Ah, Kalecgos. As I recall, the 'brave in the three armies, trash in combat' assessment I made earlier wasn't far off. This rising star of the Blue Dragonflight, despite his impressive dragon form, was remarkably inept in actual combat. The anecdote about a dwarf with a musket felling him from the sky, much to that dwarf's sudden fame, still amuses me.
However, what truly grated on my nerves was how this outwardly impressive but inwardly weak blue dragon managed to capture the affections of so many remarkable women. There was his infatuation with Anveena Teague, the embodiment of the Sunwell's essence, which ultimately led to Anveena's self-sacrifice to purify the Sunwell during the Sunwell Plateau battle. Then there was Madrigosa, who tragically fell to a pit lord, corrupted into Felmyst, in her desperate attempt to rescue the hapless Kalecgos. Even after Malygos's demise, Tarecgosa, his own fiancée, went to extraordinary lengths to clear his path to the Blue Dragon King's seat, sacrificing her own future to empower him as the new Guardian of Magic, her essence bound to a staff.
I watched all this unfold with a distinct lack of enthusiasm in my previous life. You have a devoted fiancée in Tarecgosa, yet you pursue a sentient wellspring of arcane energy, leading to heartbreak and sacrifice. So many blue dragon lives were tragically lost because of his ineptitude, and then, as if to add insult to injury, he turns around and starts a relationship with Jaina Proudmoore! The sheer audacity!
That, in part, is why I intervened in the Blue Dragonflight's affairs during the War of the Ancients in this timeline. Beyond simply wanting to save them from further decimation, there were… personal grievances.
Consider the alternatives: Sartharion, a veteran of the War of the Ancients even as a whelp. His merits include nurturing the new generation of blue dragons within the Blue Dragonshrine, serving as the trusted right hand of the wise Senegos. In terms of raw power, he is a proper ten-thousand-year-old dragon, a demigod in his own right, easily ranking among the top three of the Blue Dragonflight! What, I ask you, could Kalecgos possibly offer to compete with Sartharion for the Dragon King's seat? My investment in the Blue Dragonflight was substantial – 50% ownership. With Sartharion on the throne, the entire Blue Dragonflight would effectively be under my influence.
(Bro forgot he turned Neltharion into a blue dragon, Ancagalon is now crying in a corner)
While Kalecgos and his entourage were preoccupied, Malygos, in his escalating madness, directed his confidants to siphon all the arcane energy of Azeroth towards the Nexus. Across the world, spellcasters instantly felt the disruption in the magic net. Fireballs that once blazed with the intensity of a washbasin dwindled to a mere third of their former size as the magical energies thinned. A two-thirds reduction in DPS? The mages' pride was surely wounded!
An uproar erupted among Azeroth's spellcasters as they frantically sought the source of this magical anomaly. Soon, an announcement emanated from Dalaran. The high elves of Quel'Thalas, the nightborne of Suramar, and the dwarf and gnome spellcasters of Khaz Modan, upon receiving the alarming news, utilized temporary coordinates established by Dalaran to teleport to the floating city.
Malygos's actions inadvertently achieved what no alliance could: the magical races of Azeroth converged upon Dalaran, united in their concern and plotting against the Blue Dragonflight. Upon arrival, they were astonished by the sheer abundance of arcane energy within the floating city. The high elf and nightborne mages, beings intimately familiar with potent magic, swore that its richness was second only to the former Suramar and the Sunwell Plateau. This solidified Dalaran's position as the true magical capital of Azeroth.
Just as these assembled spellcasters awaited Archmage Ansirem, the speaker of the Kirin Tor, to initiate an expedition against Coldarra, even more shocking news arrived: the blue dragons had attacked the Ruby Dragonshrine and the Emerald Dragonshrine in Dragonblight! This act of aggression convinced everyone that Malygos had truly succumbed to madness.
As the Marshal of the Alliance and the individual responsible for their Northrend operations, Galen received an urgent summons from the red dragonflight to Wyrmrest Temple, the heart of Dragonblight and the sanctuary of the guardian dragons.
Galen mounted Onyxia, leaving the icy plains of the Borean Tundra for Dragonblight, a land shrouded in ice and snow, the final resting place for many dragons. Across the vast, snow-covered expanse, the skeletal remains of colossal dragons lay exposed. The dragonflights maintained patrols over this desolate wilderness, preventing desecration of their fallen kin. However, Galen was certain that the Lich King, with his strategic acumen, had already set his sights on these ancient bones, likely amassing a hidden army of bone dragons. But no matter how many frost dragons he could raise, they would never outnumber my gryphon legions.
As we flew, the cold intensified, but my demigod physiology rendered it a mere inconvenience. Aragorn, astride a golden gryphon, followed Onyxia at a respectful distance. Soon, a Titan-style tower pierced the snowy horizon. Circular in design, it resembled structures I recalled from my past life, but this one soared at least a thousand meters into the sky.
A red dragon approached. It was Valastrasz, offspring of Alexstrasza and Tyranastrasz, a young dragon once manipulated by Nefarian. However, my earlier intervention had thwarted Nefarian's schemes, rescuing Valastrasz. I remembered him vividly, not only for his dramatic pronouncements in Blackwing Lair – "Your death makes my failure even heavier!" – but also for his fierce determination in battle. Later, his father, Tyranastrasz, fearing for his talented son's safety, had not only brought him to Silvermoon City to become my follower but had also equipped him with numerous life-saving artifacts.
"Lord Commander, the mother has been awaiting your arrival. Please, follow me!" Valastrasz, now in his human form, gestured towards the towering structure.
Galen nodded, signaling Onyxia to follow the small red dragon. Onyxia gazed at Wyrmrest Temple in the distance, her expression complex. She and her brother had once resided in the Obsidian Dragonshrine, not far from this very temple. With the Black Dragon King's fall, their flight had been ostracized from the five-color dragonflights, and she had not set foot in this sacred place for ten millennia.
"Master… the red dragons inside… they won't attack me, will they?" Onyxia's whispered concern made me pause. I reached out and patted the golden scales on the back of her neck, reassuring her. "What are you afraid of? Look at the color of your scales – this is the sacred Order Gold. Who would dare call you a creature of chaos? Besides, you are my dragon now. Anyone who dares to harm you goes against me. When the time comes, we will send millions to avenge you!"
"Giggle! Thank you, Master!" A small, almost hen-like laugh escaped Onyxia's dragon form. Her golden wings beat powerfully, the sudden acceleration pressing me back against her neck. Aragorn urged his golden gryphon to its full speed to keep pace.
Onyxia landed gracefully on the platform atop Wyrmrest Temple. Beside Valastrasz, who remained in his human guise, stood three other figures: Tyranastrasz, also in human form, Krasus in his familiar high elf appearance, and, most conspicuously, the Red Dragonqueen, Alexstrasza. Her crimson armor, trimmed with gold, revealed generous expanses of alabaster skin and slender thighs. Combined with her striking face and formidable figure, even the high-raised dragon horns atop her head didn't entirely dissuade my high elf-influenced aesthetic sensibilities