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Varian pores over the documents on his desk and reviews them for what seems like the hundredth time. Movements within the earth, tunnels he’s felt when testing the area, support for what he’s planning…it’s all there in front of him. He glances at the letter from the High Tinker and frowns. He doesn’t have permission from him for this plan, and Prince Erazmin’s letter aligns with the High Tinker’s. It’s a disappointment, to be sure, but it may be better that he does this alone.
He reviews the map beneath the smaller missives and doesn’t hear the door open until his papa stands beside him and picks up the letters. Varian stands up straight, watching the older dragon’s expression turn from curiosity, to confusion, to worry. Wrathion fixes his son with a look and taps the map.
“If you do this, V, you will start a war.” He warns, not shifting his gaze.
“No, Papa, I will finish one.” He gently takes the letter from Wrathion’s hand and sets it down on top of the others. “You know what it’s like to not have a home. I’m privileged enough to have never known what that feels like…so it’s only right that I try to get theirs back.”
Wrathion frowns. “Are you planning on doing this alone?”
”Yes. I don’t want to involve anyone else, not without the High Tinker’s blessing. If he’d agreed, I’d requisition the Dark Irons for this. But…I can succeed alone.” He says with a moment’s hesitation.
“Four years ago, I would have insisted otherwise.”
“Four years ago, Auntie Alex hadn’t fixed my heart. I wouldn’t have survived even the smallest amount of radiation in those tunnels. Now…now I can. Besides, you know no one else knows how to cleanse the earth like I can.”
“Varian, my darling, I can’t give my support for this.” The older dragon sighs. “But I know you well enough that I can’t stop you. At least take Andagos with you?”
“No.” His heart aches with that one word. He longs to have his husband and mate by his side while he does this. “I won’t involve anyone else. It has to be me, and I have to act alone. If it makes you feel better, I’ll have him find an excuse to be in Ironforge when I go.”
Wrathion looks at the map again, keen eyes analyzing the markings on it. “Walk me through your plan.”
-
Varian shifts in a graceful movement, landing in full armor on the peaks overlooking Dun Morogh. His glaive steams in the cold, snowflakes melting before they come close to the metal. He spends a long moment of contemplation there, expression stoic in the cold winter’s evening. The young dragon closes his eyes and kneels in the snow, sweeping his weapon in front of him to clear the stones. A hand settles on the granite and he breathes deeply.
”Azeroth, grant me your boon. Your humble servant requests your aid.” Almost instantly, a surge of power flows through the rock and into his veins, bolstering him. “Thank you, kind lady. I shall repay the debt in due course.”
He stands again and bows his head, feeling the rocks envelop him from below. It should be painful…would be painful to anyone without the power to mold earth. He moves through the mountain like a stone sinking in water, then is released to fall through the great cavern that is the first chamber of Gnomeregan. He shifts, wings snapping out to catch him as he falls. He lands at the bottom of the Hall of Gears and braces himself.
Varian channels his energy, searching for the origins of the trogg tunnels. There’s a chasm deep within the earth, far below the extent of the gnome city, and this seems to be the origin. It takes but a moment to flood it with magma from Azeroth’s depths, filling the chasm and destroying anything living within. The tunnels leading from there fill with magma as well, sending living troggs into Gnomeregan as they rush to escape the deadly flow.
Not many make it out.
Varian’s eyes open again and he waits, the energy contained in himself a beacon to anything seeking the cause of the devastation. He doesn’t wait long, the first waves of startled and furious beings finding him quickly. Long sweeps of his spiked tail make quick work of most of his enemies. Massive bursts of flame reduce the remaining combatants to dust.
Step one of his plan now complete, he shifts to his smaller form and begins the significantly harder work of finding the source of the radiation and purifying it. He feels terrible about the death he leaves in his wake throughout the twisting halls of the city, irradiated gnomes and bots alike falling to his glaive. He’ll build a proper memorial once his job is done.
An odd sensation tickles the back of his mind once he reaches the source of the trouble, the Tinker’s Court. The dragon turns and fixes the strange being blocking the doorway with a curious look.
“You…shouldn’t…have…come.” The leper gnome breathes out, mechanical suit twitching with the gnome’s movements. “Mekkatorque…why…?”
”Gelbin did not send me.” Varian states calmly. The gnome reeks of illness and old wounds left to rot. He’s likely still alive by sheer will alone. “You must be Sicco Thermaplugg.”
The gnome huffs a short laugh. “Guilty…as…charged.”
”Then you brought this upon yourself.” Varian states, stepping aside as Thermaplugg launches some weapon or another at him. It explodes harmlessly away from the dragon. “May the Shadowlands greet you gently.”
He leaps forward, glaive sweeping as he gets within range of the leper gnome. Thermaplugg’s head flies off to the side and Varian sighs deeply. At least it was a quick death, likely the end of a great deal of agony. He turns and jumps off of the mechanized armor, staggering as he lands.
Varian shakes his head, confused. There’s no reason he should be off-balance, as he’s not even fatigued yet. Unless…he turns and looks at where the explosion went off and snarls. Green clouds of radioactive material fill the court, expediting his plans a hundred-fold.
The dragon shifts again, claws digging into the metal beneath them. Azeroth, give me strength…
He’s got minutes, maybe less, to fix the radiation, or he’ll be just another casualty of the Gnomeregan disaster. But, even now, the sleeping Titan gives her power to him freely. He feels the magic anchor into place and grits his teeth as it rips through him, using him as a mere conduit for the purification process. His consciousness fades rapidly, and he sends a message through the bond with his mate as he passes out.
Andagos, a little help, if you please.
-
High Tinker Gelbin Mekkatorque paces anxiously outside of the chambers within Blackrock Mountain, rubbing his hands together as he waits. Erazmin has long since stopped trying to calm him, sitting on a crate off to the side. He knows that the news of Gnomeregan had hit his husband hard, but he’s not sure what was worse: the news that Sicco had been alive and subsequently slain, or the news that the young dragon responsible for the cleansing of the entire city had been found unconscious near burst radiation tanks.
The mechagnome calculates there’s a forty-three percent chance of recovery for the prince. The odds had been higher earlier in the week, before the prince’s comatose state had persisted. With the Life-Binder present, the chances didn’t seem to be getting any lower, at least.
He perks up when he hears the door unlock and open, revealing an exhausted Anduin and even more exhausted Wrathion. Erazmin hops off the crate and joins Gelbin at their sides for any updates.
”How is he?” Gelbin asks, voice pitched higher with emotion. “If there’s anything our people can help with, please do not hesitate to--”
”Gelbin, please.” Anduin says softly, smiling at the High Tinker. “Varian’s going to be fine. Alexstrasza just finished healing him…again. It seems that there was only minor radiation damage, but the amount of power he used to cleanse the city and put a stop to the trogg invasion drained him completely. He’s just sleeping it off. I couldn’t tell because…well, I’m not a dragon.”
Both gnome and mechagnome breathe sighs of relief. Erazmin speaks up before Gelbin can. “Regardless, we’re indebted to your family. If possible, we would like to stay until Prince Varian is awake. We’d appreciate being able to thank him in person.”
Anduin looks over at Wrathion, who looks about ready to pass out for a week himself. The Aspect nods and smiles at the gnomes. His voice is low, but steady. “We’d be happy to host you for as long as you like. Varian’s going to have a million questions for you, no doubt. If you’ll please excuse us, we’ll go make arrangements for your prolonged stay.” He bows to the gnomes and walks away with Anduin.
Erazmin looks at his husband, whose green eyes are filled with tears. He quickly hugs him tight, lending his support. “It’s okay, Gelbin, it’s okay…”
Gelbin nods against Erazmin’s shoulder. “I think it might be.”