#This is the first time I have ever drawn Khadgar????

[corvusalbus93]

Khadgar: Tea Time

During a stormy night in Zangarra, Cordana voices some of her concerns to Khadgar, troubled by the path the Archmage is going down and the powers he studies.

-

It was night in Zangarra, and the cove was lit only by the bioluminescent mushrooms growing in the cove. No star or moonlight was visible, instead heavy rain was pouring from the dark clouds above, cold and unrelenting.

Cordana took a deep breath, her night elven eyes able to pierce through the darkness. She was ever vigilant, searching for anything that didn’t belong here, but only saw sporebats looking for shelter, their multi-coloured wings shimmering like stained-glass windows.

From afar they reminded the Warden a little of faerie dragons, if not quite as pretty, and the thought made her think of home. She missed the forests of Ashenvale and coast of Azsuna. And at this particular moment she even missed the vault, nice and dry.

Cordana attention was drawn away from her memories, when she heard footsteps behind her, coming from within the tower, and judging by the sound, they were Khadgar’s.

“Cordana, the rain hitting your armour can be heard for miles around and I wager that cloak of yours is soaked by now,” the Archmage said softly, standing in the doorway, a kind smile on his lips. “Would you please just come inside, and spare us both the argument?”

The Warden hesitated, but she knew Khadgar would be insisting all through the eve, until she relented or he went to bed. This wasn’t their first dance. Admittedly, her cloak was quite heavy and would be slowing her down in a case of emergency, so he had a point. And she really wasn’t in the mood to argue with him again. Thunder rumbled in the distance, as if the weather itself had decided to chime in.

Cordana sighed beneath her helmet. “Very well.” From the corner of her eyes, she saw his smile turn into a triumphant grin, but Cordana went on to ignore it, checking the perimeter one last time before stepping inside.

Her eyes needed a moment to adjust to the light, and she headed straight for the fire bowl at the side of the room, while the door closed behind her. She removed her cloak and spread it out across a chair, close to the flames, though it would take hours to dry. A moment later Khadgar appeared beside the Warden, handing her a steaming mug. It almost seemed like a peace offering.

“Thought it might help you warm up.”                                    

“Thank you, Khadgar.”

“It’s a new type, by the way. Hope you like it; the SI:7 agent I got it from swore by it.”

Cordana didn’t try it immediately, instead putting the mug aside for a moment to remove her helmet. It was nice to feel a breeze against her skin after spending most of the day in uniform, and she wiped a few raindrops that had gotten through her visor from her forehead. She checked her hair, which she kept fixed against the back of her head with a hairclip, so it fit under the helmet. It was a little uncomfortable at times, and sometimes she could hear the helmet scrape against the clasp. Maybe she should have taken the other armour variant instead; it’s helmet was partially open in the back and would have allowed her to keep her hair in a ponytail. Lesson learned for the next assignment.

Meanwhile, the Archmage was also making himself comfortable, taking a seat by the fire, a mug of his own in hand and a book floating beside him, patiently waiting to be read.

Cordana glanced to the door and window, checking the room carefully. Most of the other Kirin Tor, who were living here in Zangarra, had already retired for the night, so the two were alone for the moment. Only after she had reassured herself that nothing was lying in ambush, did the Warden finally sit down and pick up her tea again.

Her gloves protected her fingers from the heat, but the steam was soon enveloping her, and she sniffed. Herbal tea? It certainly wasn’t one of the greens and whites they usually had.

She took a sip and found the tea to be quite pleasant, warmth spreading through her every fibre. Still, she couldn’t place it. “It’s an interesting flavour. Did the agent tell you what type it is?”

“Thistle tea. Do you like it?”

“It’s good. Actually somewhat invigorating,” Cordana admitted. After a long day in the rain, she frankly welcomed the beverage.

He gave her another smile. “I’m glad to hear it. I was never certain if you ever liked the other teas, or if you were drinking just to be polite.”

“Maybe both,” she replied, feeling a little sassy. Then her eyes landed on the pile of books near his seat. “Do you plan on reading all night again?”

“Well, right now we are talking and enjoying some tea.”

Cordana only just managed not to roll her eyes at that. “You’re evading my question, Khadgar.” He liked doing that.

“I still got time for some ‘light’ reading,” he told her, before looking at her with a frown. “And you? Do you plan on getting any sleep?”

She shrugged. “Eventually. Once you’re in the upper levels, you should be safe enough.”

Khadgar sighed, but didn’t protest. He knew by now she wouldn’t relent. For a while they just sat in silence and enjoyed their tea, before the Archmage let his book float closer and returned to his reading. Cordana continued to watch the flames, letting the warmth seep into her, happy to feel the tips of her long ears again. Of course she remained attentive, but with all doors and windows locked, relied on senses other than her sight. Though she was no mage, even she would be able to sense magic to a degree, a sensation she likened to the moments before a thunderstorm, when one could feel the electricity in the air.

When she had almost finished her tea, Cordana’s eyes wandered through the room, only to pause upon seeing what the Archmage was reading.

It was a tome she would have expected in the hands of a warlock or other practitioners of dark magic, and the sight made her skin crawl. “This is what you consider ‘light reading’?” Her tone was cold and by the looks of it caught Khadgar a little off guard.

“Does it trouble you that much I consult these books?”

It surprised her he even needed to ask. “Of course. They only hold corruptive knowledge and foul spells.” Every instinct told her to either lock them away or better yet destroy them, so their content could never influence anyone ever again.

For the first time this eve he was utterly serious and Khadgar closed the tome, placing a hand on the cover. “Knowledge is power, but the key is using it wisely. I intent on using what insights I gain against Gul’dan and his masters.”

Cordana put her mug aside. “Corruption can be subtle, it can take years, but it can take hold of anyone no matter how noble their initial intentions.” And she knew he meant well, she’d seen enough to know that, only his methods troubled her, his search for power to use against the warlock.

“I am well aware of the dangers, and I am not taking this lightly. But without such knowledge, we’re fighting them blindly or do the Watchers not believe in studying their enemy?”

“There are lines we do not cross. Like using the powers of our enemy.” His brows twitched at her last statement. She tried to remain objective, but couldn’t quite manage to hide the apprehension. She feared how his search for knowledge would affect him. “I know you believe you have everything under control, but each step, no matter how small or insignificant it seems at the time...in the end they sum up all same, they still lead down the road to damnation.” Cordana leaned forward in her chair, her tone softening. “Dire times have a tendency to drive people to the extremes, and I worry what they will bring out in you.”

For a moment he remained silent, holding her gaze. “I... appreciate you worrying about me,” Khadgar began, choosing his words carefully. “However, we came to this world, knowing there might be no return. And it’s not even the first time for me,” he reminded her and his eyes turned to the book in his hands. “If Gul’dan is allowed to pursue his plans and those of his master, there is no limit to the damage he could do. No telling how many would suffer. So, I fear not taking these risks more than I fear the danger they represent. And I know I put others into danger as well, but I don’t do so lightly, however it may seem. We are fighting a war, a war that will not only determine the fate of this world, but ours as well. This is not the time for half measures.”

He had a point.

As much as the Warden wanted to contest, he wasn’t wrong, not entirely. But this meant he would continue to study all manners of dark magic, perhaps even use it, if he deemed it necessary. Nothing she said, no warning would change that. No, arguing wouldn’t get her anywhere, never had; best she could do was stay close and intervene when possible. The Archmage was stubborn once he’d set his mind on something, not unlike some others Cordana had served under. Maiev Shadowsong came to mind, and the Warden shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“Please, don’t lose yourself in this hunt. A mage of your power...”

“You fear I will succumb to the Legion’s influence, like so many before me.”

“Am I wrong to be concerned?”

The Archmage shook his head. “No. There is always that temptation, that chance at more power, enough to set things right, to save everyone.” Suddenly his eyes lit up with steely determination. “But I assure you, I am well aware of the pitfalls such shortcuts hold. I know their tricks and false promises. As long as I live and breathe, I will never be their puppet.”

“I hope you are right, for all our sakes.” And Cordana meant it. The Archmage feared the harm and destruction Gul’dan could cause, yet his own power in service of the Burning Legion would be at least as dangerous, if not more so, considering everything he knew. Yes, Khadgar could become the greater threat in the end. “And what if you do fall?”

“Then I must trust in people like you, to do what is right.” He gave her a smile, but the Warden saw no joy in it, only a note of sorrow. He knew what would be necessary; he’d done it himself.

As she went over the scenario in her head, it frightened Cordana that she wasn’t sure she would be able to do it, if it came to that. But she was a Warden, her duty was clear. It was one of the reasons she was here.  “I would,” she assured him after a second of hesitation. “Just promise me never to put me in that position.”

Khadgar’s smile became a little more genuine. “I promise,” he said and placed a hand on his heart. “On my life.”

Cordana prayed to Elune he would keep his word.

-

Second in a short series about Khadgar and Cordana on Draenor. We only had tiny bits and pieces in game, and I really wanted to expand on both them and her eventual corruption through the orb of dominion.

I also try to write it in a way that it works whether you ship them or not.

First part

Short about Khadgar, while we go into Vault of the Wardens in Legion

Entire series on AO3

[airanke]

Sum stuff I’m working on.

Me and White’s boys... because I wanted to showcase Vando carrying Zuvashi and p much showing how dear Zuvashi is to him as like, the first person who actually went out of his way to befriend him.

And the bottom two are both OC x Canon ships that were suggested to me to draw when I was taking OC x Canon ships to doodle.

[lothirielswan]

“I'm suing all of ya, and taking your stupid possessions! I own your mounts, your light coin purses, and your cheap shivering timbers!” Gallywix spat upon the searing hot sand and I half-expected the saliva to sizzle. I squinted against the harsh glare reflected off the Stranglethorn beach we were escorted along. The carpets of gold were laid out before the blue waves, like a long dress that fluttered across the surface. I gazed longingly at the warm banks, wanting to feel the gentle caress of the water with my bound hands. Beaches were my favorite part of Azeroth, and despite our situation, I couldn't help but admire the scenery.

“Quit your blabbering, or we’ll throw ya down to Davy Jones’ locker!” The golden-toothed human remarked beside me. Khadgar shuddered behind me as drops of saliva spat when the pirate spoke.

“And we ain’t givin’ you any limes, either!” A Bloodsail tauren glanced back from the front.

“Limes?” I asked.

“Arr! They battle the worst enemy at sea!” A female gnome replied as her pink pigtails bobbled.

“And that is?”

I wanted to cringe, but I held my ground as the human leaned close, teeth bared and glinting in the sun. “Gum disease.”

“Hmm.” Khadgar’s deep voice rumbled in his throat. “Have you ever considered flossing?”

“Bah! Who has time for that when yer riding the horizon and a parrot can talk for ye?”

Wow. And I thought I had a rough upbringing.

The Bloodsail halted close to the sighing waves. The pink-haired gnome left her post by Velen and faced a palm tree with a clutter of bushes.

I listened closely to the clicks and whirs that followed. My eyes narrowed as it seemed almost...familiar?  

“What is that?” Khadgar asked, leaning forward only for the human to block Khadgar with his own staff.

I answered for her. “Naga machinery.”

The naga were serpent-like creatures that flourished among the banks of Azeroth and the swampy confines of Zangarmarsh on Outland. The dark metal machines were usually used for controlling large amounts of water–I didn't know they had some on Azeroth, or perhaps the Bloodsail took it from the other world?

The gnome nodded, looking up from the parted greenery to confirm my suspicions. Nestled in the rubbery leaves was a set of nozzles and levers. “Aye. You’d make a fine pirate, lass.”

An undead pirate who gave off a putrid stench in the hot sun agreed. “Well, X marks the spot. How’d you get that mark on your nose?”

I’d forgotten about the tiny X-shaped scar on my nose. I glanced down at it temporarily, then answered, “Ettins with sharp nails. Nasty business.”

The human leaned close again, this time with his finger raised. “It looks so...lifelike.”

I edged away this time with a glare. “You boop my nose and I punch you in the face. Captive or not.”

“Eona, play nice!” Khadgar warned.

I blew my bangs away with more force than necessary and settled for a lethal scowl. I'm a redhead, I scream violence.  

The Bloodsail fanned out around us, digging for something in the sand. The outline of a silver platform poked out of the sand, searing bright beneath the fuming rays of sun.

The gnome pirate nodded and yanked one of the levers. She scuttled onto the platform as the water from the surf churned. Foreshadowing struck in the back of my head with the jabbing force of a thousand forks. Gallywix let out a shout as the tide rose up. The tiny tsunami roared over our heads.

And crashed down onto the beach.

I expected to be whisked off to sea, drowning in the magnificent yet deadly waves. Instead I sat up and looked around my new dark surroundings as they groaned and cried out in pain.

The sound of a match cursing as it lit up was followed by flames eating hungrily at the end of a torch. The Bloodsail tauren’s face was bathed in the orange as he said, “Welcome to the lair of the Bloodsail.”

We were on the inside of a gnome-made submarine, furnished with wooden staircases and eerie red lighting. Torches illuminated where flashing lights couldn't, and revealed the clusters of pirates settled above us on high ramparts.

Gallywix whistled, and the sound carried across the domed iron walls of the hull. “Let the IRS try to catch me in this tin can.”

But the tin can wasn't all metal. As I stood, I glanced at the tiny round windows. The submarine was at the bottom of the ocean, lurking with sharks and other secrets of the sea. So much for sneaking out of here...

The undead woman nodded, her unmatching jaw dipping down on one side. “Those buffoons in Booty Bay underestimate us. Come, our leader will decide what to do with you.”

The gnome stayed behind to fiddle with the other set of naga machinery as our party was forced onward. Bloodsail members leaned on the metal railings glaring down at us with flasks clutched in their fists.

“Oh my,” Velen was the only one who didn't seem troubled by our new environment. His hooves clattered against the metal floor as his head craned to take in the massive hull.

The one time Jaina doesn't appear at lunch, and we end up in a ship underwater. She would love this–speaking of Jaina…?

“Um…what is that?” I bit my lip to vanquish a snicker as we crossed something in the center of the room. A statue of my best friend towered over me in glimmering marble. It seemed more like a shrine with all of the candles and fanart nestled at the bottom of the pedestal. But something seemed wrong with the statue–every once in a while, purple light radiated off the stone.

“A shrine to the Bloodsail’s most beloved heroine; Lady Jaina Proudmoore, of Theramore, and of Kul’Tiras.” The human pirate replied as the other two paid their respects. Khadgar and I exchanged a look and our gazes returned to the statue. An amused smirk rested on my face. I can't wait to tell Jaina about her army of lime-loving fanboys.

“The Lady of the sea,” The tauren kneeled before the statue as violet light twitched about it's form.

“What is that light coming off of the statue?” Khadgar asked, his expression turning uneasy at the flashes of lilac.

“The statue was made from the ruins of Theramore, out of respect to what our Lady lost,” The undead bowed her head. Khadgar’s eyes widened with almost a fearful glint. The mana bomb...

“We also stole a precious artifact from the icy slopes of Northrend to honor our Lady’s painful history. Behold,” The human proudly raised his arms towards something glimmering that sat at the base of the statue. “The forsaken brooch of Prince Arthas Menethil, bearin’ the crest of Lordaeron. He wore that when he kissed Lady Proudmoore...and when he cut off the heads of children in Stratholme.”

Gallywix’s eyes went as wide as coins as our eyes settled upon the adornment of the famous wearer. I covered my mouth with both bound hands to hold in a gasp as I studied the intricate golden design. A relic of Jaina’s past. Arthas...if anyone deserves to keep that crest, it's her.

But after all these years, would she want it? Or would she discard it as a fragment of a faraway past?

The pirates left the glitching statue in peace and we approached one of the cabin doors at the end of the hull. The two guards that stood at attention were the only orderly thing I’d noticed about the pirates as they saluted in sync. With a word from the tauren, they knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

The metal door whined as it opened. A human woman sat at a desk in the center, feet propped up and glass in hand. We were pushed in not long after as the woman sat there in inquisitive silence. Eventually she gestured with her drink at the guards, “Close the door.”

My eyes narrowed at her request as the pirates gave her puzzled looks. “Ma’am, are ye sure–?”

“I'm in charge here. Do as I say.”

The Bloodsail obeyed and our small party was left alone with the leader. As she sipped her alcohol, her green curls tumbled down her shoulder. My eyes were drawn to the awkward way she sipped from her glass, and realized that it was from the tiny tusks in the corners of her lips.

She must be half troll. When the Dark Portal reopened, I had a half-troll friend that I used to spend time with...I haven't thought about that in years…  

“ ‘Names Tera, daughter of Fleet Admiral Tethys. What can I do ya for?” She asked with a smirk, the hazel liquid sloshing around in her glass.

“Do forgive our intrusion,” Velen was the first to speak, taking a step towards the desk. As he hovered many feet above Tera, I still pondered why she insisted being alone in a room with us.

“We were looking for a painting called The Goblin Lisa, and I believe your organization knows it's whereabouts. Would you tell us where it is?” Velen asked politely.

Tera just stared at him for a minute. Then she slowly started to nod. “Yeah, mate. My Buccaneers found it and they’re selling it this evening in the lower ramparts of Booty Bay.”

All of us gaped at her except for Velen. What in the bloody red roses…?

Velen smiled softly. “Thank you.”

Gallywix was the first to recover his voice, “Uh, what just happened?”

Velen blinked like he had been shook from a daze. “Priests have the ability to control the lesser minded, or in this case, those who are too intoxicated to put up a defense. A very useful trait.”

I thought of Anduin. “Do all priests have that ability...?”

“Yes,” Velen confirmed. Tera was still in a state of limbo beside him, looking off into space with her drink teetering in her grasp.

“Then why the hell didn't you use that trick on our captors? Or on my party crashers?” Gallywix demanded, his flabs of skin jiggling from his outburst.

“Because our captors did not have the information that we sought, but they could lead us to it. As for the pirates at the party…” Velen’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of violet. “I was also too...intoxicated...to do much about it.”

“So...how do we get out of here now?” I said.

My companions froze. We stared at Velen the Mastermind for our answer.

“I did not think that part through yet,” He admitted sheepishly, the blush on his cheeks growing.

“Can't you sneak us out?” Khadgar asked me.

“I could, but that's also taking into consideration that we don't disturb anyone when we’re hidden by the shadows. Besides, the only way out of here is that naga control panel,” I said, crossing the room to sit on the edge of Tera’s desk. A thought came to me and I looked over at her, “By the way, is the code to get out the same as the one to get in?”

Tera nodded, “Yep. Had to, we have too many simpletons coming and going.”

I felt a little guilty for taking advantage of her knowledge in her state and added, “Thanks.”

“So we need a diversion,” Khadgar had burned the twine that trapped his wrists and now stroked his stubbled chin. I was vaguely reminded of the beard he had for years on Outland as he did so. “That statue of Lady Proudmoore is pulsing with deadly arcane energy. I could tap into that, but it might also tear apart the ship…”

No one else offered up an alternative. I picked at the knots wrapping my wrists together before Khadgar gently lifted them up and undid them himself. Velen stared up at the ceiling, as if asking the Light itself for an answer. And Gallywix stared at all of us like we were his idiotic employees.

“That's the only plan we got?” Gallywix finally asked.

We nodded and he sighed, “We’re screwed.”

~*~

“Alright, we’re done here. Get them out of my sight,” Tera remarked as the door was wrenched open. I slipped through, goggles on, fueled by adrenaline, as I dashed across the floor. I could already hear the confrontation Khadgar had started behind me as I ran.

Get to the naga controller, that's my job–wait!

I made it halfway across the room and my feet had mechanically stopped on their own. I knew I this was the worst place to linger; Khadgar would be using the arcane-drenched statue any moment now. But that wasn't what caught my interest.

The brooch of Arthas.  

There was no one else around the statue. I kneeled down so I was eye-level with the infamous object. The faded form of my fingers tingled when they touched the dead-cold surface of the brooch.

Yes! It's not considered stealing if you’re taking it from bad guys, right?

I was already burying the shiny object in my pack when a shadow rolled over me. I tensed as I looked up at another human pirate.

With a slow inhale I steeled myself and took a small step backwards. It's alright–he’s human, he’s oblivious, he can't see me…

Then his form started to grow in a way I knew all too well. His nose stretched into a snout, and his red shirt ripped as claws sprouted from his hands.

...But he can smell me. Oh Stars.  

The worgen pirate swiped at the darkness surrounding me. I dodged, but I released a tiny yelp as I did so. The long, black ears on his head flattened as he stared straight at where I was located.

Just knock him out! Sap him and run!

I drew Sylvanas’ knife, twisting the weapon to where the flat part of the blade was showing–

The statue of Jaina Proudmoore exploded beside me.

The light was blinding and bright enough to fill the entire submarine. The air I breathed seemed more electric than before, filled with arcane energies. It popped and sizzled against my skin like a chaotic breeze.

I was still on my feet, and looked over at the worgen. He looked...the same. The exact same, actually. Same facial expression, same raised claw. I rose on my tip toes and poked his nose with my finger. At the lightest touch, his form crumbled into dust.

I gasped and staggered back. This is what Jaina endured...what she suffered, on a large scale, with people she knew and loved as victims…

I fled the pile of dust that was so much more than a stain on the floor, focusing on my previous mission. Energy spouted from the statue at whim, bursting into little explosions of light across the ship. The victims did not get up again.

There was a hum in the air even as I made it to the corner of the room. The atmosphere seemed to crackle with new deadly intent, a sinister hiss whispered in my ear as I looked over the controls. I studied the switches and knobs with forced concentration, feeling Arthas Menethil’s brooch pulling down my pack.

The gnome. I saw the gnome use it with my own eyes–

“Eon!”

I glanced over my shoulder and I wished I hadn't. Khadgar and a mighty Velen carrying a petrified Gallywix stumbled over the minefield of arcane explosions. There were few pirates left to thwart them, but a new enemy had arose. The arcane had attacked the walls, creating cracks and tearing holes in tough steel. Water invaded the submarine and worked together with the arcane to snuff out the last of life.

Dammit, he's right: this is the nethershard karma all over again.

I looked back at the controls, tugging at the hairs on my head as I examined the panel. I had used this technology when I was young, years ago when I snuck out to the swamp. That seemed so long ago now…

“Hey! What are ya waiting for, Red? WE’RE DYING HERE!” Gallywix’s voice wailed in my ears as he and Velen made it across the arcane field. Before I looked up to check on Khadgar, a hand fell on my shoulder.

“You can do this,” Khadgar assured me, squeezing my arm a little. There was a smear of blood on his face, likely from the pirates at the door. I had seen worse on him.

I turned back to the controls. Water approached our corner of the ship, flickering with the life-threatening tendrils of arcane. I turned a few knobs and I pulled the lever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Guess who found out how to use technology? :3 This girl! I love AO3 and Tumblr. I hope you enjoyed this one, Awesome Adventurers, and we’ll have some more out soon! I had an epiphany on Sylvanas that can’t wait to show you guys c: love, fortune and glory to you!!

[highpriestessbriyanna-blog]

Butterfly Wings

Butterfly Wings

@shadowphoenixrider - THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT.

Medivh sneezed.

Dabbing his nose with his handkerchief, he frowned a little and looked up. There was a tingling, somewhere deep in his ‘not right’ senses.

The ley-lines spoke of … chaos.

The former Guardian closed his eyes, listening to the whispers, and his explosive sigh was not the first, nor the last.

Of course Khadgar was involved in whatever was going on.

With a sigh, he put down his pen, blew on his astronomy notes to dry the last of the ink, then shut the notebook.

He may as well go find out what happ—

As though on cue, Khadgar landed on the floor of the observatory, covered in dust, dirt, and his hair was windswept, his robes soaked through.

The ceiling rained dust over the pair of magi, and Medivh stared, blinking down at his former apprentice as the younger mage groaned and stood up.

“What did you do this time, Young Trust?”

Khadgar was curious. He was always curious. And when curiosity beckoned, he followed it without bothering with thinking about what he was doing.

He came face to face with a box. He tilted his head, then looked around.

He was in some kind of Mogu temple, having finally had the time and inclination to visit Pandaria (now that the Sha were gone, it was safe enough for him), and of course he had been drawn to the Titans’ creations.

The box he stared at was about waist-height, about as long as he could spread his arms, and deep enough that if he leaned over it, he would not reach quite halfway across. It held few markings, other than a few glyphs that glowed blue and a bit of script that he stared at but could make no sense of.

Mogu language, or that of the Pandaren.

Probably some kind of warning.

Along one side of it were buttons, also glowing blue, with more glyphs above and below them.

Clearly, the glyphs above were instructions on how to operate, or open, the box.

He reached to run his fingers over the glyphs, and found a hastily-written note pasted to the back of the box, in Goblin. He lifted an eyebrow, knowing a few of the small, but mad, race. He smiled fondly as he gently pried the note loose, remembering his conversation with Gazlowe as he had opened a portal to Orgrimmar from Frostfire Ridge some years ago.

The note was short, and said only to ‘leave this thing alone, for freakin’ all that’s holy’.

One silver eyebrow lifted, and he set the note back down.

This thing had to be good, whatever it was.

He bent to study the buttons once more, running his fingers along them, trying to determine, without pressing any, if any were false, or would lead to a trap.

One of them depressed under his questing fingertips.

The box began ticking.

Pale azure turned silver as the eyes widened. He tried to pry the button back out. The last time he encountered something ticking… the end was not pleasant, and he’d pissed off a LOT of orcs. Then again, that had been something he could throw. He couldn’t throw the box or the temple, nor could he get out before it did the same thing.

He pressed another button. A humming accompanied the ticking.

He sucked his lower lip between his teeth, and pressed another.

The ticking stopped. The humming remained. He pressed another.

A screech of stone on stone replaced the humming, and he looked up, finding the ceiling lowering. Frantically he pressed another button, then another, and a third in rapid succession.

The box sank into the floor. Ticking, humming, and making a rather ominous rumbling noise.

Khadgar swore in at least four languages, caustically enough to leave drops of acid in the… floor? He looked up, swore again, then gave up all pretense and turned to run.

He didn’t get far before he was swept up in a flood of seawater, the brine making him choke as it invaded mouth and nostrils alike. Stonework began to shake apart above him, and he cursed his curiosity to the eleven hells.

A storm of arcane followed on the heels of the flood, and without a second thought, he teleported himself back to the surface.

Except that found him dropping into the sea. The temple was gone. He frowned, then looked down as he swiftly turned himself into a raven to keep aloft.

The flash of light, followed swiftly by noise, water, and foreboding of damage caused him to wing upwards, searching frantically for a thermal that would lift him away from whatever he’d done.

Instead, he found himself drenched, and the water did more than drench him – it dispelled his transformation, and the tidal wave carried him to a nearby shore. A crab, disturbed by his sudden appearance on its beach, jabbed his arm with its claw, then closed it around his wrist. Another claw clamped down somewhere beneath him, and he yelped.

Once he’d pried the crabs off with threats of lemon-butter and a pot of boiling water, he looked out where the temple had been.

The temple was gone. The island it had been on was gone.

The water lapping at the shore was warm, and touched by arcane.

So… he blew up a temple. He still wasn’t sure what the box contained.

A scrap of paper smacked him in the face, and he pulled it off with annoyance.

‘Leave this thing alone’ it said. He sighed. Shook his head, cursed his curiosity, then started inland.

Another flash of light in the distance made him turn. A second followed. Then a third.

 As a raven, he perched on the roof beams of the inn in Dawn’s Blossom, listening to one of the Pandaren frantically telling a group of others that something had triggered the self-destruction mechanism in several temples, and where they had been were now craters, or lakes.

Khadgar went to investigate the nearest, and found a rather large lake, where he had known an underground temple to be. He sighed. This just wasn’t his day.

 He found the Vale easily enough, and slipped into another of the hidden temples. The stone guardians seemed to know him, however, and it wasn’t long before he found himself rudely teleported by some device that he ran headlong through…

 “And … um…” Khadgar shrugged.

Medivh stared at him, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “Khadgar… have you ever heard of the expression ‘a hurricane triggered by a butterfly’s wings’?” Khadgar nodded, slowly, warily. “You are that butterfly.” Medivh sighed. “Only you could manage to … I mean if you think on it… it… You. I…”

Medivh rubbed his temples. “I need a very, very strong drink.”

@doitsuki @medivhthecorrupted @selarcis @sigurdjarlson @galleywinter

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