The Multiverse War, Part One

Chapter 10

AN: Aduin Wrynn, current king of Stormwind and of the Alliance. His father, Varian Wrynn, fell to the Burning Legion during the invasion of the Broken Isles. As you may tell, I despise Anduin with my very essence of being. But he's the king so whatever, I guess. The sword he wields is called Shalamayne and it was forged for his father Varian. Varian had been cursed, split into to pieces, each representing a different part of his personality. They both looked identical to him, but exhibited oppoosite traits; hotheadedness and logic; rage and calm, etc. Night elves forged two blades, one for each of his separated selves. Once his separated selves found each other and once more merged, so too did the blade into one mighty sword. But when Varian died, Anduin inherited the sword like a little bitch instead of getting his own.

Anduin shifted his weight to his left leg, Shalamayne rested at his side against the large table of plans. Kaldrun had finished his tale, and Anduin was processing the information.

"The Old Gods..." muttered Anduin, "They were what caused the corruption in Pandaria."

"Correct," Kaldrun nodded, "And that was simply the remnant power of a long-deceased Old God, Y'Shaarj. Our issue is the remaining, living Old Ones."

Anduin stared hard at the maps and charts before him, "And this is a significant threat to Azeroth..."

Kaldrun cleared his throat impatiently, "Yes."

"As you know, demon hunter," said Anduin, with a twinge of bitterness, "Even your own people are stretched thin on the Broken Isles. The forces of the Alliance have little to give."

"Please, my lord," Kaldrun began to plead, "This is an entire planet that is under siege. They have their own forces to fight back. We only need a small army, at least, to slow the progress of the Old One's conquest while we try to close the rift and force him back."

"How many lives would be lost?"

"Less than if you would refuse to supply aid."

Anduin nodded slowly, thoughtfully.

"With all due respect, my lord," Redrumei began, but was cut off quickly.

"You do not," interrupted Anduin, "have place to speak, thief. The only reason I have not have you arrested is because you are under protection of Kaldrun."

The king directed his gaze to Erin, and inquired as to her identity.

"My name is Erin," she said, somewhat hesitantly, "I'm from Earth. The, uh... planet in peril."

Anduin's eyes widened in realization, and he all but whispered, "I see..."

Anduin turned to the doorway and called for his advisers. A dusty-red-haired man in heavy gold and blue leather armor with plate accents entered the room. He was older, maybe in his fifties, with a leathery wrinkled face. His eyes were hard and his hair and facial hair were shaggy. An official looking, clean shaven man followed him in. As did an old noble with silver hair, a large greatsword in a scabbard on his back. He looked vaguely like Bellendore, with a wolfish expression but otherwise similar facial features. Their hair was nearly identical.

"Fill them in," commanded Anduin to Kaldrun, who did so.

The big, wolfish old man, whose accent was distinctly the same as Bellendore, "So these Old Gods... they are a large threat?"

"Very", replied Kaldrun dryly.

"My liege," the wolfish noble spoke to Anduin, "I have armies to spare. The Shadowfang are no longer as focused in Silverpine, fighting the Horde. I can send them, perhaps."

"Perhaps", concurred Anduin, "And of course, we always have troops in reserve. I just hate to allocate these lives."

"It is necessary, my lord," said the dusty-haired man, "Seeing that the Burning Legion doesn't require any spying, the SI:7 has a good amount of resources to allocate."