#archmage modera

[mousterian-writes]

Are you one of the few members of the Warcraft community that also reads fanfiction?

Have you ever thought about the inner political workings of the Cult of the Damned or Dalaran?

Have you ever thought to yourself "Golly, wouldn't it be neat if there was a story about Kel'Thuzad where he was the main character?"

Then do I have a long form, regularly updated story for you!

Don't walk, alt-tab to my story "Staff Envy" where you will experience:

A stellar cast of also ran characters such as: Archmage Modera, Baron Rivendare, Aethas Sunreaver, Brann Bronzebeard, Harrison Jones, Heigan the Unclean and Lady Deathwhisper

People avoiding their problems

Powerful mages who's problems cannot be solved with magic

An examination of what it might be like to be a lich

Group therapy where everyone is annoyed

Constant Indignations being heaped upon the powerful

Long term political consequences

Humor

Well paced action scenes

Vanilla wow and other lore easter eggs

Thoughts such as "He would not say that"

Swearing! (Appropriately)

Dragons, Slime, Libraries and more! Hear it from satisfied readers: I don't know who these people are, but I think its good- my mom I feel like someone of [Kel'Thuzad's] stature should be more manly- one guildie (direct quote) Why the fuck would Kel'Thuzad go shopping? Wouldn't he have someone who does that for him?- another guildie

💀💀💀Read now! Satisfaction not guaranteed! 💀💀💀

[mischievouswritingblog]

Prompt Fic: Heroes and Villains

Prompt: defending them against everyone, even when they’re not there to witness it 

Author’s Note: Playing with a headcanon I have for after Khadgar returned from Outland.

The Fic can also be found on AO3 here.

-o-o-o-o-o-

There was a loud, heavy ‘thud’ that hit Modera’s desk. It pierced the silence like a gunshot. She jumped, her muscles tensed and the arcane crackled at her fingertips. Her eyes shot up and caught sight of Khadgar.

The Archmage had finally moved back to Dalaran. He had to take some time to recover upon returning to Azaroth. Varian was more than happy to have him stay in Stormwind Keep during that time. Things weren’t so simple as crossing over and returning to how things were. Khadgar and those that went with him had years to adapt to Outland’s gravity. Varying amounts of muscle atrophy and having to fight for scraps, leaving many malnourished.

Khadgar was healthier now. He was filling out, and he shaved off that ridiculous beard. Modera suspected it was seeing the statue of himself in Stormwind that might have pushed him into doing so. Khadgar was glaring at her, his jaw set into a grimace. Modera’s eyes flitted down to the book that he had slammed on her table.

It wasn’t all that big. The Kirin Tor did well in guarding their secrets. Modera recognized the cover and the title in a heartbeat. She had a hand in its creation, after all.

“What the hell is this?” Khadgar asked, though he already knew the answer.

“It’s a book.” Modera answered bluntly.

Khadgar’s glare shifted into a look of disappointment. “Modera, really?”

“You walked right into that one--”

“It’s about Medivh, Modera.” Khadgar added, cutting her off. “No, not even that. It’s a strange mockery of him! He wasn’t in league with Sargeras. He was possessed!”

“Khadgar…”

“And him bewitching Garona Halforcen? Hypnotizing her to kill Llane?!” Khadgar paced back and forth. “Him taking advantage of me? That’s only the stuff I can stomach saying right now!”

“Khadgar!” Modera raised her voice. When Khadgar stopped his pacing and looked at her, she continued. “Look, I know things in that book make you angry. I’m sorry. But this is just how it has to be. Medivh was troubled, dangerous--”

“I gave you all a detailed report about what happened!” Khadgar said.

“Which was tainted by your own feelings for him, Khadgar.” Modera pointed out. “It was very obvious that you held very strong 'affections' for him.

Khadgar’s face grew hot as he flushed a deep red. “That’s...! Yes, I did. I loved him, but--”

“You were too biased. The council couldn’t accept it.” Modera explained.

Khadgar took a moment to recollect himself, taking a breath. “Yes, you’re right, I was biased. But what’s in that book are flat out lies. Whoever wrote that used my report as the bare bones for it and changed things.”

“It’s all for the greater good, Khadgar.” Modera said. “Look, Aegwynn was a loose cannon. She took something that wasn’t hers and wove it into her own child. Medivh wasn’t trained by us like you were, and look what happened.”

“How many times do I have to say this? He was possessed, Modera.” Khadgar ground out.

“How can you be so sure? Just because some deteriorating tower showed you some illusions?” Modera asked. “You have to understand, you might not have been thinking so clearly on matters.”

“Don’t.” Khadgar’s voice was as firm as stone and he pointed an accusing finger at Modera. Until that point, it had been much softer, lighter. Part of it from exhaustion from years of fighting and trying to survive. But Khadgar found that fire once again after reading that damned book. “Don’t you dare try playing that game with me. I’m not that boy from back then. I’ve grown and I can think for myself.” Khadgar took a moment to let the words sink in for Modera. “I knew Medivh, I knew him better and any of you ever could. This has nothing to do with the truth. I know that much. I want to know why this was written. Why drag Medivh’s name through the mud? Hasn’t he suffered enough?”

Modera gave a tired sigh. She leaned back in her chair and broke eye contact as she mulled over what to say. She knew she was being callus, she often had to be. If anyone, given his relationship with the fallen guardian, Khadgar was owed an explanation.

“We needed a villain.” she finally said. “You have to understand about politics, Khadgar. History is written by the winners. Sometimes, you need a villain to help put people at ease. The Council of Tirisfal and the existence of The Guardian are all confidential information.”

“And a system that eventually failed.” Khadgar added, his brow furrowed. There was a feeling in his gut, a growing unease. “So, you made Medivh into a boogieman, is that it?”

“He made for a very good cautionary tale, Khadgar. A hedgemage, someone who flaunted his magic at frivolous things like parties, looking for approval.” Modera said, recalling the meeting held as The Council of Six discussed how to approach the book. “When that wasn’t enough, he was swayed by Sargeras. Using one of his parties as a sacrifice to appease his dark master--”

“That’s enough.” Khadgar growled. “I’ve read it, I don’t need you to repeat it.”

“The point is, Medivh works as a great example for young students on why to follow the rules the Kirin Tor gives them.” Modera said. She could see that Khadgar was not satisfied with that answer. It was all she could give. “Look at it this way. He still serves a purpose, Khadgar. Medivh may be dead, but at least he can make up a little for his failings by providing this final service to us.”

“Modera, that’s disgusting!”

“It’s not that different from how we elevate flawed people into heroes, Khadgar.” Modera countered. “People need examples to live up to or avoid. Anduin Lothar has been mythologized, as were you, after you left through the Dark Portal.”

A chill crawled up Khadgar’s spine. He wasn’t a stranger to people making assumptions about him. He remembered how people used to think he was this incredible, wisened wizard. When in truth, he was really a young man who was way in over his head. Khadgar felt uncomfortable when he saw his own statue in the Valley of Heroes in Stormwind. It felt so wrong. It wasn’t really him; it was the idea of him. A standard that he never could live up to.

“That’s just the nature of heroes and villains, Khadgar.” Modera said. “You just happened to live and see your own legend with your own eyes.”

Khadgar was silent, but Modera knew that look he had on his face. The wheels in his head were turning, trying to work out something.

“Don’t even think about trying to ‘set the record straight’.” she warned him. “Khadgar, you’re a good friend, so I’ll give you this warning: If you try to write anything about this matter, it won’t be published. Dalaran has very strict policies. I need you to let this go.”

Khadgar locked eyes with her, but said nothing. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. In the end, she was right. There was no point in continuing this argument.

“Hold on to your memories of him.” Modera said, there was no malice in her voice. If anything, Khadgar could have sworn he heard a hint of pity. “It’s not a great situation, but take some comfort that at least one person still knows who he really was.”

Khadgar turned around and made his way towards the door and left.

-o-o-o-

Foreword: “Respectfully kiss my staff of power, Modera.”

Khadgar couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth. It was petty; he knew that, but he had learned from the best. It was true, there was no chance of this book being published by any printing company in Dalaran. However, if it was one thing that Khadgar had learned from his time with Medivh, it was that there was a much bigger and wider world outside of the city of mages.

Little did Modera know just how many friends Khadgar had made during his lifetime. He knew a few goblins and even some friends in Stormwind that gave him plenty of options. 

Khadgar smiled to himself as he wrote. Going over his memories of his time in Karazhan and with Medivh. He recalled how the man was sometimes like a living storm. Other times, he was full of warmth and affection. Khadgar promised himself he would approach his and Medivh’s stories as honestly as possible. Modera was right, Khadgar was here to see his own legend, and he could reject it.

-The End-

[maltacus]

The Cruel Ranger, Chapter 18

“Your mage is very warm, Ranger-General…”

“Yes. Yes, she is.”

Mira slowly turned to look from Jaina to Sylvanas and back again while her expression shifted in curious ways. First she appeared like an apprentice who had spotted an inconsistency in a spellbook that needed to be checked up. Then like Jaina probably would have if someone had tried to tell her that Archmage Modera had assigned her age class pastry conjurations for the rest of the afternoon. Then like Jaina definitely would have looked if Archmage Modera had confirmed it for fact and added that they were allowed to eat every successfully summoned mana bun.

“Maybe even…hot?”

Halahk kept shaking his head and chuckling to himself when they made their way to the village tavern, for some reason.

Realising that she had been discovered, Mira grinned widely at them.

“I’ve got to say, if this really is the afterlife, it doesn’t look half bad.”

[khadgarbignaturals]

*peeks out from under my rock* hey can u rant about why you hate Jaina? I mean, I’m reading the books (at a snails pace because psychic damage) and I don’t like her, but I’m curious to see what else she done did that’s got you peeved.

wall of text incoming. i dont care enough to put paragraph breaks so read at your own risk.

the biggest thing i despise her for is the purge of dalaran where she and the silver covenant (high elves lead by vereesa windrunner) went around dalaran and killed or imprisoned every blood elf they could find (including civilians). this included aethas sunreaver who is a blood elf mage that was really good at magic and worked really hard to make dalaran a faction neutral city and give blood elves a home within it. he was appointed to the council of six and worked closely with archmage modera to stop malygos’s attack on dalaran and to teleport the city to northrend. the point is that he was super powerful and did a lot of good for dalaran. just before mists, garrosh was threatening jaina’s city of theramore and went to the council of six to ask for aid. the council was against sending and because of their faction neutrality, but aethas cast the deciding vote to send a small force of kirin tor to theramore, not wanting to aid garrosh by not acting. the mage that was sent ended up being a spy for garrosh and theramore was bombed, completely destroying it. after this, jaina kind of went on a warpath, demanding the council of six join the alliance against the horde. the council remained neutral and aethas stated he had no idea that mage was a spy, and that breaking the kirin tor’s neutrality for vengeance is not the right thing to do. jaina stormed out of dalaran, stealing some books about a powerful magic artifact that she later planned to use to make another bomb to drop on orgrimmar, but was stopped by kalegcos. she returned to dalaran to apologize and requested to rejoin the kirin tor as a low ranking member but seeing that she had (supposedly) changed, and admiring her humbleness, the council voted her as leader of the kirin tor, a decision i find incredibly stupid but aethas was in full support of. at this point, garrosh had fully begun his whole anti alliance war thing and really wanted this pandaren artifact that jaina was protecting in darnassus. aethas caught a group of horse mages trying to find it and started scolding them for doing so, but realized that if this mission failed, garrosh would know exactly who thwarted it and (knowing him) the fallout would cost many blood elf lives so aethas remained silent and let the artifact be stolen. he had hoped jaina’s wrath would be less than garrosh’s. he was wrong. jaina was enraged and demanded all blood elves leave dalaran, and when aethas went to her and told her that the sunreavers were still neutral and had just as much of a right to live in dalaran as the humans, she imprisoned him in the violet citadel and went around dalaran with the silver covenant and killed or imprisoned any belves they found. she also is just generally racist against the horde but like, half the alliance is so she isnt special for that.

tldr: she was a huge dick to aethas sunreaver and is really racist against all horde but specifically blood elves, and the whole purge of dalaran thing.

[lothirielswan]

“Wanna Smell Books with Me?” [19]

Join the journey on AO3 too!

Quest Objective: Someone please hold Jaina's beer.

~Wrathion, the Violet Citadel~

“You have what was promised?”

The banners of lilac and cobalt churned at the top of the alabaster steps. Torches played games with shadows across the floor. Dalaran was known for its knowledge, and yet everything seemed hidden by a layer of smoke.

Grand Magister Rommath gestured with his hands, and a wooden crate settled on the cold ground.

Left and Right guarded the staircase at the bottom, so no one would interfere with our transaction. Anyone who came close was given a death stare along with a long rifle pointed at their nose. Such ferocity. Such power.

I lifted a talon. Two more agents descended from the shadows and cracked open the lid with their blades. Rommath raised a slender eyebrow, but gave no reply.

The artifact rested on cushions of silk. It's intricate golden design was uncanny, created by beings of much higher thinking. Certain parts of the strange machine gave off a soft glow. There was a subtle familiarity to it; it looked exactly like my visions from the Thunder King.

“Our archeologists scoured Northrend, the Badlands, Uldum. We found the pieces scattered throughout.” The Grand Magister explained. His features were bathed in twilight hues of gold, azure and violet that made up the room. The dark velvet of my robes were sun-kissed by the gleam of the artifact, like the first rays of dawn. A new beginning.

I hummed with satisfaction. No more hiding. No more shame. The Black Dragonflight will reclaim what is rightfully ours.  

“It was a pleasure doing business, Grand Magister,” His title rolled off my tongue. I snapped my fingers, and two more lackeys emerged from the darkness of the room to carry the crate out of sight. Rommath’s quirked eyebrow grew more rigid.

“You have an abundance of recruits.” He said.

I lightly shrugged my shoulders with a pinch of modesty. “I’m comfortable. I’m afraid you can't say the same.”

I heard of the plight of the sin’dorei. The filthy remains of the Scourge still ran across their homeland, and the elves’ numbers were few. It was a shame, such powerful sorcerers turned to arcane addicts. They did not wander ruins simply for the joy of finding lost artifacts.

Rommath did not appear pleased to bring up the state of his homeland. “That is not a Black dragon’s business.”

“But it could be.” I said.

The bare muscles of his arms stiffened. Rommath muttered, “In what way?”

“I have plans, Grand Magister. Plans that will change the course of Azeroth,” Said I. I was poised and proud, shoulders out as if I had my wings on display.

“Your people are near extinction; I can modify that. Your forces can join mine, and I will reward you.”

Rommath was silent for a moment. “You sound like the Betrayer.”

Illidan Stormrage. Another famous figure. I never had the luxury to meet the former Lord of Outland, but he surely lived up to his reputation during the Legion’s recent invasion.

I replied, “The Betrayer did what was necessary to achieve a higher goal; he opposed the Legion-–”

“And many died in that campaign.” Rommath took another step closer. His fists were clenched like two threatening boulders of marble. The bridge of his nose creased like cracked alabaster. “Many suffered. Many are still paying the price. I would caution you with whatever plot you have come up with.”

“...So that's a no on joining me?” I remarked, unfazed by his closeness and the pain laced within his voice.

The Grand Magister’s head cocked to the side. “The fate of my people is not for me to decide; that is the Regent Lord’s will, what little remains of it. I will inform him of your offer, and the costs.”

Rommath gave a curt nod with his scarf still covering his lips, a last mockery that I still did not know everything he did.

His back was to me when I called out one last time. “Grand Magister?”

His shoulders slumped from exhaustion, and faced me with his expression still disguised behind scarlet silk. “Yes, Black Prince?”

My lips curled into a smile, baring my teeth with sharp points to be persuasive. “I urge you to consider my proposal. I doubt your people would like to be on the wrong side of history a second time.”

Rommath’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps you should follow your own advice.”

~Eona, the Purple Parlor~

“Jaina, please-–”

“No. Jaina’s not here right now. Jaina’s on vacation.” Jaina held up a cautionary finger as she slumped down into one of the padded chairs. Her interest moved to the bookshelf near her as I pleaded with her.

“I don't know where Khadgar is and I got a bad-omens vibe from Chromie! Please? I’ll pay you back for the danish.” I replied.

Jaina shot me a foul look at the mere mention of the pastry. But she didn't answer. Instead, Jaina pulled a random book from the shelves, opened it, and hid her face behind the cover.

“Oh,” She moaned into the ink-smothered parchment filled with knowledge. “I miss that smell. I miss books. I miss my youth.”

I lowered her book so I could meet her gaze. “You’re still incredibly young.”

“Ha!” Jaina settled back in her chair and propped her feet up on the nearest table. “Young. What is young? Innocence. Ambition. Love…”

Her fingers suddenly clenched the leather cover of the novel. “Arthas is dead.”

I flinched and felt a pang of guilt. I managed a breathy response, “Yes, he is.”

Jaina gently tugged at the bottom of her braid. So much of her blonde locks had been consumed by the frosty white arcane. Her eyes were black and blue, like ice in the dark. Her voice was melodic like a river, and it had been frozen over. She was still young. But she looked exhausted, like the years had feasted on her spirit.

“It's an odd thing to say, but...I feel like him now.” Jaina’s attention was lost to some illusion that I could not see. Her fingers twitched towards the brooch. “Arthas, he was such a contradiction. He loved his people. He fought undead. He opposed dreadlords. Then he changed. He killed his people. He lead the undead. He took orders from dreadlords.”

Jaina stroked the crest with her thumb. “And now here I am. I used to have faith that everything would work out alright. I used to have faith in myself. Now...”

She shook her head, not for long, but with intensity, as if she could banish the thoughts like one could wring blood out of a healer’s rag. “Now I'm young. And my youth is gone.”

I didn't know what to say. I stole a chair from the other side of the table and dragged it next to hers. At random I plucked a book from one of the shelves and glanced over at her.

I bit my lip as I held up the novel. “Wanna smell books with me…?”

Jaina’s eyes were glassy as she stared at the cover. She nodded, a small smile on her lips. She wiped at her eyes. “I thought you would never ask.”

Our arms brushed together as I opened the first page and started to read. Yes, Khadgar and Dalaran needed us. But Jaina needed this more.

“The girl’s fiance dies in that one.” Jaina remarked.

I looked up at her smirk. “This is what I get for stealing your danish?”

“You brought a bookworm along to smell books, Eona. You should’ve known that something would get spoiled.”

~*~

We were still reading in the Purple Parlor when the air thickened from a teleportation spell. Arcane crackled across my skin and light filled the chamber.

I blinked a few times, stunned by the new change in the atmosphere. Jaina was used to the way of magics and was already standing, staff in hand. Her expression turned grim.

“Khadgar!” I ran to him as I made out his form.

I caught his arm as he stumbled, feeling the coldness of his skin through his dark blue robes. He was pale, and his forehead glistened with sweat as he swayed on his feet.

Archmages Modera and Aethas materialized on his sides. They wore the same drained expressions. Jaina helped Modera down as Khadgar teetered in my grasp.

“Eona...you never told me you had sisters,” Khadgar gasped. I held onto his arms, trying to still him as best as I could.

“Huh?” I said.

“Yes,” Khadgar held up a finger, pointing to the air around me. “There’s three of you...am I counting right? Aethas! What do your elf eyes see?”

“Stars...so many stars...” Aethas groaned and yanked off his hood to massage his temples.

I lead Khadgar to a one-armed sofa as he spoke in his dreamy state of delirium. “You know, I bet if Sylvanas raised me from the dead...I’d be like Beetlejuice.”

I sat the Archmage down and frowned as I leaned over him. “Please don't give me that mental image, Khadgar.”

“No, it's perfect! You can be Lydia! IT’S SHOWTIME-–wee!” I urged Khadgar down to lie on the sofa, smoothing out his hair as I did so.

I glanced over at Jaina as she examined the other two mages.

“What happened to them?” I asked. I wonder if Anduin is still here. He’s a skilled healer, he might know.  

“You know, Eona, you smell really nice.” Khadgar rasped below me. “Kind of like strawberries. Which is funny, you look like a strawberry. You’re covered in seeds…”

I crossed my arms. My white linen shirt came down to my elbows, so the freckles drizzled across my arms were still visible.

“Where were you last, Modera?” I heard Jaina ask.

I joined the two mages across the parlor. Modera seemed less hysterical than Khadgar, but just as exhausted.

“Violet Hold,” She gasped. “the prisoners escaped...we went to track them...they trapped us there. Kalecgos is still with them-–”

My eyes flew open. Jaina and I exchanged a look.

“–-then we faced the Vampyr…” Modera’s head tipped back as she gulped in air.

Jaina nudged my arm. She didn't need to. The two red dots on Modera’s neck said it all. I sprinted back to Khadgar. His skin was branded with the same two marks.

“Aethas too,” Jaina said quietly, smoothing her robes as she stood upright.

We backed away from the three limp mages, watching as their movements seemed to slow.

“If they…” I swallowed. “does that mean they’re stuck that way?”

“No. We have spells to remove it, and it's usually temporary. I can ask Anduin or Malfurion to tend to them.” Jaina glanced up at her own staff, then quickly retrieved the long weapons from where the mages lay.

I nodded, moving my hair away from the front of my face. As I did so, Khadgar leaned up slightly, sniffing the air.

“What about Kalec?” I said.

Jaina returned to my side with their staffs and her eyes flickered over the sleeping bodies. “We’ll get him together. I’ll meet you at Violet Hold. Let’s clean up the Kirin Tor’s mess before the summit has the chance to notice.”

We stepped back into the shimmering portal and our feet echoed as we appeared at the staircase of the Violet Citadel. Jaina raced towards the Anduin; I took the steps two at a time with my thoughts on Kalec.

I squinted as a familiar face lingered at the bottom of the steps. Grand Magister Rommath looked to my coming, his eyes analyzing me like a spellbook.

“Eona, I must speak with you.” He said as I was halfway down the mountain of steps. My calves were burning and I didn't care. Kalec’s face kept flashing before my eyes.

“I'm sorry, now is not a good time.” I remarked.

“It’s important-–”

“Then we’ll discuss it later.” I finally reached the bottom of the stairs and sped past him.

“You are going to slip if you move too swiftly, Lady Sunstrider.”

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

A/N: I love cliffhangers :3

Chromie: Me too! Although, I usually see them coming with my powers, but they're still entertaining--but that's not why I'm here. Author, you're messing with the timestreams!

Author: Don't worry, I have a permit.

Chromie: I'm sorry, Author. That bowl of edible cookie dough that you offered the Bronze Dragonflight was delicious, but it does not allow you to go willy-nilly with the past. The Dark Portal was closed for twenty years, making Eona's existence impossible!

*Awesome freaky lightshow happens. Nozdormu, Lord of Time, appears*

Nozdormu: Author, well met. I must say, your work with this new future for Azeroth is...entertaining, but Chronomu is correct.

Author: Jeez, Marvel didn't have these kinds of laws set up--then again, Deadpool was my co-writer. Protectors of Time, please hear me out! I have a loophole!

Nozdormu: Very well, Author. Do as you must. We will be watching...and if you can spare me a cameo, it would touch this old dragon's heart. You even let Kalecgos have a minor role in this story, and he's practically invisible!

Kalec: ...Thanks.

Author: Will do, Lord Nozdormu! Thanks for stopping by, Chromie! As for you Awesome Adventurers, you can actually witness the first time Eona's parents met now, in the recently updated "Protectors of the Present"! Hope you enjoyed c: love, fortune and glory to you!!

[wowwd-of-wawcwaft]

jaina, introducing a new adventurer to dalaran: the council of six is a group of extremely competent mages who– *opens doors to violet citadel*

khadgar: and that, my friends, is why i’m never going back to stranglethorn

modera: who knew being low on mana could lad to such... creativity

kalecgos: i usually just carry around a box of matches just in case

aethas: you are literally a dragon

kalecgos: I DON’T JUDGE YOUR LIFE CHOICES

jaina, slamming the door shut: as i was saying, i’ve never met these people before in my life

[wowheadquarters]

Top 10 most powerful mages

For a lovable anon. We do have a bunch of known and powerful mages running around Azeroth, but which are the strongest ones?

10. Tabetha - True, she doesn’t show up much, but then we never asked her nicely to help out in the crude situations. She is minding her own business and is completely happy. And let’s face it - for someone who taught magic more or less all by themselves outside of the Kirin Tor, she is far better, far more sane, and far more alive than the Dalaran folks like it.

9. Grand Magister Rommath - Elves are quite keen on magic, and Rommath is the one who fined Illidan’s whole “turn fel into arcane” or whatever it is that the Blood Elves did. And he is in charge of the Silvermoon Magisters, who are a band of neurotic mana-lusting psychopaths, so that means he can a) handle them, b) send them after whoever denies his standing on this list.

8. Archmage Modera - I mean, Dalaran is probably a very dangerous place, or at least used to be in the past, when you do politics, and research fields also tend to be very competitive. Modera is the longest standing member of Kirin Tor. Maybe it is that her power isn’t within her magic but rather intelligence and caution, but she staid alive and that signifies something.

7. Voren’thal the Seer - He’d make it probably higher in this list, but he is in the constant danger of coughing up his lungs or whatever his sickness is. He sees the future, guys. He already knows what moves you are going to use. Don’t piss off Voren’thal, I mean it.

6. Magister Umbric - I am just saying that an already quite powerful mage and a researcher got poked around by the Void so long that he snapped, took it and flailed it back with itself. The Randorei are quite powerful just by being thjemselves.

5. Jaina Proudmoore - While I don’t like Jaina, I must admit she is a very much a badass. Neither Blizzard nor Kirin Tor like to give women many opportunities to be something else that the tragic death in past of [insert male character], so it is quite a miracle she made it past Warcraft III. Additionally, Jaina has only the basic Mage training and no additional cool superpowers. She got where she got by hard work, which is very remarkable.

4. First Arcanist Thalyssra - The First Arcanist of the Suramar. Just look at everything she ever did. She is really, really powerful. I rest my case here.

3. Magnus Manastorm - The infamous father of Millhouse Manastorm. Not much is known about him except he is damn dangerous and that he would be far more dangerous in death.

2. Medivh - Dangerous and powerful mages are all fun and games until one of them turns into a gigantic murderous raven and goes straight for your face. Honestly, Medivh dealt with his inner Sargeras, tried to fix his mistakes. Still, there is a person who managed to kick Medvih’s ass, and that is...

1. Khadgar - We don’t even know his last name, he has a deeply troubled mind and battles depression while it goes unnoticed. He is always there for us when we need him. Anduin Lothar trusted him. A’dal taught him. Fucking Medivh himself gave him his staff and named him the Guardian.

Honorable mention: Kalcegos - He is a dragon of the magic itself, so he has an unfair advantage in this matter. Which is literally the only reason he isn’t in Khadgar’s position. Because he is, you know, a dragon, which tend to be very powerful.

[loremaster-milerna]

Everything on Milerna’s mind looks like a cheap 80′s manga, deal with it. Im always late but Merry Xmas, happy valentines day, happy new year, happy chinesse new year, happy bday to @archmage–khadgar @shadowphoenixrider @walkingdisasterofamage and many many more. based on an anecdote in the blog of @archmage–khadgar long time ago.

All the screentones comes from google, credits to all their creators. Modera's dress design comes from Love Nikki Dress Up Queen. No milerna's were harmed during the process of this, she just got grounded.

[astralune]

Deepest Blue: Astragosa, one of the Blue Dragonflight, is tasked with a mission to investigate a magical attack against all of Azeroth - but first, that means finding Jaina Proudmoore.

(Art by @starcunning , whose work is fantastic.)

(AO3 link)

Nominally, Astragosa served as a diplomat for her dragonflight, working to maintain relations with the Kirin Tor - and, quietly, the Violet Eye, and any other organisations of note in Dalaran.

Not that today it looked like that, from all the good she’d been able to do.

This war with the Legion is spinning out of control, she’d been told. Argus appears in the sky. Their forces harass us. And now we have signs of something going on out there. Some kind of magical assault against all of Azeroth. It should have brought us all to the flame. Instead its assault is blunted. We don’t know why. Let the mages know. We need to understand this attack. Her instructions that morning had been clear, and it had seemed easy enough.

She had made her way from her elegant accommodations accorded her station - Dalaran meant never running out of room for towers, or two-floor apartments with views to die for - and through the busy streets of the floating, cosmopolitan town. In her mortal guise - a blood elf, with light blue hair - she drew no more attention than any other did, only the form-fitting dress, fit for a fancy ball, and her elaborate jewellery - a circlet, earring and ear piercing, and a bracelet that twined around her lower arm - perhaps drawing eyes more than usual as she entered the Violet Citadel, and introduced herself to the clerk receiving visitors.

He knew her, of course, and swiftly had her escorted to a more private room, where she could wait more comfortably for Archmage Modera, the member of the Kirin Tor she usually interacted with as part and parcel of her duties.

She had waited, longer than she really should have, long enough for it to be a diplomatic incident were others involved, but she respected Modera, and believed she had her respect in turn, and so it was as the sun was setting that Modera arrived.

Apologies had been made, and she had made her case to the Archmage, but her reaction was not what had been hoped for.

“Astragosa,” she said with a weary sigh. “I appreciate your concerns, and I would personally agree we should investigate this. But speaking for the Kirin Tor, we’re simply drawn too thin on the ground. The war with the Legion has us strained for everything we can give right now and I doubt we can spare resources for this investigation. Whatever the attack is, it’s clearly being blunted; isn’t that enough? That’s likely to be the official response when I report this.”

Astragosa had paused, considering, as befit a diplomat. “The Blue Dragonflight will be disappointed. You will not object to my following up independently? We will still need to understand this, and the Dragonflight takes a somewhat longer view.”

Modera had smiled. “I’d expect nothing less. Feel free to ask for any assistance from individual mages, of course - but official aid will, I suspect, be too long in coming. I am sorry I cannot assist more than this.”

“As am I. I hope we will not come to regret not understanding this threat in time.”

Modera had taken off her metaphorical official hat as Astragosa left, to mention she’d be having a drink at the Legerdemain Lounge that evening with a smile. Astragosa had nodded, then left the Violet Citadel, only an hour of light remaining on what passed for the horizon here.

It seemed that if anyone was going to discover anything about this, it would have to be herself. But first, she had an appointment.

Her job, such as it is, may be described as ‘Diplomat’, but it didn’t define her - she had hobbies, interests, social occasions. In the pursuit of such personal activities, she’d ended up discovering an unexpected talent, which on occasion she indulged in.

Which is why, as the night stars twinkled in the sky, she found herself in another elegant dress, in the Legerdemain Lounge, singing for an appreciative crowd.

“...change with the color, change with the sun…” she sang, the microphone cradled in her hand. Toward the back of the room, Modera sat, and gave a wave. Astragosa favoured her with a quick smile.

“... always bright, bright eyes…” she sang, building up the crescendo as she brought the song home, soon drowned out by cheers and the noise of drink.

She exited the small stage area, and eschewed her own table for the moment to approach the Archmage, and slid gracefully into a seat, avoiding knocking the plates and dishes on the table.

“You really can’t help me?” she asked the mortal, who shook her head.

“I really can’t, I’m sorry,” she apologised over the din. “I’d like to - my curiosity is piqued, never mind the strategic arguments for investigation - but it’s been made clear to me our resources are strained and our hands are tied.” She shrugs, an all too-casual motion to cover a quick glance around the inn, before leaning over the table towards the dragon.

“From what you’ve said, there’s only a handful of mages we know of even capable of the sort of thing you’re talking about. That’s as good a starting point as any.”

Astragosa twisted her fingers, and the din of the inn receded, though she still spoke softly. The very tips of her hair deepened to a darker blue. “Excluding the possibility of an unknown magic wielder, of course.”

“Of course,” the archmage concurred, “but I wouldn’t know where to start looking for anyone or anything like that. I assume the Blue have their own list of powerful mages?”

“I cannot comment on the speculated existence of any such list maintained by the Blue Dragonflight,” she replied smoothly, as she reached for a glass of wine and downed a large gulp. “But I can probably guess some of the names on your list. Medivh, Aegwynn, Khadgar. Illidan, believe it or not. You.”

The archmage blushed faintly. “You flatter me. Though I cannot comment on the speculated existence of any such list maintained by the Kirin Tor,” she lied, eyes twinkling. “You forgot someone, though.”

Astragosa arched an immaculate eyebrow.

“Jaina Proudmoore. And unofficially, we don’t know what in the seven hells she’s up to.”

“But you do know what Medivh is up to? Aegwynn?” the diplomat asked, curious and a little incredulous.

Modera gave her a flat look. “I’m just having a conversation, Astragosa. If you decide to do something with that information, that’s on you.”

Astragosa reached across the table, and helped herself to a slice of the citrus cake on the plate in front of the Archmage; she took the moment to think as she bit into the cake, and ignored the indignant glare at her food theft.

“The Blue don’t know where Jaina is either,” she confessed eventually, having finished the cake slice. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. We both know you had that citrus here specifically to butter me up.”

“Well, that’s a shame. I was rather hoping you did know where we was, and could save us both a lot of effort.” Modera shook her head. “That whole mess was poorly handled by everyone. Mages are not always the most diplomatic.”

Astragosa smiled radiantly. “You don’t say,” she added brightly, as she stole another cake slice.

Modera gave her a withering look. “I can’t deny the Kirin Tor would be interested in locating Jaina. But I do think she’s your best starting point. Trouble is, we have worse than nothing to go on - the worst kind of intel you could imagine.”

“Hit me,” she replied, having washed the cake down with some more wine. “I can imagine some pretty bad intel.”

“Well, the only thing in the entire Kirin Tor intel net since she went missing was a drunken brag from a mage.”

“A drunken brag- You must be joking.” “I wish I were,” Modera replied ruefully. She turns in her seat to indicate with a glance at a table across the room. A tall, reedy, red-haired blood elf male sits alone at the table, leaning back casually in his chair while he regards the mug before him, unaware of their scrutiny. “Well, I say mage. Not really. Kind of. His background is a long story, but he shouldn’t bite.”

“He’s kind of cute,” Astragosa noted absently. “What do you mean, not really a mage?”

“Well, he never really made it through the training. Not a dues-paying member, you might say. Enough natural talent to pass, and he’s picked up some stuff along the way. Reports are sketchy on him more recently - he simply isn’t important enough. But I just don’t have anything else to go on. Jaina covered her tracks well.”

“And that’s concerning you.”

“And that’s what concerns me,” she confirmed with a sigh.

She considered the mortal for a moment. Well, it was probably nothing, but it was a starting point. And even if it ended up being unconnected to this planetary magical assault, finding out Jaina’s activities would be important too. “What’s his name?” she asked, preparing to walk over.

“It was Rivenblaze,” Modera noted, reaching for the remains of her Citrus cake. “Malithern Rivenblaze.”

Astragosa sauntered over to the table, taking on a striking pose, one hand against her upper thigh, and turned on a winning smile.

This Malithern, for his part, failed to notice for a lengthy half-dozen seconds, which she tried not to take personally.

When he did notice, he flailed quite spectacularly, hands gripping the table and almost tipping it as he tried to regain his balance, and she suppressed a giggle. Well, that almost makes up for it, she thought.

“Uh, um, who are you?” he finally asked, belatedly kicking out the seat to his left towards her for her to sit, an offer she graciously accepted, and slid into the chair with grace.

“You can call me Astra,” she said, doing her damndest to be charming. “I was hoping you could help me with something.” She smiled at him again, like inviting him into a secret.

He gave her a brittle smile, glanced left, then right. “This, uh, doesn’t happen to me. I mean, I’m flattered, and you’re quite-”

She did laugh this time, soft and chiming. “Oh! No, no, I’m sorry, no.” She looked him over quickly. “I mean, maybe, sometime, but no. My friend over there - stars, I know what that sounds like - well, we were having a chat.” Modera waved over at them, her mouth stuffed full of cake.

“Your friend?” Mali asked dubiously, fighting the instinct to shrink into his chair, or perhaps run.

“Yes!” she said brightly.

“Your friend Archmage Modera?” he asked, increasingly dubiously.

“Well, yes!” she said, just as brightly. “We we having a friendly chat, about things and, well, she thought that you might be able to help us settle a bet between us.”

“A bet?” Mali asked, feeling that this conversation had fallen entirely out of his control.

“Yes!” Astragosa replied, feeling the strain of keeping this up. “She bet that Jaina Proudmoore was hiding in Kul Tiras, and I bet that Jaina was hiding in Dalaran somewhere.”

“Hah!” Mali exclaimed, relaxing a little, and taking a drink from his mug. “You’re both wrong. Jaina’s hi-” He suddenly cut off, his eyes going wide.

Astragosa leaned in, hungry for his answer. “Yes? Jaina’s where?”

“Shit,” he swore. “Nothing. I said nothing.” He glanced about the room, frantic.

“Oh, no, you said someth-” Astragosa began, as Malithern twisted his hand in an all-too familiar gesture. Arcane energies swirled into place, formed a portal horizontal on the floor, beneath his chair, and Malithern fell through it at the speed of gravity, escaping the inn.

Astragosa sighed, her frustration building.

His portal had dropped him off in the front garden of his new estate, modest by any elven standards, but a place he could finally call his own nonetheless. Long practise at quick escapes meant the chair that came with him was no hindrance as he made his way towards his front door-

- and smacked full-body into the high elven woman from the inn.

She grunted as he walked into her, and sighed as he fell backward to the ground.

“How?” he asked as he scrabbed for purchase, and pulled himself back to his feet.

“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to be sweet but the facade was cracking. “I didn’t introduce myself properly. I’m Astragosa, Blue Dragonflight, and you won’t outdo me at portals.”

“...a dragon?” he asked, appearing stupefied. “A blue dragon, and Archmage Modera- No. No, no, no.” His hand twisted again, and as she cried out for him to stop, he disappeared through another portal.

Her brow furrowing, she concentrated on following the throughline. He’d ported to Ashenvale- no, Tirisfal Glades - no, he was porting from place to place now, a new trick now turned old. Kalecgos has been fooled by it once, bless him, and she felt a stab of rueful amusement from when she’d first been drunkenly told the story that she tried to ignore as she focused on this Malithern’s trail.

Tanaris, Feralas, Mulgore - Stars and Sun, he was bouncing about! She kept on the trail, brow furrowed, until she felt it stop - a mere few dozen feet away, here in outer Suramar.

Inside the estate, a light behind the front door came on.

She stalked a few steps towards it. “You can’t hide like that,” she called out. “That trick doesn’t work!”

There were a few seconds of silence, then his sullen voice called back. “It worked on Kalecgos when Jaina did it!”

She suppressed an urge to laugh. This wasn't the time. “We learnt from that. And I just want to find Jaina. It’s for a good cause!”

“I don’t care,” he called back. “You’re going to drag me into trouble. I’ll have no part of it, and you can’t force your way in here to make me.”

“I wouldn’t even try,” she retorted. “But I’m not leaving here until you help me.”

Another short silence. “I hope you like the front yard,” he called out. “I’m not letting you in. You have nothing to offer me.”

She stared at the front door in silence, until his footsteps could be heard, fading as he moved deeper into the estate. “We’ll see about that,” she quietly promised herself, looking about for a seat or bench to make herself comfortable on.

She could convince him.

It had been a month, and she had not convinced him.

He hadn’t let her in, of course, and after a few days, when she’d decided to test him by summoning a few creature comforts - enough for, say, some outdoors camping - and set it up in his front yard, he had not complained or tried to stop her. He hadn’t made himself a hermit either, regularly leaving his estate and roaming the forestry behind it - it appeared he was trying to conduct some research with the magical imbuement of the region. She could have helped, if he’d asked, but he did not, content for her to observe him clamber through the dense woodlands from his fenceline until he returned.

She had tried to make her case, on multiple occasions, but he was unwilling to entertain the notion. “I’ve had enough of that,” he’d say over her objections, and retreat into his estate.

One night it had snowed, and though she didn’t really need it, late that evening the front door had creaked open, then closed, and on inspection he’d left a large mug of hot chocolate out for her. Not completely uncaring, she’d mused, sipping the drink thoughtfully as she sat out in the weather - for the cold didn’t bother her all that much. Coldarra has been worse.

Still, she hadn’t made any headway, and it was time for a different tack. She’d managed some research during her time here, and it was time to get some help from another source.

The next day, she waited until he had left for his circuit through the woods, then teleported out.

Orgrimmar was not a comfortable place for her to be. It stank, and had inadequate garbage disposal. Elves were a little less common a sight, so she drew more eyes.

Her quarry, she knew, would be at The Wyvern's Tail, an inn of dubious repute near the gladiator arena. Casting about, she saw a female blood elf sitting at a table in the back, her blonde hair close-shaven. Making her way over, she slid into the opposing chair and spoke over the objection her quarry was already voicing.

“I need to know how to get at your brother.”

“... explain yourself.”

“My name is Astragosa. I’m trying to persuade your brother to assist me with an investigation, but he is….”

The blonde blood elf - Halesia, according to her research - grinned wickedly. “Pig headed? Mulish? An unrepentant jackass?” “Stubborn, I would say,” Astragosa replied, failing to suppress a smile.

“Runs in the family,” Hal said proudly. “He’s not an idiot, though. Is there a reason for him to not want your time of day, dragon?”

She considered the mortal for a moment. “I can’t promise there won’t be some danger, but mostly I want some information from him.”

“Usually he’s pretty good about sharing information, good - well, not-so-good - academic and all that.”

“It involves the location of a powerful mage whose location may not otherwise be obvious.”

“Someone dangerous is missing, you mean.”

“... Yes.”

“And doesn’t want to be found.”

“Probably, yes,” she admits.

“Is it important?”

“It’s cliche, but the world may be at stake.”

Halesia looked up, and peered into her eyes. “Are you gonna get my brother hurt?”

Astragosa answered very seriously. “I will do everything in my power to protect him.”

Halesia considered for a few heartbeats, her eyes narrowed.

“Are you going to embarrass him?”

“Maybe a little. He did make me camp in the front yard for a month.”

“Good. He- wait, he what? Oh, sun, he’s earnt this. Okay. So you’re trying to get him to help you out?”

“Yes,” Astragosa answered with a sigh of relief, and relaxed into her seat. “He won’t accept my arguments for why he should help with this cause.”

“Like I said, he’s stubborn.” She grinned wickedly at her again. “But honestly, you’re halfway to convincing him as is.”

Astragosa tilted her head, confused. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“You’re his type,” Halesia explained. “Well. Nearly. You can do magic he’d literally risk death to study, you’re an extremely attractive high elf - well, dragon, but close enough - and you’ve proven capable of being in the same vicinity as him for longer than thirty minutes.” She sculled the drink on her table, then slammed the empty mug down, signalling for a refill. “If you threw in bigger tits, he’d be out to help you before you knew it.”

“You make him sound shallow,” Astragosa noted, as she arched an eyebrow.

“No, not shallow - lonely. What do you know about his history?”

“There’s not much of a report. He failed to complete basic training, apparently wandered a bit-”

Halesia scoffed loudly as her drink was replaced. “He was driven out for being better than his teachers, who couldn’t stomach it. He learnt to live the hard life on his own without anyone looking out for him or resources to keep him pampered.” She looked away a moment, reflective. “I know how that kind of thing is. I’m proud of him, in a way - don’t you dare tell him that - but the point is, he knows the smell of danger a mile off and has no reason to do that dance again, not now that he’s finally gotten a toehold on some security. So appeal to him socially, and get your foot in the door. He’s a good guy, under it all, and probably gets that whatever you’re about needs doing, he just needs a reason to put what he’s got at risk that comes more from the heart.” She looks up at her eyes again. “Don’t hurt him. I’ll find you, if you do.”

“I won’t. So, let him get to know me, maybe like me, then he’ll help me?”

“Maybe. It’s friendship, dragon. Or a booty call. Whatever. It’s not a spell, with a guaranteed result. But don’t offer him what you aren’t willing to actually give.”

Astragosa smiled. “Oh, I’d be willing to give it a go. Your brother’s not unattractive. Mmm, that mussed-up red hair…”

“Ugh,” Halesia complained, pantomiming gagging noises. “I’m going to be sick. Please leave if you’re going to talk about this.”

Astragosa grinned victoriously. “I can certainly offer friendship. The Blue have often had good bonds with mages.” She tapped her fingers against her chin in thought. “Magic he’d risk dying to study, you said. I think I have some ideas.” She stood up from the table. “Thank you for your help. I appreciate your trust in me.”

Halesia snorted into her mug. “You can tell me about the look on his face later. I bet it’ll be hilarious.” She looked up suddenly. “Did you tell anyone about me? Or my relationship to Mali?”

“Your secret is safe with me,” she assured her. “Thank you again.”

Astragosa left the inn, and found somewhere quiet to teleport back to Malithern’s estate, back in Suramar. She had some work to do.

Malithern had gone about his daily routine, running the circuit in what he had started to think of as his backyard. Of course, when he came back, she was there. Still. Busying herself with some kind of project, but still there.

He hadn’t been able to summon the harshness to demand she leave, but he wasn’t about to let her pull him into some damned fool adventure. He’d had enough of those, and had finally secured a home, and a project to research, things he’d never thought could be his again, and, as the sun set, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t let that be taken from him.

He’d conjured up a roast meal - long ago, he’d decided biscuits weren’t enough to live on and experimented enough to conjure decent enough walk-in restaurant food - and then had conjured another, and set it outside his front door for her. He doubted she needed it, but, well, it felt like the right thing to do.

It was early night, though this far out from Suramar City, it was dark outside but for the faint twinkling of stars. He was in the small library, reading a book, when he felt the hairs on his arms stand up, followed by the smell of ozone and arcane magic.

She was doing something out there.

He stood up, and walked towards his front door, concentrating on trying to figure out what she was doing. The latticing wasn’t structured right, the formation obscure, the framework arcane - what was she doing? The edges of the front door glowed blue - whatever she was doing out there was giving off a light show.

He hesitated, dithering over his next step a moment, before he made a frustrated noise and opened the door, stepping out to see what the hell she was doing. He stepped out into the front garden and-

She stood there, facing the magic circles he’d had lain into the ground when he came here, her back to him, and a giant channel of cerulean magic was raging up out of the ground, into the sky. Bright lightning bolts crackled off spectacularly from the edges, branching out into the sky before fading out as afterimages. The wind curled around the arcane torrent, whipping around and drowning out background noise.

Astragosa, he noticed faintly after all this, was butt naked, the tips of her hair having shifted from the light blue they still were at the root, to a deep, dark aqua, magic streaming off her body. Only jewellery adorned her. And he was fairly positive she hadn’t been nearly that busty before.

“What are you doing?” he’d cried out over the racket. “What is this?”

It had taken the work of half an hour to prepare the spell, and then, with a deep breath, she’d put it into motion, pulled all the disparate parts together into an interlocked whole, and opened the arcane conduit.

As a side effect, she’d siphoned off some of the energy of the system and, having taken Halesia’s advice to heart, enhanced herself. May as well go all in, she’d thought.

It hadn’t taken long for him to barge out of the estate, having caught that she was up to something. With a nostalgic mix of irritation and amusement, she noted that he stared wonderingly at the conduit, before he stared wonderingly at her.

“What are you doing?” he’d cried out, nearly drowned out by the din. “What is this?”

“It’s an arcane conduit,” she replied, turning just enough to the side to give him a really good eyeful of her naked body. “You asked, when I came here, what was in it for you. I can teach you this. If you’re willing, if you’re able.” He seemed to be listening, though torn between looking at her and at the vortex. A little vulnerability crept into her voice, despite her best efforts. “Please. I need your help.”

“I… how does this even work?” He held a hand towards the conduit, senses outstretched, seeking understanding. “I can see how you’d siphon energy from it, but the structure makes no sense to me…” He turned to face her. “Why would you do this?” He paused a moment, then blushed slightly. “Why are you naked? And, uh…”

Astragosa smiled. “Like I said, Malithern, I need your help. I will teach you how to harness this magic, this secret of the Blue. I would, perhaps, be a friend to you.” She smiled at him in a way she hoped was enticing. “As for being naked… do you not like what you see?” She pulled a hand to the base of her throat, accentuating the side profile of her exaggerated curves for him. “If you wish it, I would share myself with you. Let you partake of me. Do you not like this form, that I have changed for you?” She posed provocatively, backlit by bright blue magefire.

He’d swallowed nervously. Quite clearly, he did like her form. Eventually, he found his voice. “You are trying to tempt me.”

“Yes,” Astragosa confessed without guile. “I need your help. You asked what I could offer. The conduit.” She looked at him over her shoulder, and bit the corner of her lip. “And I’d like to get to know you. If you’re interested. Will you accept?”

He looked at her, then back at the conduit, then back at her. “Turn it off, and come inside,” he said.

“And then will we come inside?”

He blushed deep red in embarrassment as she smiled, and shut down the conduit, and turned to take his arm in hers and walk towards the front door. “You can touch me, you know. I won’t bite. Unless you want that.”

The next morning, she awoke in a large bed to find Malithern already up, and the smell of honey pancakes drifting in from the dining room. She’d wasted no time in conjuring up a sheer robe to loosely wrap herself in and joining him for breakfast.

He was sitting at a table, dressed similarly - a comfortable robe draped over his shoulders, his chest bare -  and appeared to have as much of an appetite now as last night. Directed elsewhere, though, from the empty plates already scattered across the available bench space. He nodded at her in greeting, and gently kicked out a chair for her across from him. She gratefully sank into the chair, letting out a content sigh.

“You promise to teach me, right?” he asked around a mouthful of pancake, as he handed a plate of them to her. “Once this is all done?”

“I swear,” she promised solemnly, gratefully taking the offered pancakes and setting herself to devouring them with a hunger. “You do know something about Jaina, don’t you?”

“I know she’s powerful, and dangerous when roused,” Malithern answered. “I know scuttlebutt is that she’s gone off the deep end, but I don’t buy that anymore than you probably do. Sounds like the Kirin Tor trying to cover up something dumb they did.”

“Did I mention my role as ambassador to the Kirin Tor?” she asked mildly.

“You did not, but you were associating with Modera, so I’m not surprised.” He swallowed more pancake. “Are you saying the Kirin Tor wouldn’t try to cover up something dumb they did like this?”

“No,” she agreed with a sigh, “that’s exactly the sort of thing they’d do. The Kirin Tor Expressly Forbids, blah blah.” She shrugged at him. “I usually don’t admit it, though, so please don’t spread that around.” She looks at him thoughtfully. “You know where she’s gone, don’t you.”

He looked at her across the table. “Maybe,” he said with a self-effacing shrug. “I know a place that Jaina knows about and pretty much no-one else does. It seems like the sort of place she might be.”

She looked more excited as he went on. “You’ll tell me where this place is?” she asked, her eyes alight.

He looked pained. “I… look, it’s a dangerous place, and I’d be breaking a confidence and- what are you doing?”

Astragosa had pulled back the hem of her robe and arched her back, which pushed her breasts forward. “I thought maybe I could persuade you-”

“No!” he swiftly cut her off. “I mean, yes, but no, that’s not necessary. I don’t think I should tell you. But I think I can take you there.”

She’d smiled, tucking her breasts away - such as they were in the sheer robe - and returned to her pancakes. “Thank you, Malithern,” she said.

“It’s what…” A pause, almost a stutter. “...friends do.” He, too, attacked his breakfast, but soon broke the silence with a question of his own. “Your hair. It’s light blue, but last night I would have sworn it has dark blue-green tips.”

Astragosa nodded. “It’s an effect of active magic, usually,” she explained. “It causes the colouration when I’m casting something.”

“Ahh. I rather liked it,” he noted distantly.

She concentrated a moment, and the tips of her hair darkened more permanently to deep teal. “There. Like that?”

He looked surprised. “Yeah. It looks good on you.”

She smiled sweetly. “Well, you let me tweak your proportions last-”

“Yes, well, that’s all good then!” he interrupted.

She chuckled softly. “You’re too easy to goad. I rather like that.”

He gave her a wry look, then, smiling, they finished off their pancakes together.

“Why are we hiking?” she’d asked.

“Why not?” he’d replied.

They had spent that day preparing, finishing their work in the late evening. They didn’t leave until it was about three hours to midnight, when Malithern opened a portal into the mountains edging Feralas. There, they’d started a trek up a steep, almost entirely overgrown path.

“Because we could portal up there easily,” she’d retorted.

“Go on then, try,” he’d goaded her.

“Fine.” With a huff of breath to move a lock of hair out of her eyes, she’d set her hands on her hips and willed open a portal, which she’d stepped to-

There was no portal.

She made a surprised noise, and moved to recast it.

“Don’t bother,” he advised her. “It doesn’t work. Not since a few minutes after we started. Someone shielded this place, somehow.”

She glanced sharply at him. “That’s not possible. There’s only a handful of people in recorded history who could achieve this sort of block on this sort of physical and temporal scale…. You know who did it, don’t you?” she accused him, as he grinned at her.

“I know who did it,” he exults in confessing.

“Tell me!” she implored him.

“And spoil the surprise?” he asked, getting back to the hike.

“How did you find this place?” she asked him, a few minutes later.

“Funny story,” Malithern said. “Long one, too. Ask me later for that version, if we make it back.” Overhead, one full moon shined down on them through the mottled treetops. “The short version is that I was travelling through this region, many years ago. Being chased by a felhunter, if you must know. Ran into the area of effect of this place and it stopped dead in its tracks. Turned and ran off.”

“Is that when you, too, tried to rabbit out?” she snarked.

“It was then,” he tried to continue nobly, “that I partook of the better part of valor, and attempted the noblest of portal escapes. At which point I found it didn’t work, and discovered this path, which I followed to the end.”

“Where you found…?” she prompted eagerly.

“Where I found… what I found. And also, one Jaina Proudmoore, who was almost as insistent as you in prying details out of me about all this.”

“It’s for a good cause.”

“As you’ve explained. We’ll see.”

“Did Jaina implement this portal block, then? I didn’t think she had the capacity until fairly recently-”

“No,” he answered, and shook his head. “She didn’t. You’ll see.”

“You and your surprises,” she grumbled.

“Surprises? You were casting unknown magic on my lawn. Naked. Without forewarning.” He sounded amused.

“I wanted you to help me. And you quite enjoyed it in the end, as I recall,” she retorted fondly.

“I did,” he noted, almost sounding surprised. “I hope you did too.”

“Oh, yes,” she hastened to reassure him. “Definitely.”

“Well, I’m glad. But my point is: surprises can be good.”

Astragosa resigned herself to a frustrated sigh. “I suppose. When will we get to where we’re going?”

Malithern pointed up at the lone moon in the sky. “Midnight, of course.”

At the end of the path, hidden in a small glade, lay a magic circle, entrenched into the ground, the likes of which she could feel the energy radiating off of like heat from a stove plate.

“What’s this about?” she’d asked him.

Malithern scratched at his chin thoughtfully. “Well, it’s a magic circle,” he answered.

“Smartass,” she grumbled. “I mean, what-”

“I know what you mean,” he answered. “But it is a magic circle. As far as I know, the only way to portal out of here, to a specific place. It’s, well, a doorway. Jaina, I think, used to come nearby. You know those flattened plateaus just north of here?”

Astragosa had nodded.

“I think she used to come out to those plateaus when she was pissed off at something. See, she could scream at everything and it wouldn’t matter, right? I think that’s how she stumbled across this. I think that’s why she was here when I found it.” He walked up to the magic circle, and stubbed his toe across it, then looked up at the visible moon.

“I think it’s time, Astra,” he called softly to her.

She stepped closer to him. “Where are we-”

As she reached him, he twisted his fingers, and suddenly they were somewhere else.

“-going?” She looking around, gawking.

The floor was ornate tile, marble-white. The room was warmly lit, large and open, almost like they were at one end of a promenade that curved off into the distance. Sleek metal pillars of gold and ivory supported the ceiling, which was a framework of triangular metal-wrought girders, separated with what was presumably glass panels.

It appeared to be holding the ocean back, and beyond it, an unparalleled view of the sky, with Argus burning bright to one side, and a moon to the other. Holographic readouts blipped in and out of visibility, as they highlighted areas of the sky. A gentle, reassuring pulsing hum served as background noise.

“Welcome,” Malithern announced, “to Aegwynn’s Secret Underwater Lair.”

“To Aeg- No. No, it can’t be. We located her hideouts, her bases of operation-” Astragosa sputtered.

“The ones she wanted you to find out about, apparently,” Malithern noted. “You wouldn’t have been able to enter here alone, mind. You needed a mortal, like me, to make any of this work.” He reached for a nearby pillar, and pushed a recessed button. “Hello,” he called into the pillar. “Anyone home?”

“Why have you intruded into this place?” a voice cried out, through not from the small speaker - from the silhouetted figure coming down the promenade, staff in hand. “Malithern. And you have brought her, a Blue Dragon, with you?” The voice sounded threatening. “Explain yourself.”

“Ahh, there you are,” Malithern said, and offered a weak wave. “How are you, Jaina?”

Boldly she strode toward them, until she was before them, proud and forthright, staff in one hand by her side. She did not look pleased.

“I ask again, why are you here? And with her, of all people?” Jaina glanced at Astragosa, then had a double-take. “Did you change your hair?” she asked with a frown.

“Jaina!” Malithern interrupted. “So good to see you. Maybe we could come in, have some tea - it’s been a bit of a hike, as you recall, and it’s just after midnight local time…”

Jaina’s glare passed back to him. “First, I will be assured you haven’t come here to do some damn fool idiocy like saving me from myself or taking me to Dalaran or blowing me up.” She bit off the last few words, anger laced through them all.

“What?” Malithern responded, surprised. “No! No we are not. Right, Astragosa?”

“I know you,” Jaina said, her attention focused now on the dragon. “You’re the Blue ambassador. Are you here to do the Kirin Tor’s bidding? I can guess how you swayed Malithern here to assist you.”

“Hey-!” Malithern began, as Astragosa moved to cut him off. “No,” she said. “She’s trying to provoke us.” A flash of acknowledgement in Jaina’s eyes. “I won’t deny the Kirin Tor would like to find you - and this place - but I am not here on their business. You were my best lead on another issue of paramount importance, and my task is in resolving that, not in anything you might be up to.” She paused for a moment. “You… aren’t up to anything I’d be honour-bound to stop, are you?”

“Astra!” Malithern cried out.

“No,” said Jaina, and only now had the hint of a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth, “she’s right to ask. It’s her duty, as a Blue.” Jaina sighed, and some of the tension left her. “I swear I am not engaged in any task you’d want me to stop. I’m glad you aren’t here to try anything foolish. I know what the Kirin Tor says about me in public, and others besides. That I’m crazy, that I’ve gone rogue. That I’m out of control, lost perspective, acting out of grief and running away when the Legion is here at last.” She made a frustrated sigh. “I’m not that person. Come. Let me get you some tea, and let’s sit, and discuss.”

Aegwynn’s Secret Underwater Lair, Astragosa had to admit, was a marvel of design. They sat now in the dining area, in comfortable chairs, with mugs of warm tea - citrus flavoured, she’d noted with surprise - and she’d found Jaina to be more personable than she’d expected, given the circumstances, as she talked about the events that had lead to here.

“First, let me apologise for earlier,” Jaina opened with now that everyone was comfortable. “You were correct, I was being incendiary. I had to be sure of you intentions, given the vital work I’m engaged in here.” She turned to Malithern. “And I’m sure she persuaded you with rational argument to bring her here.”

Astragosa tried not to look like she’d been caught with her hand in the biscuit barrel. “Err. Yes, of course.” She shifted in her chair slightly. “And think nothing of it. But, you mentioned a ‘vital work’ of yours?”

Jaina nodded. “Yes. Let me see, where to begin.” She sipped at her tea for a moment.

“Theramore had fallen,” Jaina explained, and her voice only cracked a little at the statement. “And I was… distraught. I was entitled to that, but in my despair I was going to do something terrible. I was persuaded not to.” She nodded at the dragon.

“Yes,” agreed Astragosa. “I’ve heard that story. Confidentially,” she assured her.

“It speaks to the power of allies,” Jaina continued. “I had an ally who talked me down when I was on the brink of creating a tragedy, and I am grateful he did. But it took me longer to work through my anger and hurt. I was outspoken against the Horde, because without my anger to mask it, my sorrow would surface. And of the two… my sorrow was the greater.”

“Varian made moves I disagreed with. The disputes were played up in the public eye. And then, the Broken Shore…”

“I heard, later, what had happened. You see, I wasn’t there for the end. I had created an ice bridge, for our forces to move onward, and was preparing to follow, when I felt it. People don’t realise what it truly means when they say that the forces we fight against are legion. It’s cliche, but the scope of forces at their command... “

Jaina had taken a deep breath before continuing. “I felt the spells winding up, there on the Broken Shore, close to their invasion portals. They were preparing a magical assault the likes Azeroth has never seen - magi from countless, infinite worlds, their might concentrated on ours, on breaking through, on rending Azeroth entirely, all at once. It could not be allowed. It would have truly been the end of everything. The scope is beyond consideration. And here we were, marching onto an island atol with ground forces, like it meant something.” She’d shaken her head.

“I don’t meant to demean anything achieved there that day. But understand me, it would have all been for naught unless this magical attack were repelled. And as best as I could tell, no-one else had even noticed it, let alone were positioned to defend against it.” She glanced towards the dragon questioningly.

“It’s interesting that you mention it,” Astragosa replied. “My mission was to investigate a world-encompassing magical assault against all of Azeroth that was, somehow, being repelled.”

Jaina smiled wide. “Ahh! So you have caught it, though somewhat later than desired.”

“I presume you are doing the repelling?” Astragosa asked.

“I left the Broken Shore immediately,” Jaina replied. “I came to here, a place I had discovered some years ago - as had Malithern here,” she added with a gesture to the other mage, who nodded in recognition. “Aegwynn’s bolthole, if you will - a secret place to do necessary work, away from worldly distractions.”

“And away from oversight,” Astragosa noted, with an arched brow.

“Come now,” Jaina said, as she poured herself some more tea. “I haven’t forced you out of here - and trust that I could - and we both know the Violet Eye accomplishes little. The Council of Tirisfal is long gone. That leaves the Kirin Tor and the Blue Dragonflight, of which the former portrays me as a madwoman lost in grief, and the latter has only now discerned that I have been saving this world for…” Jaina glanced up at a holographic readout in the sky. “... four hundred and sixty nine days and counting.” She raised her own eyebrow at the dragon. “I think I’m doing okay. Besides, it had to be done from here.”

“How did you do it?” Astragosa asked, as she glanced around what she can see of the facility from here.

“I can’t say for certain, but I think Aegwynn constructed this place. There’s some titan influence in the design, but I can’t find any evidence that it’s a relic from their time. Regardless, this laboratory is purpose-built to monitor and report on the state of Azeroth and her backyard in the universe. This place helps me focus and distribute the defensive magic I’m using to hold the assault at bay.”  Jaina made a wry expression. “Admittedly, the Thunder King’s power helps a lot. The upshot is, I have been unable to leave until the assault on Azeroth abates, which to date it has not.”

“You couldn’t send anyone a letter, Jaina?” Malithern asked, as he reached for the plate of biscuits, helping himself.

“The Blue Dragonflight would have been reluctant to leave this facility in mortal hands,” Astragosa conceded regretfully.

Jaina nodded. “And the Kirin Tor and I were having a rough patch. Still are, by their account. Like I wouldn’t do my part to defend all of Azeroth from the Burning Legion because of personal tragedy.” She scoffed softly, but the pain of said tragedy was threaded beneath.

“Your reputation in the political sphere is being tarnished, while you labour to save us all,” Astragosa noted simply. “I will have to report to the Kirin Tor. It is mine to write, but… what would you prefer it to say, were it yours to influence?”

“You can’t tell them where I am,” Jaina said. “No, Mali, it’s true,” she added, waving off his objection. “We discussed this last time. The Kirin Tor would have this placed filled with bumbling idiots who would, I don’t know, trigger another Reorigination or something. It’s too dangerous.”

Astragosa sighed. “It’s true the Kirin Tor has not handled some things well of late. The war against the Legion spirals out of control. Illidan brought Argus to our sky without their knowledge-”

“Oh, is that how that happened?” Jaina interrupted. “I had wondered what tactical genius thought that was the best plan to pursue. Did anyone tell him about the stresses caused by the gravitic field interactions?”

“I heard someone tried, actually,” Astragosa noted with an academic tone. “Apparently, his response was a long pause, followed by-” she dropped into a fair approximation of his gravelly tone - “I knew that.”

Jaina laughed, and the sound tinkled around the underwater lair. “Light, it’s been too long.” she said. “Whatever your report says, I would welcome the two of you visiting occasionally. It’s… a little isolating, saving the world every day.” Her voice quietened at the end, a hint of vulnerability in the Archmage.

Astragosa glanced at Malithern. “I think we could do that,” she said carefully.

“Sure,” Malithern confirmed. “I’ve learnt how to Summon Mana Pancakes since last time.”

Jaina made an undignified scoffing noise. “Of course you have.”

Astragosa turned back to Jaina. “I think I can accommodate your wishes. I will have to let them know what you’ve been doing, I think. Investigating the attack was my charge, and… it seems to be well in hand.”

Jaina sighed in relief. “Thank you, Astragosa,” she said.

“Besides, you have informed the Blue Dragonflight of this location, since I know about it.”

“Not by my choice, but your point stands,” Jaina conceded, waving her teacup at the dragon.

The next day found Astragosa and Malithern making the trek back down the mountain trail.

“Thank you, Malithern,” Astragosa found herself saying.

“Hmm?” he asked. “Oh, for the information. Well, it worked out in the end, right?”

“It did.” She favoured him with a smile. “It will probably take a week or so to make my reports and get everything squared away from this.”

“Oh,” said Malithern, frowning. “Will you… come back? And see me, after?”

She looked at him, puzzled for a moment, before realisation dawned. “Of course, you idiot. I still have to teach you the Arcane Conduit magic I promised.

“Oh,” repeated Malithern. “I’d forgotten about that.” He seemed to have expected a different answer.

“Also,” she added with a wicked grin, “I want us to bang each other senseless.”

“Oh!” he replied a third time, though clearly much more pleased this time. “I’d like that.”

Reaching towards him, Astragosa took his hand in hers, and they trekked down the mountain.

[rukiexramen]

meanwhile in Dalaran hall

mama Modera don’t want uncle Aethas swearing in front of her child

Original! ( X )

[tevruden]

It’s Always Sunny in Mardum Part 4 of ??

Archmage Modera is not impressed 

[mousterian-writes]

Modera!

Sexuality Headcanon: straight

Gender Headcanon: lady

A ship I have with said character: I feel like I have a lot of ships for this character, which is only noteable because she is sort of a background player in the setting. Kel'Thuzad is the main one- its messy and complicated, but thats what makes it fun. Aethas is another, their relationship was borne out of the conflict with the scourge & the work they did on the bubble. Not destined to last once the conflicts are over

A NOTP I have with said character: Khadgar. I sort of got a flirty impression between them in WoD & it also meets my 'proximity' requierment for a ship to have a basis. But I just don't really love them together.

A BROTP I have with said character: Ansirem is for sure her homie for lyfe in canon lore. She went to booty bay to help rescue his daughter. In staff envy it would have to be Brann though

A random headcanon: i think she is probably good at tennis (also I think they have tennis on azeroth)

General Opinion over said character: Like Kel'Thuzad, Modera is an extremly powerful character. Not only does she has the might of an archmage, but she is also the longest serving member of the council of six. Presumably, she has all the wealth and influence that accompanies that. These are some of the facts i keep in mind when I write her. Hopefully she comes off as an interesting and fleshed out character, even if some of the details are fudged (explorers league stuff for example)

[sigurdjarlson]

I have a very important criticism of the WoW movie

Khadgar didn’t make ONE pun.

Like give me a light-hearted scene where he makes a pun bc he wants to make his new buddies laugh and every single person in the scene just does the pun induced laugh-groan.

Lothar: absolutely horrible, never speak again

Khadgar: :3

[maltacus]

The Cruel Ranger, Chapter 9

Sylvanas and Jaina debate linguistics and encounter a grieving ranger lieutenant they need to relieve of duty. One hailing from Eversong Forest whose name begins with the same letter visible on Sylvanas' box of healing salve.

"Do you know how many times Master Antonidas has sent me to fetch some peripheral and presumably ”forgotten” item from somewhere up or down the whole tower – always for some reason on the opposite floor where we would happen to be? It is just a paltry and feeble excuse for forcing apprentices to exercise – you have no idea what that white beard of his lets him get away with! ”Forgetfulness” and ”old age”, yeah right…”

”That thing you said before, about Archmage Modera. You said she was…in a nutshell?”

”No, the description was Modera in a nutshell. Because she and Ranger Captain Areiel would have been so much alike.”

”Right. Does…that make the archmage a nut? If the thing that is very much her is in a nutshell?”

[justwarcraftstuff]

And here’s a picture of my mage dying, with my bodyguard just watching me. Thanks, Archmage Modera.

[lothirielswan]

“Pastry Crimes” [20]

Join the journey on AO3!

Quest Objective: Save the mages (I’m talking to you, Thedas).

My feet squeaked on the tile as I came to a stop. The world felt hazy around me, like I was trapped in a dream--or a most terrible nightmare.

He knows.

My boots let out another shriek as I spun on my heel. Grand Magister Rommath’s face was mostly unreadable, but his stare was as watchful as stars in the night sky.

“How…” My voice was far more scratchy than normal. “how did you know?”

The Grand Magister seemed a lot taller than he did before. Intimidating. Threatening. My wild imagination twisted reality and I suddenly felt like I was standing before my own Vampyr, draped in blood-soaked robes, barring his sharp fangs. I wanted to run, and when I realized why I couldn't, my legs trembled.

I was terrified.

My family was filled with social pariahs, but I had kept one part of that lineage secret. It was one less thing I had to worry about on a new planet. Now the flat of the blade called vulnerability slid across my skin with a cool caress. I’m the daughter of the so-called monster and the faraway coward. I am the spawn of the outcasts of Outland. And it has come back to bite me in the ass.

“I had my suspicions...the Black Prince confirmed them.” Rommath said.

The daughter of a traitor was betrayed...how ironic. I didn't have to believe Rommath’s words, but I knew the truth had a habit of stinging. It was searing in my chest now.

I couldn't decide between fidgeting with my fingers or fixing every strand of hair on my head. I settled for crossing my arms across my torso, steeling myself for how bleak my life was about to become. “Are you going to kill me, then?”

“No.”

“Are you going to arrest me?”

“I should.” Rommath mimicked my actions as his bare arms folded across his chest.

I loathed the new position that Wrath had put me in. Rommath knew my secret, which meant he had leverage. He had power over me. Wrathion had placed me on his chessboard, and now I was stuck taking his punishment for the game.

A banging started in my head. Only when Jaina spoke did I realize it was her footsteps on the stairs as she fled down them. Her blue skirts fanned around her like choppy waves.

Blue.

Kalec.

My inhale was deep and painful as I looked up at Jaina. She had no idea of my lineage. I preferred to keep it that way, but Kalec came first.

“What are you doing? We need to move!” Jaina’s voice was back to it’s grim determination, young yet aged, and she grabbed my arm as she passed.

I glanced back at Rommath one last time. What would he do next? Inform Sylvanas, and lead her to the peak of anger towards me? Set me up to an impossible task, bound to his will?

I had no clue. And the unknown clawed at my insides like a caged beast as Jaina blinked away from the Violet Citadel.

We suddenly appeared before the thick double doors of Violet Hold. Two guards stood at attention, adorned with troubled expressions as Jaina approached.

“Questions will be answered later. Double the patrols of the city.” Jaina shouted orders like a veteran general and strode with the grace of the tides. The two guards raced down the coral ramparts. Jaina and I stopped before the crippled metal doors.

“Prisoners will spread across Dalaran. I informed council members Ansirem, Karlain, and Vargoth. We will rescue Kalec, and join them in the fight on the streets. We keep this as covert as we can.”

At least one of us has it together. Jaina really does deserve a vacation. After this, maybe Kalec can send Jaina to some island getaway where she can smell a bunch of books--and I’ll send her a danish. Oh, food. I miss the comfort of food right now--dammit, stomach, not now! Kalec and my future are on the line!

Jaina pointed her staff at the entrance and the doors shuddered. The battered doorway was forced open by an incredibly unhappy host, coming to throw out her rude guests.

My eyes adjusted to the darkness quicker than Jaina’s. Embers emitted a weak lavender glow in braizers. My sight felt strained. There was a thickness in the air when I breathed in. I had become accustomed to the air saturated with magic as I stayed in Dalaran, but this was different. It was like trying to breathe underwater as something foreign filled my lungs.

My hands immediately went to my goggles, securing them on my face to mask the glow of my eyes. The shadows welcomed me with open arms, and I greeted it with both knives in my grasp.

I glanced back at Jaina. The glow of her staff was the brightest object in the room; she was a lighthouse, searching the ebony seas for Kalec.

“I smell fel.”

Lord Malgath--I remember him. It's sick and sad that I do.

I sensed something else in the dark with me. I stayed away from the walls and empty cells; being cornered in my profession was a death sentence. I stumbled on something as I backed up into the middle of the room.

“This behavior will not be tolerated.” Jaina’s tone was stern, like an adult addressing a child. “You will return to your cell or face the wrath of the Kirin Tor.”

I did a costly move and glanced down at my feet. Once again, my vision was deceived, like a veil suppressing my view. Inside my leather gloves, my fingers ached from how tightly I held my daggers.

“Ha! The Kirin Tor is nothing to us--beware the might of the Legion!” An orcish voice howled.

Jaina’s eyes blazed with an icy blue light. “Beware of me!”

In one swift motion too perfect for mortals, Jaina pointed her staff at the empty space beside her. The air caught fire and red flames roared.

Lord Malgath’s form was released from the shadows, crying out in pain. I wanted to extract my own hatred on the Legion, but I was onto something. I jammed one of my fists in my pockets and threw a flare at the ground.

Light popped into place like fireworks and the ground was illuminated. Kalec’s dragon form towered over me, drenched in some dark mist.

Stars! I can't get rid of that junk…

“Jaina!” I juggled sharp objects in my hand and blasted my pistol at the fel orc. The archmage looked over at me, the source.

I gestured with my gun at Kalec. “Switch places with me!”

“We’re in battle, Eona! You could use a more formal term--”

“Can you teach me proper grammar and word choice later?” I said and raced back towards the entrance. My words were wispy against the wind and my knives whistled as I gained speed. Jaina ducked as I leapt over the stairs and planted my foot in Malgath’s abdomen.

Jaina went off to undo the warlock’s bonds. I was alone, my mind distracted with thoughts of Rommath and Kael’thas and impending doom.

I wanted to gag as Malgath panted from my blow. His breath carried the heavy stench of the Legion; brimstone and sourness and decay. It made me feel younger and smaller, summoning memories of days long ago when I visited the toxic lands of Shadowmoon Valley.

I was supposed to be fast and fatal. I was supposed to be a tornado, unleashing the ferocious fury of nature in quick, twisting blows. But I was none of those things; I was just a scared kid running around in circles.

My footing slipped and I crashed down the stairs. The sharp edges of the stone cut into my side, promising bruises and slightly cracked ribs. The pain was nothing as my skull knocked against the tile floor. Foreshadowing resonated to intensify the agonizing throb.

“And another so-called hero falls to the Legion,” The orc was cloaked in shadow, but I could imagine the satisfied smirk on his face from his tone.

My fingers hastened back to the depths of my pockets and shook as I tossed a handful of little paper balls packed with ammunition at Malgath’s looming silhouette.

As my to-be murderer was stunned by the popping lights and stinging pain, I yanked my boomstick out of it's holder. I winced as the weapon went off. The sound of Malgath’s corpse hitting the ground followed.

“Jaina,” I called out from my upside-down position, staring up at the inky-black ceiling that threatened to reign over my whole world. “I’ve fallen...and I can't get up.”

Kalec’s half-human, half-elven face hovered over mine. The long tendrils of his hair eerily reminded me of Malgath’s magic. The longer I stared, the more he started to sway...he multiplied into three Kalecs, each of them bearing a look of weariness and worry.

“Before you get on to me about my carelessness and pastry crimes, I have to tell you...what do I have to tell you?” I asked, my eyebrows scrunched together as my thoughts scattered like a pile of dead leaves.

Six Jainas appeared with her braid swaying like part of an old clock. It was a dizzying, hypnotizing motion that made my head spin.

“Are you alright, Eona?” The Jainas asked. Despite the many voices talking, they sounded faint.

“You know…” I held up a finger as I pondered what I wanted to say. “if Khadgar was turned undead by Sylvanas...I think he would be a lot like Beetlejuice. I see it now.”

“...Damn, I broke her. Sylvanas is going to kill me now,” Each Jaina said and pursed their lips. But now all of the copies were fading, and the endless night was taking over.

“Wait...isn't that...isn’t that my line?”

Before I could catch her response, darkness took over.

~Anduin Wrynn, Violet Citadel~

Aunt Jaina desperately needs a vacation. It takes me a while to recall the last time she smiled, or laughed, or a time when her goblet was filled with water instead of a...stronger substitute.

“You look troubled, Your Majesty. You’ve looked troubled for quite some time.”

A larger figure caught up to me in the carpeted halls of the guest suite. The scent of crushed leaves and fresh dirt crossed my nostrils.

Father?

I buried the thought as soon as it came. I didn't have the time nor the strength to dwell on it. The true figure striding beside me was the night elf leader; Malfurion Stormrage. His form was truly unique; from the antlers that rose high above his head to the feathers that billowed down his arms. Malfurion was the embodiment of nature.

I straightened my back and offered him a polite nod. “Thank you for your concern, Archdruid. I learned the look from Lady Proudmoore.”

Malfurion’s lips smiled beneath his owl-shaped nose. I was allowed to utter such remarks in his company; we spared together many times. Playing Hearthstone, of course.

“I’d rather you acquire that than Greymane’s stubbornness,” Malfurion’s voice lowered as we passed closed doors along the way. The halls were lit with faint candles and furnished with violet silk. The pearlish texture of the walls was far more refined than the halls of Stormwind Keep. Dalaran held a faint resemblance to my home, but there was a strange feeling to it; the exotic energies and the endless knowledge. Aunt Jaina was lucky to spend time in such a bizarre place.

Aunt Jaina spoke of some accident that occured, and I was to tend to the victims. Malfurion was given the same orders, and we reported to the Purple Parlor together. When I activated the portal to the tower, a tingling sensation raced across my skin. The magic of mages was thrilling, but I preferred the warmth and peace that radiated in my core when I used the Light.

My gaze flit across the seating area to the three limp bodies. Archmage Khadgar, Archmage Modera, Archmage Aethas...they’re the most powerful mages in Dalaran! What in Azeroth’s name happened here?

Malfurion and I exchanged a look before I walked over to Khadgar. He appeared older from the aging spell, but in this moment, he truly seemed weak and feeble. His skin was pale and his chest rose with uneven breaths.

“Our archmages seemed to have a run in with a Vampyr,” Malfurion gestured with his claws beneath Khadgar’s neck. Two small entry wounds swelled at the base of his throat.

“How did this happen?” I asked. My brows furrowed together as I looked up at the green-haired elf.

“It’s Dalaran, King Anduin. Mages are known for their dangerous practices--you’re questioning the lot that juggles fire with their bare hands.” There was a hint of distaste in Malfurion’s voice when he spoke of them. I chose not to address it.

“So how do we tend to them?” I said.

“Hmm...perhaps you could burn the venom out with the light, and I will remedy the rest?” Malfurion offered. When I nodded, he took a step back, “I’ll restrain the other two. Be careful with that one.”

I kneeled down next to the archmage and pressed my fingers over the two small gashes. I jumped when Khadgar’s eyes flew open.

“You smell…” He sucked in a heavy breath like the air was wine. I didn't budge. I murmured a prayer and a refreshing wave of light flew to my fingers.

I liked to think that I knew Khadgar very well. We exchanged many letters and met secretly during the recent Legion invasion. He was one of the few that did not detest my belief in peace, and did not require me to have the same intimidating presence of Father.

“Anduin…?” Khadgar rasped. His heavily dilated eyes focused on me. “What...where is...where is Eona?”

My face felt hot at the sound of her name. My skin tingled like I was calling upon the Light. I looked down and shook my head. “I don't know, Khadgar.”

Another thought came to me. I glanced back at Malfurion. He was too busy directing the potted plants of the room to restrain the archmages. Khadgar may not remember me asking, with the loss of blood and all. I’ll be lucky if he understands a word I'm saying.

“Eona and Ranger-General Halduron seem close,” I said carefully. “Are they…?”

“No, thank the Light. The whole ‘sexy cheetah’ nickname concerns me,” Khadgar groaned and turned over. I rose to my feet to keep my hands on top of his wound, whispering another prayer. Some color returned to Khadgar’s skin when the light faded in my palms. “But she’s chosen worse.”

I froze. “Chosen worse…?”

Khadgar nodded into one of the pale blue pillows. His voice was muffled as he said, “There was this goblin on Draenor that reeked of sarcasm--but I’ll never get over her first boyfriend. Who names their child Om? Must’ve been a troll thing, or a food craze. He died, found an Alliance banner on his dead body one day.”

My eyes widened. Well then...irony at its finest.

I thought back to my history. Have I been with anyone else, in the romantic sense…? I was always trying to convince diplomats of peace, and studying the Light. It was hard to incorporate any other personal affair with everyone always leaning over my shoulder--and Genn shoving suitors at me. Every person I met through nobles and diplomatic gatherings was so proper and precise. I think I have enough of that in my life, Eona is different. I feel like I’m allowed to be human around her--I’m allowed to be myself.

“But there was one…” Khadgar tapped the edge of the pillow. “Yes, this one fellow in Pandaria that she dated. Eona really liked him--she wouldn't shut up about him.”

My face grew hot again as he continued. “--Then Alexstrasza threw a bunch of suitors her way. Those did not end well.”

“Anduin? The cleansing only works if you summon the Light,” Malfurion’s voice shook me from my daze.

“Right--! Sorry,” The rest of the time I cared for Khadgar was spent in physical silence, but my mind was filled with ramblings. When I first met Eona, she never showed me any hostility. Yes, Garrosh was chasing both of us around with a giant stick, but she never mentioned the troll that died because of my people.

I finished my work with Khadgar and removed the venom from the rest. It was a tense job, but I completed it unscathed. The portal to the Purple Parlor shimmered as newcomers arrived.

Jaina had become a pillar, supporting the sagging Kalecgos that leaned on her and carrying a limp form in her arms.

I stood as soon as I recognized her. Rosy-pink skin and copper locks like the birth of the day. Freckles like the lingering stars of the dawn. Eona’s smile was like the early-rising sun, but it did not shine in this moment.

“You really need to lay off the pastries,” Jaina cast a glare down at Eona’s unmoving form, then her eyes sought mine. “Don't tell Sylvanas.”