annoying?" she demands.
"It's gone," Mordecai tells Auralind. "The liquid got… sucked back into the elemental's body." He resumes praying to heal the others.
Auralind nods firmly, muttering, "Vile." As she resumes her barrage of arrow-shot at Morchok, she adds, "Shaha lor'ma, Mordecai."
Ismene falters as the spike she was leaning against vanishes. Her free hand lands on the worgen in a spot of fur not ooze-ified, and she sends another wash of healing through him, this one a constant, soft heal that pulses with the beating of her heart.
"Be careful," she whispers.
The worgen growls at her. How dare u. It then reaches into a pouch at its side and presses a small green stone into her hand before loping off on all fours.
Shine shadowsteps through the air and back into the fight; taking a page from Shun, he buries knives in the giant's leg to scale upward for the attack.
Ben charges back in with a war cry, which is to say he cusses real loud, and smashes his shield and a concussive wave of Light against the giant's leg before swinging his blazing hammer after it.
Shun rolls out of the way of one blow before retaliating in turn. He keeps his footing as he weaves between the earthen spikes and goes to throw a set of knives ahead of Shine to give extra handholds.
Estel's bombardments of Light against the giant continue to redirect into healing others who are hurt close by — Dane, Kyris, Ralaea.
Oranna's shots grow closer and closer together as Befound growls loudly enough to be felt by those closest to the snow leopard, something magical and mystical or perhaps simply inherently extremely motivating in the sound for those who fight fast and beautifully as this cat.
Colson's eyes are gold with Divine Favor as he heals faster, holy lightning shocking through the battlefield.
The giant staggers, his attacks becoming clumsier and more desperate.
“Impossible. This cannot be. The tower…must…fall,” Morchok says with his last strength. He crumbles into inanimate stone and gems.
A gnome with short brown hair appears from basically nowhere to inspect the gems, even before the giant has quite finished crumbling.
Dane takes a few steps back as Morchok falls and raises his head, looking down on the 'corpse' of the giant. He licks blood off of his lips and sniffs once before he marches up to Ben.
Velrin stands, satisfied for the moment, on the pile of rubble holding her crescent, "And all enemies of Azeroth will meet the same fate."
Taeavon's expression lightens seeing they've won this battle at least.
Estel rushes towards a cluster of fallen Alliance soldiers who had the misfortune of running away from the crystal, to begin attempting resurrections.
Caspis, too, makes the rounds of the fallen, whispering to each of them and trying to reach them.
Shine leaps free from the avalanche of rubble; he lands in a tumble and comes up lightly on his feet, knives ready again. There is nothing else to fight. He lowers his weapons and looks around, catches Shun's eye, and nods to him.
Ralaea maybe disagrees with the 'nothing else to fight,' part, her eyes turning skyward in an effort to locate Deathwing.
Shun shadowsteps away from the crumbling form to avoid getting caved in on. Catching Shine's eye, he nods in turn. "Unstoppable, my ass," he mutters, "Thought he would never shut up." He shakes his head, then moves over towards Estel with mana potions and a flask of water at the ready.
With one long look to assure herself that Ben is still upright, Ismene follows Estel. "It's all right now," she can be heard murmuring. "It's safe. Come back."
Bran also walks among the dead, brusquely suggesting that they "get on up noew" or they're gonna miss the good stuff. His hands glow with the potential of Light.
Celaven joins the other healers in attempting to raise the fallen, in the hopes that more helping will allow to reach each person faster.
Ben moves back to watch the rubble-pile accumulate, and then turns away to survey the battlefield and the bodies in the churned snow. He counts Cobalt tabards. One in particular catches his eye now, and he takes three startled steps in her direction. "MIZZY!" he calls. "Mizmainy!"
He jogs through the snow and stony debris toward her. (Sorry, Dane.)
Dane takes a step out of Ben's way and scoffs faintly with amusement at the reunion. He takes a quiet moment to count heads among living comrades.
Gwenivene, having been pulled a bit too close to the giant, pushes her way out of a pile of rubble. She hisses in pain as she tugs at her left leg. "Oooh…ow ow ow ow ow. That hurts like a bench!"
"Settle doewn noew," says the ginger dwarf as he comes over to check on the yelling wizard.
Gwen offers a meager smile to the helpful dwarf. "Oh gosh, I'm trying. But I think it's broken…OW!"
Stop pulling on it, Gwen.
"Be still a minute," Bran says, putting his hands on Gwen's leg in a way that makes a nearby red-haired rifleman gasp in shock!
Sandy approaches Gwen, not in shadowform anymore. "Do you…" He looks at Bran already healing her and smiles. He steps back, back into his shadowform.
There is a slight shifting that probably does not… feel great. And then a sudden rush of utterly warm, joyous Light all through Gwen.
Gwen blushes a bit at the dwarf's touch…but he is a medic…she hopes. She grits her teeth, whimpering at the moment of pain…and then gasps breathily with the relief that comes after. Oh, he's a priest! "Oooooh…wowee wow. Thank you, Father…Brother? Sir?" She giggles and reaches up to try to hug him as she simultaneous stands to test her leg.
"Prospector!" he clarifies. "Prospector Brannagen Stillwall, Cobalt Company." He hug-helps her to her feet, thumping her amiably on the back.
The ginger rifleman stops being Affronted at the rude dwarf laying hands upon a lady when he sees it's a healing situation. He then looks around, sees that things are settling a bit… and then crumples into a dead faint. Caspis rushes over to attend to him immediately. But he's fine, really. Just, you know, havin' a nap.
"Oh!" Gwen perks in realization. "Prospector! Yes, I think I've heard of you. I'm Gwenivene Whittle, also of Cobalt Company and the Kirin Tor. Thank you so much. My leg feels like new." As awareness of her surroundings returns to her, Gwen offers an awkward smile to Sandy. "Thanks…um…yeah, I'm okay."
"Oh aye," Bran says to Gwen, turquoise eyes twinkling. "Yer a Big One. I know ye. An' no thanks needed, just doin' me job. As were you! Nice spellwork out there."
Wyriel makes the rounds to heal the living, flowers blooming where she walks.
Cressidha hurries towards the giant and the five of her loved ones that have been trapped in the temple for days. Marina trails behind her, burbling as she curses Morchok in Kalimag. "Your parent was a chipped pebble," is the rough translation.
Ismene turns from helping a formerly deceased archer onto her feet. "Ben!" She drops the archer on her butt and runs to meet Ben, the hem of her robes dragging pebbles and snow with her. She jumps into his arms, heedless of armor and weapons.
"Are you well?" Cressidha demands, looking between her brother and Sil.
Colson inclines his head. "I am fine, Cressidha," he says, which answers nothing really. But he does look well enough, any exhaustion hidden away, and only relief faintly visible in his expression. "Forgive me for having caused any worry for not returning, or sending word. We could not."
"Yeah, I'm well," Sil says with a crooked smile. "We've just been holed up in here. Looked pretty dicey for a bit there at the end — you all came just in time."
“The Twilight's Hammer is retreating!” Lord Devrestrasz yells. “The temple is ours; fortify your positions within!”
Dane turns to Lord Devrestrasz and up-nods, his voice booming. "Recover swiftly! You heard him! Get inside, now!"
Cressidha nods to her brother. "Good. Come, we should…" She gestures towards the temple.
Ben catches Mizzy up with a laugh, dropping hammer and shield in the snow, and swings her around. "Shit, it's good to see you." He sets her back down on her feet and smooths her hair back from her face with both hands, his expression alight. At Dane's shout, he looks toward him and then back at Mizzy. "We better get off the field, he's right. There's still — " He looks upward at the circling dragons. "We got to make sure we hold the temple now."
Ismene struggles to lift Ben's hammer and hand it to him. "Someone said the dragon said the temple was falling," she explains, "and I just ran out onto the battlefield to get to you. There was the most marvelous worgen who helped me…" She looks around for her savior.
Dane rasps his shield with Thunderfury to rouse them all before he starts jogging to the Temple, unless he spots anyone in need of a hand.)
Ben accepts his hammer and stoops for his shield. He slings the latter onto his back and wraps his free arm around Mizzy. "We'll get inside and maybe you can find him, yeah?"
He ushers her across the snow and into the (relative) safety of the Temple.
Iphindra takes this moment to take a breath before moving forward.
After checking on Estel, Shun goes on to head towards the temple.
Estel moves in with him, drinking water as she goes.
Oranna is already hustling into the temple. This isn't her first siege, and she knows how these things go. Befound follows closely at her side. Colson lawfully heads back into the temple that he's been trapped inside. This is fine. They live here now.
Sandy moves inside the temple as soon as possible. A floating shadow.
Ralaea follows everyone into the temple, reluctantly. Are there stairs? Maybe she can climb it to get to Deathwing.
"I hope the shamans have this place structurally fortified," Almeiria says. "It was in danger of collapsing, and it could end up that way again."
Inside, the Wyrmrest Temple is fortified more than any have likely seen, and a cluster of dragons waits in the center in visage form. Tyrygosa waves happily to Devrestrasz, who strides toward her at the head of the remaining fighters.
“Thank the titans, we needed the reinforcements!” Tyrygosa exhales. “I’ve heard from the top – this is surely not the last we’ve seen of them, but the Twilights are withdrawing after the destruction of Morchok. The elemental portals are closed.”
“Good,” says Lord Devrestrasz. “Now we just need to focus on Deathwing — ”
“Not so fast,” Tyrygosa warns. “The next phase of attack seems to be from the maws to the east and west, where n'raqi are being summoned from the bowels of the earth. We will need to send teams to either side to stem the tide, but for now, you — ” she turns to the gathering Cobalt Company team, “ — Cobalts, to the apex with you first. Thrall and the Aspects are beginning preparations to use the Dragon Soul, and you should be there. Your people recovered the Dragon Soul, after all, as well as recovering Thrall, if I have my facts straight. When you are ready, we will seen you brought up.” She gestures toward a group of red drakes waiting nearby.
Dane squints, looking between the two attentively, his armor and tabard already soiled with the trappings of melee combat. He nods once at Tyrygosa and grunts. "We're ready, my lady." he growls looking back at Cobalt Company.
Caspis eagerly approaches the red drakes.
Auralind steps up beside Caspis as they approach the drakes, giving him a nudge. "I am relieved to find you healthy, rul'denore. Do you mind if I ride with you? I am not very accustomed to riding dragonback."
"By all means," he says in his low soft voice. "Hold onto me, and I will ensure your safety."
Anareline nods to Caspis, who is assisting his bond-sister, and moves to a drake of her own.
Sil goes immediately to a particular drake — one he's fought together with before.
Jo whispers a few words to one of the drakes. They lie down flat so she can more easily climb aboard.
Shine sheaths his knives and turns expressionlessly toward one of the red drakes. He does not look thrilled, but he's used to this by now. He climbs onto its back.
Ben offers Mizzy a hand up onto a drake's back.
Mizzy slides into place, using her new height to look for the Worgen who helped her.
The 7th Legion appears to be elsewhere at the moment; they've consolidated the various units into a pack of near-identical uniforms, receiving orders from someone higher up the chain of command than the unit captains.
"It's… really good to see everyone," Mordecai mumbles. One of the red drakes in particular seeks him out, and he smiles and gets on.
Dane flashes Mordecai a knowing, empathetic look and grunts before he swings himself upon the nearest drake.
Brannagen takes his time heading for the drakes, making sure everyone's okay and heading in the right direction and kind of taking up the rear.
Iphindra jumps onto a drake's back. "Brannagen! Do you want to join me?" She asks when she spots him.
"Sure!" Bran says cheerily. "But let me ride in front or I won't be able to see over ye."
"Of course!" Iphi beams, and helps him up. Plants pull Bran towards the drake's back.
Sandy looks at a drake. "Been a while since I've been on this kind of adventure." He hovers unto a drake's back.
Dane works his jaw and appraises Sandy for a moment before he nods with restrained, gruff affection, but he doesn't say anything.
"I'm not exactly a dragon rider —" Almeiria begins.
"Aw, c'mon, it'll be fun!" says a particular redheaded scoundrel. Alysson grins at her. "You can ride with me!" He pulls her along before she can further object.
Ralaea glances a little warily at the dragons, but anything that'll bring her closer to her prey. She climbs on.
Shun eyes the dragons a little skeptically. He begrudgingly climbs onto the back of a drake and looks for whatever he's supposed to hang on.
At the top of the temple, which is now shattered and open to the sky between ruins of columns, the four dragon Aspects wait — Alexstrasza, Nozdormu, Ysera and Kalecgos — as well as the shaman Thrall. They are deep in their own conversation, standing around a floating golden disc that is likely familiar to some of the Cobalts.
Caspis's eyes widen slightly in awed recognition at the sight of the Dragon Soul.
Almeiria bristles at the power emanating from the Dragon Soul. That is a terrifying device, right there.
Gwenivene slides down from her dragon mount, eyes wide at the gathering…and the powerful artifact in their midst.
Estel looks up and around as she slides off her drake, just in case Deathwing is closing in.
Kyris bows to the Aspects individually. He does not bow to Thrall.
Anareline watches the dragons with reverence.
Jo watches the dragons with curiosity.
Sil watches the dragons with hope.
Ben dismounts from his drake and crosses to reach up and help Mizzy down from hers. He keeps one eye directed on the Aspects and the Dragon Soul.
Shine drops down from dragonback and also keeps one eye aimed at the proceedings. It's the only one he's got.
Mizzy slips from her dragon into Ben's arms. She stays there for one unprofessional minute before releasing him in case he needs to do Leader Stuff
Dane dismounts and pries off his helmet with a frown. His hair is slicked back with sweat, and otherwise clean except for the muddled, bloodied portions of his face. He tucks his helmet under an arm and bows respectfully, but crisply, even regarding Thrall as not just an orc, but someone worth listening to. At least for now. "Ready to serve."
Caspis frowns slightly at Thrall, but somehow still manages to convey an attitude of respect.
Thaeru'kal remains in avian form, and perches on Auralind's shoulder — seemingly almost weightless despite her large size.
Cressidha thanks her drake as she dismounts and approaches. She opens her mouth to speak but shuts it when she sees that the Aspects are clearly busy.
After dismounting, Shun eyes the various Aspects and Thrall before he joins Estel in keeping watch for trouble while he listens to them speak.
“It will be as it was against Chromatus,” Alexstrasza is saying, her gaze flicking towards the Cobalts and then back to Thrall. “You will serve as the Earthwarder, Thrall, and thus the five of us will be united. We will trust you to aim our strike at Deathwing.”
“It did not work for the blessing of Nordrassil,” Nozdormu cautions. “Thrall is a mortal man, for all that he is a powerful shaman. If the powers we must channel destroy him, the sands of time will not save us today.”
“See if you can connect to it,” Kalecgos suggests to Thrall. “If it begins to overwhelm you, pull back. This is a test, you need not risk yourself.”
Dane briefly knits his brow at the announcement of Thrall's promotion. He looks from the Dragon Soul to the former Warchief, jaw set, a cowlick forming in the frigid Northrend breeze.
“I will try,” Thrall says, stepping forward to reach his hands towards the floating golden disc. The power glows, and brightens and intensifies… and then Thrall slumps and steps away. “The power of the Dragon Soul is too great. I cannot wield it safely. The raging forces within it may be the doom of us all.”
“Then we are truly lost,” Alezstrasza says, turning to gaze out over the Dragonblight.
“Not necessarily,” Kalecgos says, looking around at the older, titan-blessed Aspects. “Don't give up so quickly. There must be a solution, a way around this.”
Dane squints at the Dragon Soul and swallows distastefully, but says nothing and keeps listening. He might shuffle quietly sidelong to make room for the small army of other Cobalts as needed.
Brannagen smiles at Kalecgos.
Caspis gives him a very fond look, as though he wants to hug him.
Ben looks around. He does not have a solution. If the dragons don't have a solution, is there a solution?
Shine continues to watch the orc, in case it proves extraneous to the proceedings.
"I thought this was the part where they told us the plan," Estel says dryly to Shun and Ralaea. "I guess they're still workin' on it, yeah?"
"It sounds like there are problems with their original plan," Shun mutters quietly in turn. He folds his arms over his chest.
Dane turns to flash Estel a stern look from over the heads of the crowd before he looks back to the Aspects and Thrall. "We'll do wotever's required of us."
"It's going to be a flying bear," Ralaea says confidently.
Oranna frowns in thought. "A flyin' bear? One that… can already fly, or are we… is it really a fallin' bear we've launched out of somethin'? A druid… bear? Or…" Look, she has more questions now than answers.
"Okay, so we get a priest to sprout wings on a druid," Ralaea begins. "Then the druid uses those priest wings to fly over to Deathwing and kill it. I'll ride the flying bear for good measure."
"It doesn't sound like much of a plan, that's for sure…" Sandy says. "But I'm all for it!"
Colson waits patiently for the dragon Aspects and great shaman of the world to come up with their next plan.
Gwen meekly raise her hand. "You said it would be like it was with Chromatus. Well…we helped then, too. Maybe we can do something now? Maybe other shamans and druids could help Thrall manage all that power?"
Dane swings broad, armored shoulders aside to look from Gwen to Kalecgos, calm and stern.
"I'd love to help" Iphi dismounts from her drake. "But I'm not sure I can do what Thrall can!"
Kalecgos turns to look at Gwen. He gives a slow, thoughtful nod. "I will… I don't know if that will be feasible. We require one who can stand as Earthwarder, and to divide that among many… I don't think so. But I will consider it." He bows his head toward her.
“It matters little if we find a solution, if in the meantime the Temple falls,” Nozdormu says, as the floor shifts ever-so-slightly beneath everyone.
Mordecai grabs onto Colson's arm with a gasp as the floor moves. He looks disproportionately afraid.
Colson steadies Mordecai, setting a hand gently over his. "I have you," he says softly.
“Kalec, we will go to repair and ward the foundations,” Ysera says gently to the Blue Aspect. She turns to the Cobalts. “We will rely on your defense, friends of Azeroth and the Dream, as you have come to our aid before. We must hold this place against Deathwing and his allies while we prepare.”
“Yes,” Nozdormu says. “We will need our strength for Deathwing. You must gain us the time we need.”
"We shall assist you," Cressidha says, confidently speaking for everyone with a gracious nod.
Dane nods slowly as a plan is laid out, and tugs his helmet on. "We'll get you the time you need." he pledges with a growl.
"That's step one of plan throw a bear at it," Ralaea says almost accusingly. "Buy time. It's the same, I told you."
Oranna looks extremely skeptical of Plan Throw A Bear. "That… could work possibly?" she half-asks. "But… can ye fly with those priest wings? They're made o' Light not… bone an' feather. Should we… should we test this?" She surveys the others. "If we're goin' ta need time anyway."
Ben wraps his arm around Mizzy's waist as the Temple shifts beneath them. He looks over his shoulder to where the red drakes still wait patiently. "Let's get back down, then," he tells her. "We can get a camp together and see what needs doin'. Mordecai had a little infirmary done up and will be real glad to see you, I reckon." He bends to kiss the side of her head. "Not as glad as me. But pretty glad."
Ismene closes her eyes and leans into Ben's kiss. "I wrote you I was coming but I gather you don't have mail here," she says. "All of my things are back at the infirmary where we started. I didn't think, I just ran out. I hope no one's angry with me." She clambers atop a drake and pats it nicely. Thank you, immortal beast of burden.
Kyris salutes the Aspects, and looks at Jocoza to see if she has other orders for them.
Jo sighs wearily, and then smiles at Kyris and the other Cobalts. "We'll give them the time they need. The temple will not fall."
"I will fight till my dying breath." Velrin says firmly.
Taeavon swallows and steels himself.
Baalun simply raises his shield and prepares for what's to come.
Dane climbs back onto his drake and descends to the lower level.