Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kalec knew he had made a mistake when he landed face first in the ruins of Ahn'qiraj. He mentally reminded himself to stop smoking Draenic Fireweed with Nozdormu. Smoking made life as an ex-aspect easier, but it also led to Nozdormu pulling drugged up bullshit. For example, sending Kalecgos to spend a day with “The Top 10 best and worst characters of Warcraft” according to something called “The Champion known as Ememoe.” What was Warcraft anyways? And why “characters?” Nozdormu knew something.

Kalec had rightly assumed he would start with the worst “character.” But it wasn’t in the way he thought. When he landed in Ahn’qiraj, he expected Cho’gall or even C’thun. But not even in his worst nightmares would he expect to be in his current situation. Standing in front of him was a creature so horrible, so disgusting, that even the mighty blue dragon had to hold back literal gallons of vomit.

“Well, golly! Hey there friend, it looks like you’re in a pickle.” It was Med’an. Thankfully, Med’an had disappeared where Kalec was five minutes ago. But it seems Nozdormu had sent him back in time to when that horrible creature still walked Azeroth.

“NO! FUCK THIS, NOZDORMU CAN’T MAKE ME DO THIS!” Kalec turned into his dragon form and tried to fly away, but he found that Med’an had somehow followed him into the sky.

“Boy, what about Nozdormu? Isn’t he the Bronze Aspect?”

“NOTHING! GET AWAY FROM ME!” Kalec tried to use his ice breath on Med’an, but it was deflected by his tempered Metzenite plot armor. The ice hit Kalec square in the chest and froze him in a block of ice that crashed into the dunes of Silithus. “Well, at least I can die now…” thought Kalec.

But death was not to come on this black day. Med’an landed and used his godly powers of Palashamagic to melt the ice. Kalec tried to fly away, but he was weakened. He assumed his human form in an effort to slip away, but Med’an grabbed his hand.

“Now, now. Why so eager to run away?”

“Because… you’re so… damn.... Stupid.”

“Why, I’m the Guardian! You’ve gotta have some brains for that.”

“Yeah… but you know who didn’t have brains? Whoever thought a half human, quarter orc, quarter draenei was a good idea.”

Med’an was visibly hurt. “Well that’s not very nice!”

Kalec sort of felt guilty after that. After all, Med’an did save his life. “Ugh. Sorry… I guess. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” Kalec immediately regretted asking.

“OH BOY!” Med’an suddenly grabbed Kalec by the ankle and zoomed into the air, where he flew around with Kalec, still held by the ankle, all the way to Thousand Needles. Those gallons of vomit being held in from earlier were poured all over the unsuspecting Silithids below.

Kalec knew he had made a mistake when they landed at some Gnomish ice cream shop and Med’an thought they served glue and crayon flavored ice cream. After arguing for about an hour with the shopkeep, Med’an just got some frozen glue stuck in a cone.

But that’s when Kalec saw his chance. He whispered to the shopkeep, “Hey, tell him that it’s not glue and you need to take it back.”

The gnome scowled and whispered back. “No! We’ve been arguing for hours! Unless you want to buy him some good ol’ bleach ice cream, I’m done!”

Kalec grinned. “You read my mind.”

The gnome suddenly leaped over his stand and kicked the cone out of Medaniel’s hand.

Med’an suddenly turned around, flames in one hand and a ball of elemental molten crayon wax forming in the other. “WHY WOULD YOU TAKE MY GLUE?”

The gnome stepped back. “I-it wasn’t real glue! It w-was an accident!”

Med’an roared his orc-draenei-human roar and blasted the unfortunate gnome with the crayon wax and flames, killing him. Med’an turned to Kalec. “YOU BETTER GET ME SOME DAMN GOOD GLUE ICE CREAM… OR YOU’RE NEXT.”

Kalec gulped. He went in the back. He’d need to make the bleach look like glue. So he poured all of the glue in the vicinity into the cone, then poured a gallon of bleach all over the cone, making it soggy. To fix this, he let out a puff of ice breath, which conveniently made the bleach look like frozen glue and also re-hardened to cone.

“One bl- I mean glue ice cream coming up!”

Med’an snatched the cone out of Kalec’s hand at threw the entire thing into his vile maw. Right after that, Med’an started choking on the frozen glue and bleach. He tried to use fire to melt it, but his throat was soon covered in flames. As if that wasn’t enough, the bleach melted and Med’an lost control of his powers. In a burst of liquid crayon wax, shitty DeviantArt OCs, and tarnished Metzenite, Med’an exploded and was no more.

Kalec breathed a sigh of relief. But right after that, Kalec remembered why he was there in the first place. As if on cue, a Bronze Drake picked Kalec up and threw him into a time portal to his next destination: the second worst character.

“DAMN IT, NOZDORMU!”

Chapter Text

Kalec expected to land head first into the ground. He did not. He was standing under a bridge in Bilgewater Harbor, the same place he stood to give new adventurers a quest to talk to a murloc all the way back when Deathwing was still alive- and before he was a washed up former aspect. Unfortunately, he was in the present day. Did that mean Nozdormu just gave up?

But Kalec knew Nozdormu had not given up and had sent him here for a reason. And it certainly wasn’t to hang out with some goblin class trainer or random seal. So Kalec thought of all the reasons he could be there. Azuregos? Maybe, but he knew Azuregos was in the Nexus after some priest and mage freed it from the Ethereum. “I should probably pay him a visit…” he thought out loud. But then he realized he was standing in the middle of the road and he heard a loud honking noise.

When he looked up, he realized who Nozdormu wanted him to see. Clad in a crusty top hat and tacky vest was none other than Trade Prince Gallywix. Apparently he was the second worst “character” to this odd Champion named Ememoe.

“Ay, you! Some dude with an hourglass said he’d give me twenty dollas if I let you hang with me for a day! Get in the car so I can get paid!”

Holding his nose to block Gallywix’s terrible breath, Kalec got in the car. There was no escaping until Nozdormu decided it was time to force Kalec somewhere else. But when life gives you lemons…

“So, sir… where are we going?”

“Some bar here in the harbor. I just go there whenever I ain’t in the palace. After all, I paid off the owner to give me a seat whenever I go there.”

Well, having a drink seemed appealing to Kalec after the Med’an fiasco. He relaxed in the comfortable car seat as Gallywix hit the acceleration pedal.

After a quick drive, Kalec and Gallywix got to the bar and walked in. It was pretty full, but the barkeep pushed a patron out of his seat to make room for Gallywix.

“So, what can I get you today?”

“Ay. I’ve got a guest with me, make some room for him.”

“No can do, you only paid for your own seating.”

“He’s a dragon.”

As if on cue, Kalecgos partially transformed his hand, showing blue scales and gave off some magic.

“Welp, okay! Looks like we had a misunderstanding!”

The barkeep pushed another patron off his seat. Kalec sat down. The barkeep wiped some sweat off his brow and asked his question again. “What can I get you two?”

Gallywix leaned back. “Just the usual. What do you want, Mr. Blue Aspect?”

“Well, actually I’m not an aspect anymore, but I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

The barkeep mixed some drinks and gave them to Gallywix and Kalec.

Kalec took a sip. Then he took a large swallow. Then he ordered sixty more. Even Gallywix was shocked at how much the dragon could drink. But they both kept drinking more.

“What’s in this?” Asked Kalecgos.

“Well, you ever heard of Med’an?”

Kalecgos nodded.

“After he died we found a bunch of weird Kool-Aid in his room. We stuck some vodka and lobster juice in it and made this. As much as I hated the little shit, he had good taste in drinks.”

Kalecgos didn’t have the heart to mention that the Kool-Aid was the liquefied remains of Med’an which he ordered one of his drake lieutenants to hide. But, hey. Drinking the remains of Med’an sure was a treat. Especially when it was Kalec who killed him.

Two hours later, both of them were wasted on alcoholic Med’an juice.

“Sho, who’s gonna pay the bill?” asked a drunk Kalec. Some snowflakes fell out of his mouth, as he could not control his ice breath in his drunken state.

“Not me, I’m gettin paid. I ain’t losin money on you.”

“No hecking way you cheapshkate. You pay.”

“Shays the one who- hic - got SHIXTYSHEVEN DRINKSH.”

“FUCK YOU! YOUR MOTHER WAS A HAMSHTER AND YOUR FATHER SMELLED OF ELDERBERRIES!”

Kalec was so drunk that he didn’t even notice he turned into his true form. The bar’s roof and walls were destroyed due to the massive dragon that could not fit. The panicked patrons and barkeep ran away, but Gallywix stood his ground.
“PAY. THE. BILL.”

“NO!”

Neither of them noticed there was no bill to pay and no bar that the money would go to. Kalec flapped his wings and hovered above Gallywix. “PAY THE BILL OR I SWEAR ON THE GRAVE OF MALYGOS I WILL DESTROY YOU.”

“THE BILL WAS SEVENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS YOU HECK, I AIN’T PAYING SHIT!”

“FINE THEN! BE THAT WAY!”

Kalecgos swooped into the air and prepared to fire his ice breath at Gallywix, who got into a fighting stance. But as soon as he was ready, he felt a massive force ram into his left side and sent him crashing into the waters of the harbor as Gallywix laughed out loud.

Suddenly sober by some strange magic, Kalegos woke up on the Azsharan sea floor horrified. The force that rammed into him was none other than Nozdormu himself.

“You’re still paying that bill.” With that, Nozdormu flew off with the money Kalecgos was somehow hiding, even in his dragon form.

After a few seconds, a loud pop was heard and Kalecgos vanished, off to spend a day with yet another mystery person.

Chapter Text

At first, Kalec thought Nozdormu had let him go free again when he saw Dalaran around him. But then he remembered landing in Azshara and realized that would not be true. He had to meet the third worst character. But who could it be in such an exciting magical city? Surely not the great Antonidas or his girlfriend Jaina… well, they were on a break. And he heard that she was a Dreadlord, so he was a bit scared to reach out again.

He quickly realized it would not be Jaina, as he used a spell to see what was under the city. It was Crystalsong Forest, so Dalaran was still in Northrend. That meant there were only three people of significance in the city: Rhonin, Aethas Sunreaver, and Archmage Vargoth. Wait, was there someone else?

Kalecgos soon snapped back to reality when he felt a fist hit him straight in the stomach.

“TAKE THAT, SERVANT OF MALYGOS!”

It was Rhonin. Was he the third worst character? With such rude treatment, it would not surprise him.

“What the hell? That’s racist, just because I’m blue you brutally assaulted me in the street?”

Rhonin suddenly looked embarrassed. “Oh… um… no? Well, who are you? I thought the Blues were enemies of my nation.”

Kalecgos pulled an ID card out of his pocket with his face in dragon form on it, attempting to smile. It looked more like he was going to eat the camera. “Kalecgos. Wyrmrest Accord. Believe it or not, some Blues actually understand that Malygos is batshit insane.”

Rhonin really looked embarrassed then. “Well, shit. I’m real sorry about that. Is there something I can do to make it up to you? I don’t want to sabotage relationships with Wyrmrest.”

Kalecgos thought for a second and was about to say “LET ME BANG YOUR WIFE!” However, he gave it some thought. Rhonin would probably kill him if he said that, Wyrmrest Accord membership be damned. But Kalecgos really wanted to get a nice look at Vereesa’s [Snapvine Watermelon]s. So he came up with a plan.
“You know what? No. I’m the one who made a mistake, showing up uninvited in a time of war. You should forgive me. Is there anything I can do for you? Maybe help someone in your family while you’re busy?

“Oh, sure! I need to address the citizens of Dalaran pretty soon and raise their eyes to the sky and observe, so can you help my wife go grocery shopping?”

Kalecgos tried to hide his excitement. “Okay!” he piped a bit too loudly. But Rhonin didn’t notice, as he was already walking away to address to citizens of Dalaran.

Soon enough, Kalecgos was escorting Vereesa out of the Violet Hold. But then it occurred to him that Nozdormu sent him here for a reason. And it was to spend time with the third worst character. He just left Rhonin and he hadn’t gone to the fourth worst yet. And suddenly, Kalecgos realized that he had made a huge mistake.

First of all, she was wearing a cape and Kalec couldn’t get a good look at her [Fire-Toasted Bun]s. Second of all, Kalec might not have been able to look at her ass, but she was an asshole.

“Ugh. Blood Elves. Disgusting.”

That was what Kalecgos heard every time they crossed blood elves. Considering they were in Dalaran, it was quite often. Kalecgos hated racism already- well, except against gnomes. Screw gnomes. But Kalecgos hated that Vereesa hated blood elves because, well, the only difference between her and blood elves was that she had blue eyes. And she ran away from Silvermoon to do the hanky panky with Rhonin. Also, Kalecgos spent a lot of time with the blood elves and helped to save the Sunwell.

Also, she kept talking about Rhonin. And Rhonin’s junk. And how good Rhonin was at doing the hanky panky. “Well,” thought Kalecgos, “I’m really glad I didn’t bang her.” But then he remembered he had to keep shopping with her until she was done. And when she stopped every time she saw blood elves to insult them, he knew he had to wait a long time before he could escape his misery.

“You know what I hate?” asked Vereesa.

Kalecgos buried his face in his hands. “Blood Elves.”

“Yep! That’s right! Blood elves, more like autism elves, am I right?”

Kalecgos did not dignify that with a response.

Eventually, they were on the last item on their list.

“Succulent sausages…” read Vereesa out loud. “Well, off to the sausage vendor! They better not be a blood elf.”

And right when Kalecgos was about to say “You can’t spell succulent without succ.” No matter how hot Kalecgos thought Vereesa was, her damn personality was such a turn-off to him.

They arrived at the vendor. Whatever race they were, it was not visible. They were wearing black robes and a strange mask covering their face. The sign on top of the cart read “Friendly Immolation’s Sausage Distribution”.

The vendor’s eyes narrowed through their mask.

“YOU.”

Kalecgos was surprised. “Who, me?”

“NO. THE ELF WOMAN.”

Vereesa looked angry. “What? I just want to buy some sausages.”

“WELL YOU DON’T GET ANY. I KNOW WHO YOU ARE, VEREESA. AND YOU….” The vendor inhaled. “ARE SO. DAMN. BLAND. AND ANNOYING!”

The vendor leaped over the cart and did a sick flip, revealing they were wearing black and white light-up heelys under their heavy dark robes. They grabbed Vereesa by the throat and started chanting.

“The Blackest Night falls from the skies, the darkness grows as all light dies. We crave your hearts and your demise, by my black hand, the dead shall rise!”

Suddenly, an army of spooky skeletons burst from the cobblestone streets, sending bits and pieces of rock flying everywhere. Anyone not named Vereesa, Kalecgos, or “Friendly Immolation”, as Kalecgos had decided to call the vendor, was gone.

Kalecgos slowly backed away as skeletons surrounded Vereesa. She tried to shoot them with her bow, but every shot missed. And THIS was the ranger general of the Silver Covenant? What a fraud.

Soon enough, the skeletons killed Vereesa. Kalecgos really didn’t care, but he thought he was next. The vendor looked him square in the eyes as people returned to the area, also indifferent to Vereesa’s death. “YOU. DRAGON. I HAVE NO GRIPE WITH YOU. YOU ARE FREE TO LEAVE.”

Kalecgos turned into a dragon and flew as fast as his wings could carry him. As soon as he had escaped one trial, he could feel Nozdormu’s time portal dragging him to the next.

Chapter Text

Kalec knew he wasn’t free, even if he was back in the present. He knew he was in the present because he was in the arcane-blasted ruins of Theramore and could see a Legion spaceship blasting Tanaris in the distance. He knew he wasn’t free because he knew there was only one body left in Theramore. And it was dead. Still buried in Theramore was the body of Admiral Daelin Proudmoore of Kul Tiras. The father of Jaina, who he was still on a break with.

Kalec sighed. Just because he was the washed up former Aspect of Magic didn’t mean he knew necromancy. Nozdormu expected too much from him. How was he going to spend the day with a corpse?

As if on cue, Kalec saw a splash in the surf near where he was standing. He ran to the water and plunged his hand in to investigate. From the water, he retrieved a small flute with a note attached that somehow resisted the water. It read: “Use this if you need a convenient Necromancer and your name is Kalecgos.”

Well, both of those criteria fit him. On most occasions, he would never want to be near a necromancer, but if he ever wanted to be free from Nozdormu’s drug-induced game he would have to make an exception.

Kalecgos pressed his lips to the flute and blew air into it, careful not to use his ice breath and break it.

“OCEAN MAN, TAKE ME BY THE HAND, LEAD ME TO THE LAND THAT YOU UNDERSTAND. OCEAN MAN, THE VOYAGE TO THE CORNER OF A GLOBE IS A REAL TRIP. OCEAN MAN, THE CRUST OF A TAN MAN IMBIBED BY THE SAND. SOAKING UP THE THIRST OF THE LAND.”

Kalecgos dropped the flute immediately, startled by the incredibly loud singing that erupted from it. He knew it wasn’t him. The flute must have been enchanted to play that song. But why?

The question was quickly answered as a skeletal hand burst out of the ocean and sections of the surf turned to ice and melted again at random. A staff tipped with a Linkin Park album rose from the unstable waters and following it, came an entire Lich. The lich floated up from the waves and onto the battered coast.

“Someone call for a Necromancer?”

“Um… yeah. But who are you?”

“I am the great Amnennar the Edgebringer!”

“Who?”

“The only necromancer who’s worth shit on this Ner’zhul-forsaken continent. And one of the few real Liches left in the world. I used to be the coldbringer, but after Nozdormu rescued me from my Red Dragonflight wardens, he demanded I start bringing edge rather than cold. But hey, freedom’s nice.”

“Of course it was him. Was he stoned?”

“Yep. Anyways, what did you need? He made that flute to call me for you exactly one time, so I figure this is important.”

“Well… I need to raise a Daelin Proudmoore from the dead.”

Amnnenar may not have had any skin, but Kalec could see the fear in his hollow sockets. Somehow. With magic.

“You sure about that. Isn’t his daughter your girlfriend?”

“We’re on a break. And for the record, this is one hundred percent Nozdormu’s fault.”

“Well… okay. I guess I’ll do it. Just take me to the body and I’ll work on waking that guy from his dirtnap.”

Kalec escorted Amnennar to the grave, which was miraculously undamaged by the Mana Bomb dropped by Garradolf Hitlerscream all those years ago. Using his ice breath, he turned the dirt on top of the coffin into a chunk of ice that he easily levitated out of the ground.

Amnennar opened the coffin and retrieved the spooky skeletal remains of Daelin Proudmoore.

“Well… the ritual must begin.”

“Wait, ritual? I thought you just cast a spell and it’s done.”

“I’m not raising a ghoul, I’m actually bringing a guy back to life. Let me show you how a professional does it.” Amnennar spun around and his robes changed from purple to black. His staff was replaced by a microphone. The lich “cleared his throat”, which wasn’t really possible since he had no lungs to speak of.

“What-what’s going on?”

Amnennar gave no response. The ritual began with a terrifying howl into the microphone. “HOW CAN YOU SEE INTO MY EYES LIKE OPEN DOORS, LEADING YOU DOWN INTO MY CORE WHERE I’VE BEEN SO NUMB? WITHOUT A SOUL MY SPIRIT’S SLEEPING SOMEWHERE COLD UNTIL YOU FIND IT THERE AND LEAD IT BACK… HOME.”

At this point, the lich was slamming a spoon into his bony wrists as he continued his deafening howls. “WAKE ME UP INSIDE! I CAN’T WAKE UP! WAKE ME UP INSI-”

The lich could not finish as an arcane missile pierced the back of his skull. Kalecgos ran over to the lich without even seeing who fired the missile. “AMNENNAR! Are you okay?” Kalec didn’t know the lich for long, but he knew that Amnennar’s necromancy was his only way to hanging out with Daelin Proudmoore… and his only way to freedom.

“No… I am returning to my phylactery.”

“Are you sure? What do you see?”

“All around me… familiar faces. Worn out places. Worn out faces. Yeah… I’m sure.”

Kalec watched the light fade from the lich’s eye sockets as the body dissipated into blue ribbons of arcane magic that shot into the air to return to Amnennar’s phylactery. When Kalec turned around around, he was seething. Puffs of frost came from his nostrils and the air around him grew cold. He looked up to the lich’s murderer and saw…

“JAINA?!”

“Kalec, we decide to take a break for a week and you’re already trying to RAISE MY FATHER FROM THE DEAD?!”

“I swear it isn’t what it looks like! And you just murdered Amnennar! How could you?

“He was singing really badly and TRYING TO MAKE MY DAD A DAMN GHOUL!”

“Actually, the singing was to MAKE SURE HE BECAME A PROPER UNDEAD INSTEAD OF A GHOUL!”

Jaina’s face was eerily calm. “Very well. You know magic to well to fall for these tricks. I suppose you’ve earned the right to know the real reason I couldn’t let this happen.”

When Kalec looked back to the skeletal remains of the admiral, he noticed things he hadn’t before. Namely, the clear as day remains of broken horns and tattered demonic wings. And hooves. And a set of distinctive black armor that was only worn by one creature.

Kalec closed his eyes. “A Dreadlord.” He turned around and looked at Jaina again. Where she was standing, there was only a Dreadlord.

“Come on, don’t tell me you didn’t realize it sooner.”

“How long?”

“What?”

“HOW. LONG? HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN IMPERSONATING MY GIRLFRIEND!”

The Dreadlord gave a maniacal cackle. “You still don’t realize. There was no impersonation required. I, Jaina Proudmoore, always was and always will be a Dreadlord. In fact, the entire royal family of Kul Tiras is comprised of Dreadlords!”

“How has nobody noticed?”

“Oh, we just pretended to be humans. It was never so hard. I’ve been silently manipulating events from the beginning. Arthas becoming evil? I just abandoned him when he needed me. And hell, I even killed my own father when I needed to advance the Legion’s plan.”

As if Kalecgos wasn’t horrified enough, he suddenly reached the worst realization of them all. “Wait… if this is who you really are, then… have you been a man this whole time?”

The Dreadlord gave a horrifying needle-toothed grin. “Yes. I, Jaina Proudmoore, am a Dreadlord. Not a Dread-Lady.”

“Oh… oh Titans no. B-but we… we did the… you know…”

“Yes. We did.”

“Am… am I gay?”

The Dreadlord gave another evil grin and did not mention that Dreadlords were technically genderless. Better to watch the dragon squirm. Jaina flew off on demonic wings, carrying the remains of Daelin.

Kalec was left on the sandy beach, knees sunken into the sand. He buried his face in his hands and cried, realizing that the one who he had been holding hands with all this time was a man.

“To hold hands with a man… there is no greater act of gayness.”

With those words, Kalec collapsed into the sand of the beach. He did not notice as the bronze drake picked him up and threw him through yet another portal.

Chapter Text

Kalec slowly opened his eyes to find himself back in Dalaran. A part of him wished his ordeal had been a dream, but he knew it wasn’t true. He, Kalecgos the washed up former Spellweaver, had been dating and holding hands with a Dreadlord since the destruction of Theramore. And there was nothing he could do to change it.

Kalec staggered up and took a walk to the edge of the city. He looked down. Crystalsong Forest was still there, so he was back in Northrend. But a quick look around showed him the broken cobblestones and inert remains of raised skeletons showed him that time had passed since his last visit. He had no clue who he had to spend time with, so he decided to spend time with his new best friend: the bottle.

The Legerdemain Lounge had not become a Coffeehouse yet, as it had become in the Dalaran of the present. As of the time of the war against the Scourge, it was still a tavern and would still sell him all the alcohol he needed to wash away his memories of dating a Dreadlord.

Kalec looked around the bar he was sitting at. Most of the people were with friends, drinking together as a celebration rather than a way to drown their sorrows. There were a few upset, drunk mages as well. But one person stood out to Kalec: Rhonin. Even in his mildly inebriated state, Kalec still remembered why he was in this mess in the first place: Nozdormu. And Nozdormu was not going to let Kalec go free until he had been with all twenty people.

Since Rhonin was stupid enough to publically assault Kalecgos and marry Vereesa, it was no difficult task to deduce that Rhonin was the fifth worst “character” in the world, especially when he was one of the only people of note in Dalaran. Kalec got up and walked over to Rhonin.

“So, what are you doin’ here?” asked Kalec.

“Drinking.”

“Why? What’s the matter?” Kalec already knew the answer, but Rhonin couldn’t know that. He downed his glass.

“My wife died. You?”

“I just… lost my girlfriend. Single now.” Of course, he left out the part that his “girlfriend” was a Dreadlord.

“Aw. That sucks. Want some more drinks?”

For once, Kalec could agree with Rhonin of all people. “Yep.”

Two hours later, Kalec was in a situation that seemed rather familiar. Drunk in a bar with someone Nozdormu forced him to hang out with after two hours of drinking. Of course, being as smashed as he was, Kalec did not notice this and did not remember the mistakes he made last time with Gallywix at Bilgewater Harbor.

Unlike last time, nobody was concerned with the bill. Rhonin was many stupid things, but a cheapskate was not one of them. Also, he was the leader of Dalaran so he could probably just not pay if he really felt like keeping his money, since this was his city.

“So why did you marry that bitch Vereesa anyways?”

“Hey, don’t make fun of my troph- I mean wife! And I did it ‘cuz she wanted my magic wand, if you know what I mean… and pretty much everyone else hated me. And her only other option was some Wildhammer dwarf who kept calling her his lady. Might as well have put on his damn fedora at any time.”

“Ah. Yeah. Well she was racist. And an asshole.”

“AY! Shtop that, I’ll burst ya if ya don’t stop that.”

“Burst me? What’s that mean? You gay or something?”

Rhonin shot a hand out and a chair in the lounge exploded into wooden splinters. “I mean I’m gonna make you blow up like a crazy goblin.”

“So you’re racist, too? Check THIS out!” Kalecgos blew as hard as he could and a jet of ice burst from his mouth, then broke apart. The shards reformed themselves into the shape of a skeleton. “Remind you of anything?”

“YOU SICK FRICK! SKELETONS KILLED MY WIFE!” Rhonin lept up and threw sixteen fireballs at Kalec. In turn, Kalec dodged them with ease and ordered the skeleton to charge into Rhonin. It burst into sharp bits, which cut up Rhonin easier than content in Draenor.

The bar was soon evacuated. Kalec turned into a dragon. Soon the bar was was gone. Kalec and Rhonin were locked in a battle of fire and ice. Neither could make much of a difference, but the alcohol in Kalec’s system changed that. The ice began to fuse with the alcohol, making it extra weak to the fire… well, weaker than ice already is to heat.

Kalec’s ice breath quickly melted and Kalec had a mouth full of watered down beer and fire magic. The water boiled in his mouth, causing immense pain.

“THRALL’S BALLS! WHAT THE HELL, MAN?”

“YOU MADE FUN OF MY- hic- WIFE!”

Rhonin hit Kalec with an arcane missile, forcing him into his human form to dodge. Kalec shot frost bolts out of his hands, which broke apart and cut up Rhonin even more.

“It’s on, bitch.”

The battle went on for hours until Dalaran was nothing but floating boulders. The entire populace had decided to leave, as the battle between a drunk dragon and drunk archmage was incredibly dangerous. Finally, Kalec had cornered Rhonin on a single boulder. Kalec turned back into his dragon form and ate Rhonin, but before he could let out a roar of drunken victory, he heard a deafening pop and disappeared.

Suddenly, Kalec woke up to a slap across the face. It was Nozdormu. Now fully sober, Kalec sat straight up and grabbed Nozdormu by the throat.

“What the hell are you doing to me? Did you see what happened?”

Nozdormu slapped Kalec again. “Yeah, I saw. I had to go back in time and extract you. Rhonin doesn’t die until the destruction of Theramore. Or, more accurately, until you started holding hands with a Dreadlord. Damn it, you’re making me work way too much.”

Kalec pushed Nozdormu off him. “How is this my fault? It was YOUR idea!”

“Ugh. Well, I didn’t tell you to get drunk again. Anyways, the Champion known as Ememoe told me that I have to reduce your sentence. It’s only ten people now. Bottom and top five. You finished the bottom.”

“So I can actually hang out with cool people now?”

“Yep.”

Before Kalec could say anything, Nozdormu snapped his fingers and Kalec could feel himself falling again. Falling to the sixth person to hang out with. He was halfway to freedom.

Chapter Text

“Arthas, we have to do something.” said a deep orcish voice.

“What do you propose we do?” came a younger human voice that seemed oddly familiar.

“Um… I don’t know!”

Kalec’s eyes opened at last. He found himself face to face with two faces he never expected to wake up to: Arthas and Ner’zhul, the two Lich Kings that had attempted to conquer the world.

“I see you’re awake now,” said Arthas.

“Hey there,” said Ner’zhul in an oddly nervous way for an elder shaman, former Warchief of the Horde, and the original Lich King.

“There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know,” continued Arthas. “Give me your hand.”

Not knowing what else to do, Kalec took Arthas’s gauntleted hand. Oddly enough, he was wearing his paladin armor and Ner’zhul was still in his shamanic garb. Kalec also noticed the orc looked much younger.

“Where am I?” asked a weary Kalec.

Ner’zhul and Arthas shared a worried look before Ner’zhul decided to speak first.

“Well, to put it simply… you’re in the Helm of Domination. Right in that gem between the eyes, to be exact.”

“What? How?”

Arthas spoke next. “Well, when we died, we got stuck up here. I don’t get how you got up here, but I’m guessing you got somebody pretty powerful to be upset with you.”

Kalec immediately knew it was Nozdormu. But Nozdormu wasn’t angry- he just wanted Kalec to spend time with Arthas. “But why does it look like this?” Kalec waved his hand, indicating the landscape. It was a surprisingly idyllic meadow of gentle hills, grass of a perfect length and color, and beautiful flowers.

Arthas shrugged. “Well, it was really just Ner’zhul and I who created this place. It was empty before, so our minds just kind of created this place. Beats looking an empty abyss all day.”

“So what do you even do all day?”

Arthas shrugged again. “Well, there’s no endless undead army to command, so we just kind of tend to the field, even though it’s all our imaginations. I wanted to bring Invincible here, but he didn’t get re-killed. Some damn adventurer stole him and rode off on him.”

Ner’zhul kicked at the ground. “Same here. I wish I could bring Rulkan here so we could go back to our good old days, but she’s in Outland. And I’m pretty sure she hates me now.”

Kalec sighed. “Love is hard.” He contemplated telling Arthas and Ner’zhul about the Jaina story, but decided against it.

“You know what else is hard?” asked Arthas rhetorically. “Being stuck here. I just realized that since you got in, there has to be a way out. And I’m sure you don’t want to be stuck here forever, no matter how nice it is.”

“That would definitely be correct.”

Ner’zhul snapped his fingers and three couches, a coffee table, and thirty six-packs of Shadowmoon Grape Soda materialized from thin air. “We aren’t coming up with any ideas if we don’t have somewhere to sit.”

Everyone took a seat and a can of soda. Kalecgos took a sip. “So, where do we even begin?”

“Well, how did you get in?” Arthas replied.

“Um… it’s a pretty weird story, but okay. So Nozdormu and I were smoking Fireweed together and he wanted to make me hang out with a bunch of random people. Eventually he sent me here to hang out with you guys.”

Arthas snapped his fingers and summoned a whiteboard and marker. He furiously scribbled down what Kalec said on it. “So Nozdormu willed you here, yes?”

“Um… I guess so.”

“Then that means we have to will ourselves out!” Arthas rubbed his hands together and took a deep breath before screaming into the sky. “I WANT TO GET OUT OF THIS PLACE!”

Nothing happened. Ner’zhul got into a meditative position, stayed in it for about ten minutes, and then quietly said “I wish to leave this land of my imagination.” Nothing happened, so Ner’zhul got up and kicked the table over before screaming. “DAMN IT! WHY CAN’T WE DO THIS?!”

Kalec leaned back in his chair in frustration. He snapped his fingers and found a blunt of Draenic Fireweed pinched between his teeth. He took a long puff of the already smoking blunt and felt himself calm down.

Suddenly, Arthas and Ner’zhul turned to look at him. Ner’zhul clapped his hands together. “That’s it! People always get better ideas while they’re high!” Arthas and Ner’zhul snapped their fingers and they both suddenly had matching blunts.

Three hours later, the trio were completely stoned on Fireweed. They had all told their entire life stories, learned every song from High School Musical 2, and became experts on the governmental structure of the Vile Fin murloc tribe of Tirisfal Glades. But they hadn’t gotten any closer to their goal of escape.

That’s when Kalec suddenly said something he never would have if he wasn’t high. “Hey… Arthas.”

“What, K-man?”

“Did you know that your ex-girl Jaina… well, my ex-girl too now… was, like, a Dreadlord?”

“No way, man. You trippin?”

“Well, we all trippin. But yeah.”

Arthas suddenly looked angry. “No way, man. She couldn’t have been a Dreadlord. That would mean she was a dude.”

Kalec suddenly started crying for no apparent reason. “Well, like, I tried to raise her dead from the dead with our boy Amnennar, and then she showed up and… poof! She was a Dreadlord!”

“But that means there was a real Jaina, right? You just got stuck with fake Jaina.”

Kalec buried his face in the grass. “Nope. She was always a Dreadlord. So was her dad. And the entire royal family of Kul Tiras. Saw her dad’s bones, they were totes demon bones.”

Arthas appeared slightly less high. “Wait… you killed that thing though, right? As revenge.”

“I tried. Couldn’t do it, I just learned I had been holding hands with a dude for like, two years. Not easy.”

Suddenly, Arthas wasn’t high at all. All the smoke in the area disappeared and Arthas’s face was a red mask of fury.

“I WAS DATING DREADLORD?! I WASTED MY LIFE ON A FUCKING DEMON?! I DON’T CARE THAT YOU DIDN’T KILL IT! I’M KILLING THAT SON OF A BITCH MYSELF!” Arthas raised his fists to the air like Superman and bolted into the sky, creating a large hole and a sound like shattering glass. Arthas had broken out of the helm.

Ner’zhul was no longer high either. He looked at Kalec. “Holy shit! We can leave! Well, thanks for giving me the idea to get us all high.”

“Oh, it was no problem. What are you gonna do now?”

“I don’t know. Lots of things I never did in my life. I’m thinking of becoming the chef. I was already the Lich King, maybe I’ll be the Lunch King next!”

Kalec patted Ner’zhul on the back. “You know what, man? I never thought I’d be saying this to the man who blew up Draenor, but good luck, friend.”

Ner’zhul drew Kalec into a brotherly hug and gave him a firm pat. “And good luck to you, too… with whatever you’re doing.”

Ner’zhul leaped through the hole out of the gem. Kalec turned into a dragon and flew out next. When he was outside, he saw that he was atop the Frozen Throne. Only one other figure was there: Bolvar Fordragon.

“Hey, what are you doing here?! The Legion is invading Azeroth and you were hanging out in my head!”

Well, Kalec was in the present again. “Um… I don’t know. Where should I go to help?”

“I just sent my right hand man to Acherus… how about you go there too?”

“Well, better than staying here. Bye!”

Kalec flew off. Nozdormu wasn’t sending him anywhere. He was on the right track to finding the next person himself.

Chapter Text

Acherus was not a very pleasant place, especially since the Knights of the Ebon Blade decided to work for the Lich King again. Hell, some random guy named “Dickbuttsixtynine” had somehow become the Deathlord of the order and wielded two Frostmournes. There were also a bunch of other so-called “Deathlords” that had their own matching swords, as well as a few who had big red axes and green runeblades. Kalec didn’t know who the hell to speak to with so many fake Deathlords, so he figured he would look for a familiar face.

“Nazgrim?”

The orc Kalec was looking at turned around. It was, indeed, Nazgrim. Kalec had briefly met him at a mixer for the heroes of Northrend and he seemed like a nice enough guy. However, there was just one little problem: he had died in the siege of Orgrimmar.

“That would be me… wait, do I know you?”

The orc’s voice had a distinct echo that all death knights seemed to have, probably so they could sound cool and edgy. Well, that explained a lot. He must have been raised to fight against the Legion.

“We met at a mixer back in Northrend. I’m Kalec… you do remember me, right?”

Nazgrim thought for a second. “Oh, of course! Nice to see you again, what brings you all the way to this stinking place?”

Kalec waved the stench of decaying ghouls and the breath of the twelve year olds claiming to be Deathlords away from his nose. “Well, Bolvar told me this was a good place to fight the Legion. Figure I may as well be useful.”

“But aren’t you an Archmage of the Kirin Tor?”

“Ah, enough of that. So are we doing anything here?”

“Um… I think the Deathlord wants us to fight Gul’dan. Even though I’m the only Horseman he’s even bothered to raise.”

“Horseman?”

“Oh… that. The Deathlord and Bolvar think making a new Four Horsemen is a good idea.”

“Well that’s pretty stupid if you ask me. Why copy the Scourge when the Legion is the one who came up with them?”

“Eh, it’s pretty cool. After getting used to the lack of my heartbeat and need to breathe, I realized I’m pretty much immortal as long as I don’t let anybody chop me up. Also, I don’t even have to charge into battle now that I can just pull things to me!”

“Huh. So, want to get to fighting Gul’daniel?”

“Well, I have nothing better to do. Plus, you’re a dragon. That gives us an advantage.”

Kalec turned into his dragon form and let Nazgrim and his horse sit on his back as they flew to the Broken Shore, where Gul’dan was apparently located for a brief time. Trying to get to him in the Nighthold would not be possible until the seals of Metzenite broke off in 2017. He landed in front of the Tomb of Sargeras, which was still somehow open.

Kalec let Nazgrim and the horse down, then turned back into his half-elf form.

“So… are you ready? Gul’dan is known for his powerful plot armor spells, do you think we can pierce them?”

“He’s not expecting company. He won’t have them up.”

“I guess I’ll have to take your word.”

And with that, Kalec and Nazgrim entered the tomb. Most of it was collapsed from the combined damage of Gul’dan and Khadgar’s duel and Illidan’s spellwork, but there was still an open path that Gul’dan would have used to get in. After following the trail of felfire and cut content from Draenor, Kalec and Nazgrim finally reached a large gateway.

Kalec pushed the door once and it opened. He didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly was not what he saw. The large chamber was not home to any great portal, dark ritual, or demon lord. In fact, it was just full of bookshelves and a desk with an odd mechanical device. Seated at this desk on a comfortable office chair was none other than Gul’dan himself, hunched over the mechanical device.

However, this device was not even part of a fel reaver or anything of the sort. It appeared to be playing a game in which the point of view was from the player’s perspective as they shot down countless demons in what appeared to be a fanciful depiction of the Twisting Nether. And the shelves were not full of fel tomes, but of cartoonish figures of what appeared to be teenage girls… something called “Anime” seemed to come to mind. Kalec had never heard of it. There were also countless books on two young human men named Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold.

Nazgrim broke the silence. “GUL’DAN! YOUR REIGN OF TERROR IS OVER! SURRENDER AT ONCE AND I’LL MAKE YOUR DEATH QUICK.”

Gul’dan turned around, spinning his chair after pausing his game. “What the hell do you want? Who are you and what are you doing in my house?!”

“Your house? THIS IS THE TOMB OF SARGERAS, IN CASE YOU FORGOT.”

“Oh… yes. Do you know how much it cost me to buy this place?” Before anyone could respond, Gul’dan answered his own question and pulled back his hood. “EVERYTHING.”

Kalec scratched his head. “Isn’t that a pretty terrible price?”

“Eh, it’s cheaper than most houses on this Sargeras-forsaken world. But seriously, I’m trying to play DOOM!”

“What in the name of Alexstrasza’s see-through cape is DOOM?” asked Kalec.

“It’s a game. I’m trying to be like Eric-Senpai and Dylan-Chan.”

Nazgrim looked at Gul’dan, confused. “What language is that?”

“UGH. It’s Japanese, the greatest language in the great dark. I learned it from my anime watching.”

Nazgrim was even more confused. “What’s an-ee-may?”

Gul’dan got up. “DON’T YOU DARE BUTCHER THE MASTER TONGUE!”

Gul’dan picked his staff up and attempted to clobber Nazgrim with it, but Nazgrim brought his axe up and chopped the staff in half. After all, burning wood is a very fragile material and a terrible idea for a weapon.

“MY WEAPON! I GOT THAT WHEN I SHOT UP MY VILLAGE! YOU DAMN PLEB!” shrieked Gul’dan. He shot fel fire out of his hands and blasted Nazgrim, knocking him back. Gul’dan then began to focus a more powerful fel bolt, but Kalec then walked up to Gul’daniel’s odd gaming device and put his hand over what appeared to be a power button.

Gul’dan turned around. “NO!” His spell was interrupted, and that was enough. Kalec rushed to Gul’dan and pinned him against the wall.

“Did you know?”

“Know what?”

“DID YOU KNOW WHAT THE BURNING LEGION DID TO ME?!”

“I DON’T KNOW. THE BURNING LEGION DID A LOT OF THINGS TO A LOT OF PEOPLE.”

“Fine then. Let me reiterate. Are you familiar with a certain Nathrezim demon named Jaina Proudmoore?”

Hearing the name, Gul’dan let out a malicious cackle. Kalec put a hand on Gul’dan’s neck and began to squeeze. Gul’dan’s laugh turned to a hack and he coughed fel green blood into Kalec’s face.

“I know Jaina. And you held hands with Jaina for… two years, was it? And you’re not getting that time back. You’re alread-”

Gul’dan let out one last sharp exhale as his neck snapped. Nazgrim had gotten up in the corner and the death grip he had launched at Gul’dan was fading.

“What? He was talking too much.”

“Well, I suppose you’re right. And he was right, in a way. There’s nothing I can do about the Jaina business.”

“Jaina business?”

“I’d rather not talk about it. But I can’t undo it. However…” Kalec’s face went from a somber gaze to an elated grin. “WE JUST KILLED THE LORD OF THE SHADOW COUNCIL! THE ASSHOLE WHO WANTED TO BURN AZEROTH DOWN! WE’RE GONNA BE FAMOUS!”

Nazgrim and Kalec high-fived, then strapped Gul’daniel’s lifeless body to Nazgrim’s skeletal steed. After destroying all of the anime figures and burning all of the books about Dylan and Eric, Kalec and Nazgrim rode out of the tomb, victorious. And for once in his awful journey, Kalec felt pretty damn good about himself.

Chapter Text

Kalec and Nazgrim returned to Dalaran to great applause. After all, killing Gul’daniel was no small feat. Even if it took about five minutes of their time. After making their way through the crowd, they finally got to Khadgar, who was wearing a blue party hat and throwing darts at a picture of his former assistant, Cordana Felsong.

“Ah, Kalec! Oh, and Nazgrim too! I’m so glad to see you’ve saved us all! I’m very proud of both of you.”

Nazgrim took a knee. “Thank you. It is an honor to be of service to the leader of the Kirin Tor.”

“Okay, so… do we get anything?” asked Kalec. After all, he’d had a pretty shitty past few days. He figured killing Gul’dan would make something good happen.

“Ah! Well, we’re having a celebratory cook-off! You and Nazgrim can be my team!”

Kalec shrugged. “Sounds good. So how does this work?”

“Well, first we meet the other team. Then we go off to buy ingredients. Then we cook. And then we see who wins!”

“Okay. Let’s meet the other team then.”

As Kalec and his team landed on one of Dalaran’s many random pointless floating islands, Kalec had to wipe his eyes to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. On the other team was Arthas, Ner’zhul, and Amnennar the Edgebringer, who had attempted to help him raise Daelin Proudmoore before the Jaina incident.

“Glad you could make it, Kalec.” said Arthas.

“Watch your tone with me b- wait, how did you get here? Half the Scourge is locked up in the Violet Hold.”

“I’m human again. They just kind of let me and the crew in.”

“But what about Amnennar? He’s literally a lich.”

“Yeah, but I work for Nozdormu.”

“Oh… yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

“Wait, Ner’zhul! You literally stole the Eye of Dalaran once!”

“Well... I just told someone else to do it. So technically it wasn’t me. TECHNICALLY.”

Khadgar interrupted. “Well, we both know who the teams are now! So let us begin the first annual Kirin Tor Cookoff!”

Both teams ran off and somehow got off the floating island despite flying not being allowed in the Broken Isles. In a little bit, Kalec, Khadgar, and Nazgrim made it to a convenient marketplace in Dalaran.

“So, what’s on the list, Khadgar?”

“Hmmm… well, first we’ll need four thousand, nine hundred and eighty-six cucumbers.”

Nazgrim ripped the list out of Khadgar’s hands to check. “Wait, what the hell are we making?”

Khadgar took the list back and put it in his pocket. “We are making my signature Cool as a Cucumber Caesar Salad. So get me those cucumbers! Oh, and we’ll also need a Core of Lettuce, Core of Tomato, and Core of Onion. So get those! Too!”

Kalec was getting mildly irritated. “What does that even mean?!”

“Just get me lettuce, tomato, and onions! I just thought it sounded cool that way!”

After thirty minutes of shopping, Nazgrim and Kalec returned to Khadgar with the ingredients.

“Oh, and we need Blackhand’s severed arm.”

Kalec and Nazgrim both looked at each other in disbelief.

“Ha, just kidding! I just wanted to see your reactions. Come on, let’s get back to that island and make that salad!”

Arthas and his team had gotten to the island first, but appeared to be having some sort of argument.

“Glad you could bake it, Ner’zhul.”

“Watch your tone with me, boy. You may be my assistant but I’m still your superior as a chef.”

“As if I could forget. Listen, Ner’zhul, there’s something about the Plaguette you should know. Arthas looked at what appeared to be an odd green baguette. ” Oh no, it’s too late! This bread has been burned. It may look delicious now, but it’s only a matter of time before it turns unedible.”

“What?”

“This entire bread must be restarted.”

“How can you even say that? There has to be some other way.”

“Damn it, Ner’zhul! As your future chef, I order you to restart that bread!”

“You’re not my chef yet, boyardee! Nor would I obey that command if you were!”

Amnennar suddenly slapped Arthas and Ner’zhul across the face with his skeleton hands.

“Guys, the other team is here!”

Arthas and Ner’zhul stopped fighting and looked over at Kalec, Nazgrim, and Khadgar, who were already chopping vegetables and preparing a dressing.

Arthas and Ner’zhul immediately started on a new Plaguette while Amnennar was making a spread of lost souls and delicious despair, as per recommendation from a friend of Arthas named Falric.

Twenty minutes later, both dishes were done. Kalec and his team had made their “Cool as a Cucumber Caesar Salad,” while Arthas and his team had prepared a freshly baked Plaguette Roll with a spread of despair and lost souls, along with a healthy side of sliced pears, another recommendation of Falric.

The judge of taste was an elf named Guy Fireeye, who was wearing a jacket with a flame pattern, black leather pants, and odd black eyeglasses.

“So who’s gonna take me to Flavortown first?

“The home team will go first,” said Khadgar.

Kalec took the bowl of salad up to the elf, who immediately put his fork in the salad and started to eat. Kalec could’ve mistaken him for a murloc with how fast he ate.

“Hm. That’s a damn good salad. Cool as a cucumber!”

Khadgar smirked at the last remark. “Beat that, Arthas!”

Arthas smirked back “Maybe I will!” He put the sliced Plaguette on a plate with the spread and pears. Of course, Fireeye finished it very fast as well.

“This pear… so delicious. And that’s good bread… but I feel like you restarted it at some point.”

Arthas and Ner’zhul glared at each other.

“Well, it was a close one, but the home team wins!”

“YES!” yelled Kalec. He high-fived Nazgrim and Khadgar and they began throwing spare lettuce into the air like confetti. Arthas looked wistfully into the distance and let a few tears fall. Amnennar began slamming his bony wrists with a whisk. Ner’zhul sank his knees into the ground.

“BUT I WAS THE LUNCH KING!”

Kalec was crying tears of joy. He had forgotten that Nozdormu had let him stay in the present for a reason. And that reason was to spend time with Nazgrim and Khadgar. But he had finished his task.

And when things finally looked bright for Kalec, he disappeared in a puff of sand to be forced into the far past.

Chapter Text

Maybe Kalec wouldn’t have been as angry if the place he was dumped in was at least pretty. But nope, it was Deadwind Pass. Nothing but cold, rough, unwelcoming stone and trees more dead than his current will to live.

“DAMN IT, NOZDORMU! I HUNG OUT WITH ELEVEN PEOPLE, ISN’T THAT ENOUGH!?”

Nozdormu suddenly descended from the sky in his draconic form.

“Ner’zhul, Jaina, and Amnennar did not count.”

“WHAT THE SHIT?”

“You still got two left. First up is Aegwynn, then… well, I’ll let it be a surprise.”

“I’m done with your drug-induced surprises, you washed up prune! Let me go back! I WAS HAPPY THERE.”

“Hey, I’m sure you’ll be happy here. It’s Aegwynn, not Med’an.”

“I DON’T CARE! SHE’S OLD.”

“Dude, you’re like the same age as her.”

“But I’m a dragon you dingus!”

“Same here. But Aegwynn’s still 10/10, would smash.”

“What the hell, Nozdormu?”

Nozdormu was already gone. Kalecgos gave the emptiness where Nozdormu was the middle finger and turned around. There was no way he was going into Karazhan or wherever Aegwynn was. But it was not to be.

Kalec suddenly popped into a room in a tower. If it was Karazhan, it wasn’t the one he knew. It was too clean. But Aegwynn was there and apparently expecting him.

“Oh, you must be the babysitter for little Medivh!”

“Um… sure.”

Nozdormu’s voice echoed in Kalec’s head.

“NO YOU’RE NOT, GO WITH HER, THE REAL BABYSITTER IS-”

Kalec silenced Nozdormu.

Aegwynn spoke up again. “Okay, great. I’ve got a rep from the Blue Dragonflight outside, I have to go out for a meeting in Northrend with them. I’ll pay you when I get back tonight!”

Before Kalec could respond, Aegwynn had left, leaving Kalec with a baby Medivh.

“Well, guess I just have to take care of you for the day.”

Suddenly, Nozdormu’s voice appeared in Kalec’s head again.

“DON’T. JUST GET OUT, GO TO AEGWYNN AND HANG OUT WITH HER. THE REPRESENTATIVE IS SOME RANDOM BLUE DRAGONSPAWN.”

“Why? Why should I listen to you anymore?

“Because you’ll actually die if you don’t.

“Nozdormu, I’m done with your threats. I’m doing this then going back to the present. I’ll get into the Caverns of Time myself.”

Nozdormu was gone.

Kalec walked up to the crib that housed the baby Medivh. He was already wearing the raven-feather cloak and had already grown his distinctive beard. To be honest, Medivh was not a cute baby. No wonder he stayed in Karazhan all day as an adult.

“What was that you were just thinking?” came a deep, rumbling voice.

Kalec jumped back. Was the baby talking in his mind?

“Yes. It is.”

Another voice appeared: Nozdormu’s. “I told you to leave. Good luck with the Dark Titan.”

“The Dark Titan?” asked Kalec. “But that’s a baby!”

Nozdormu’s voice was gone from Kalec’s head once more.

“Don’t you remember?” said the baby Medivh. “I am Medivh. But I am also Sargeras. This infant mind cannot hold me back.”

“So what are you going to do to me?”

“Nothing. What will you do?”

“Um… I’m just gonna sit here until I can go back where I came from.”

“The future?”

“How did you know?”

“I’m Sargeras. I see all. But I also see my damn pacifier. Get that thing away from me.”

“Move it yourself. Aren’t YOU the titan here?”

“I’m also a fucking baby. Now move that thing, I hate it. Aegwynn is always sticking it down my throat. Baby Medivh seems to love it, but the only thing that will make me happy is the destruction of Azeroth.”

Kalec thought for a second.

“No.”

Suddenly, bursts of liquid fel fire came up from the floor. The horrible smell of Med’an and Rhonin’s souls came up as the shrieks of the damned filled Kalec’s ears. Plugging his ears, Kalec threw the pacifier out the window. The fire and souls were gone. Baby Medivh was grinning.

Nozdormu’s voice appeared again. “LEAVE. YOU WILL ACTUALLY DIE IF YOU BREAK THE FORMUlA.”

Kalec responded in his mind. “No. I’ve had enough of you, Nozdormu. I don’t have to hang out with everyone like you say. Look where it’s got me! Babysitting. Disgusting.”

“I swear to Aman’thul, I will let you do whatever the hell you want with Aegwynn. I’ll let you go right back to the present when you’re done.”

“No. She’s old. And you’re lying.”

“You know what, Kalec? Fine. See what happens. Really. I’m out.”

Suddenly, the mental conversation was broken. Nozdormu was really gone.

Baby Medivh/Sargeras spoke again. “So you’re stuck here. For now. Until mother dearest comes back.”

“Yep. And I’m going out for a drink.”

“We’re in Aegwynn’s secret tower in Suramar. There are no bars.”

“Really? Nothing?”

“This place has been abandoned since the Sundering. Nobody wants to sell anything.”

“Well then I’m leaving.”

“No you’re not.”

“I’m not taking shit from a baby. This isn’t Son of the Mask.”

“What’s Son of the Mask?”

Suddenly, time and space started to shake.

“SHIT! I DON’T KNOW!”

The spacetime ripple ceased. Ever since Lord Metzen had left the universe, the Metzenite keeping reality together had been much weaker. Lord Metzen was to be missed dearly.

Kalec took a deep breath. “Do you have a Television?”

“I’m the Dark Titan. My demons have brought me countless technologies from the Great Dark. Of course I do.”

“Let’s just sit you in front of a movie then, Aegwynn won’t care.”

“Oh, I know what movie!”

“What?”

“Let us watch… Med’an: The Comic: The Movie.”

After the movie was over, Kalec was hyperventilating and sweating. Never had he seen something so bad. He was frozen. Nothing was worth experiencing ever again. Life was meaningless. He had forgotten why he was even there.

And in the confusion, a certain baby had left the tower. Crawling was slow, but quiet enough to not snap Kalec out of his nihilistic trance. And with that, Sargeras had escaped confinement. And Kalec was too stunned to even notice.

Chapter Text

Kalec woke up feeling better than ever. Better than he had any right to feel, considering Azeroth had just been sliced in half with the universe’s bigger sword. The universe was probably going to be the same by the end of the century. But then again, why would Kalec need to care? He was dead, after all.

Of course, when Sargeras escaped the tower, Aegwynn was caught off guard. She died pretty soon after that, since Sargeras had absorbed the power of the Guardian. And when Nozdormu learned about that, he wasn’t happy. Kalec thought back to how that day ended.

“YOU WHAT?!” screamed an infuriated Nozdormu in full dragon form.

“Okay, I MAY have let baby Medivh escape. But he was just a baby, even if he did have Sargeras in him or whatever. How could he cause the Burning Legion to invade?”

“BECAUSE SARGERAS ESCAPED. AND HE DIDN’T EVEN NEED TO SUMMON THE ORCS FROM DRAENOR. WE ARE SO FUCKING OUTNUMBERED RIGHT NOW. THERE IS NO HORDE. NO ALLIANCE. NOBODY.”

“Fuck. What are we gonna do?”

“Kalec, there is no WE anymore. I know what I’ll do. I’m going to go back in time and fix all this shit, leaving this place as a splinter timeline. But you’re not leaving it.”

“Why not? I can just go to the Caverns of Time.”

“Because I’m going to kill you first.”

“Hey, no fair! This whole dare was your i-”

Kalec died at that point. Then he woke up again in the afterlife. Even compared to the dream world created by Arthas and Ner’zhul, the place was damn gorgeous. Kalec wondered who else would be there. Well… probably everyone, considering Azeroth had been blown up.

Kalec got up from his sleeping position and looked around. Nobody was there. Suddenly, the grass on the ground parted and a large trail appeared. With nothing better to do, Kalec followed it.

At the end of the path was the most wondrous city Kalec had ever seen. The buildings resembled the Exodar in a way… this was the home of the Naaru. The realm of the light. The place where heroes went when they died. Unless they were Vrykul, who got stuck in Lavabeard’s flying castle.

Kalec walked inside. The city was much louder, but there were a few faces Kalec knew. He saw the gnome that helped him to poison Med’an. A few goblins he saw around Bilgewater Harbor. A few mages that got killed in his ransacking of Dalaran. Some citizens of Theramore. One of the Skeletons used by the sausage vendor that murdered Vereesa. Some scourge minions. A knight of the Ebon Blade. One of the children forced to starve after the great cucumber shortage caused by Khadgar’s overuse of the vegetable. And, of course, pretty much everyone who died on Azeroth and didn’t suck.

But there was nobody he truly knew.

“Hey, Kalec!”

Well, that was about to change. Kalec turned around. It was Amnennar, who was still a Lich for some reason. And behind him were Arthas and Ner’zhul, who were both back in their primes. And somehow didn’t end up in hell despite both killing more people than either could count.

“Hey Amnennar. Why are you still a Lich?”

“The Naaru said I was too edgy to turn back into a human. But I guess I like this.”

Arthas spoke up next. “So, apparently there’s an orientation to go to. Wanna come with us? We can’t find anyone we know.”

“Wait, doesn’t Ner’zhul have a wife we should take?”

Ner’zhul averted his eyes. “She’s still mad at me. Apparently we’re on a break until she decides to give me another chance.”

“Oh… well, I guess we should just go to that orientation then. Sorry.”

“No, it’s alright. At least she isn’t cheating on me with some Naaru.”

The group made it to the building where the orientation was. It was a big crystal spire, but the height was fine. Stairs didn’t hurt in the afterlife.

“So, do you know who’s gonna be guiding us?” asked Kalec.

“No idea,” said Arthas. “Probably a true hero of the Light.”

Everyone found a seat and sat down. Then again, the amount of seats was perfect. They were in the afterlife, after all. Soon, the guide came out. When Arthas looked on the stage, his expression was one of pure horror.

“Glad you could make it, Arthas.”

“UTHER?”

Uther grinned. “I always wanted to use that line on you, boy.”

“Wait, you aren’t mad that I killed you?”

“Boy, I lived a pious life. One lifetime of chastity and religion won me an eternal afterlife of debauchery and indulgence. Death isn’t something I can be mad about anymore.”

“So how did I get here?”

“I let you in. I saw your entry in the Kirin-Tor Cookoff. You were a different person than you were as the Lich King.”

“Thank you, Uther.”

“It’s no problem, boy. Now you all follow me, I’m going to show you how things work around here.”

After a guide through wonders and indulgences no physical body would understand, Kalec and his friends were all beaming. The afterlife was pretty great. But it was also a bit overwhelming. So the group settled down at a small bar. Kalec had no worries of getting drunk as a spirit.

For a while, they all sat in silence, reflecting on the lives they’d all led. But when they realized they had already done everything they needed to do with their old lives, they decided it was time to enjoy their new ones.

The bar had a special service: punching souls that had been sent into hell. Of course, Kalec’s first choice was the Dreadlord Jaina. But Jaina had been serving Sargeras, so he/she/it was still alive. Or at least in the Nether. Kalec sighed and settled for punching the soul of Med’an.

After getting everything they could from the bar, the group decided to hit the town and see more of the afterlife. There was something called a “movie theater” and an “Anime shop” and “video game store”. The group split up. Ner’zhul and Arthas decided to go watch a movie called The Evil Dead, as it reminded them of their lives. Amnennar went into the “Anime shop” to look for something new to get into. Kalec decided the video game store could be interesting. A human woman was at the desk of the store.

“Hello, sir. Is there anything you’d like today?”

“I’m not sure. First time here.”

“Take your time. After all, we kind of DO have all the time in the world now.”

Kalec smirked. An eternity of new experiences? It sure sounded good. Kalec took a look around. There were little boxes that apparently contained discs that would power games in which you could control any manner of person. But something wasn’t quite right. And it wasn’t an illusion hiding anything, but a strange game: World of Warcraft.

The cover of the game appeared to simply be an elven woman with a mana wyrm around her hand. But the logo of the game had a map of Azeroth on it. It was missing the Broken Isles and Pandaria, but it was unmistakably home. And next to it was an “Expansion” labeled Legion. It was adorned with the unmistakable image of Illidan Stormrage. This was no coincidence. Kalec took both boxes to the counter.

“Ma’am, could I please have these games?”

Suddenly, the woman’s eyes widened.

“Sir, I must apologize. We aren’t supposed to have those.”

“Why not? They look interesting.”

“I can’t explain. I’m sorry.”

“Um… okay.”

Kalec left the store with a game called Fire Emblem instead. For some reason, it invoked memories of the dream world in the Lich King’s helmet. But he had also stolen the copy of World of Warcraft. There was no money in the afterlife, so stealing wouldn’t be wrong. Right?

Arthas and Ner’zhul walked out of the theater laughing like hyenas. Kalec figured a movie called “The Evil Dead” wouldn’t have much to laugh at, but apparently he was wrong. And Amnennar walked out of the shop carrying a box that apparently contained an animated series that he called “Cowboy Bebop”. It was an odd name, but Amnennar said that it was given to him as soon as he walked in and that it was “mandatory watching”. Amnennar invited the group to watch it with him.

Right when Kalec was about to agree, Uther ran up to them, sweating.

“We need to go to City Hall immediately. Apparently there’s a ‘meeting of utmost importance’ for us to go to.” Uther looked at Kalec. “And you apparently need to bring the item you took from the game store.”

At city hall, there was a massive crowd. Bigger than any crowd Kalec had ever seen. Then again, it was every living creature who had ever walked Azeroth and Draenor while not being a massive piece of shit.

At the gates of the building were three figures. One was a bearded human man with glasses, but he had a commanding presence greater than even a titan, holding hands with a small baby gorilla that was wearing glasses. The man was wearing a simple black shirt with the word “Blizzard” written on it in blue letters. However, there was the unmistakable aura of Metzenite coming from him.

Alongside him and the gorilla was another figure. It did not appear to be human. Merely a humanoid suit of green and black armor covered in wicked spikes. It was carrying a great mining pick with the word “Data” written across the handle. In its other hand was a large signpost with the word “Forum” plastered on it. No name was needed. This goliath was the Champion known as Ememoe.

The human man spoke up. “Hello Blizzc- I mean heroes of Azeroth. It is I, your creator and your father. The voice of many of you. The one who wove the events of your lives. I am Chris Metzen.”

The gorilla simply beat its chest and let out a few ape noises. He wanted to look big and important, but he was just a cute baby gorilla. But barely anybody noticed, as everyone was gasping, as the great lord Metzen was addressing them personally. Even Kalec was speechless. He was in the presence of a true god.

“I feel like I owe you an explanation. Kalecgos, my man. Please come up. Show everyone what you’re holding.” Kalecgos sheepishly walked up to the stage. In a desperate attempt to not be forgotten in the shadow of Metzen, he turned into his dragon form to regain a small amount of presence. He handed the box to Metzen, who took it and gave Kalec a warm pat on the back.

Metzen held up the box. “This is Warcraft. This has been your home for over twenty three years. Well, more than that for you. But where I’m from, time’s a lot faster. We need to value each moment just a bit more. There’s no dragons to turn back time. Everything we do counts. And that’s why I have made a difficult decision.”

Nobody could say anything. What was their god going to say? What was his decision?

“I am leaving World of Warcraft. And with it, I am leaving you as well, my children.”

With that, everyone gasped. But nobody could be outraged. There was an odd calm in the air. An odd, melancholy calm. But peaceful.

“You won’t go away. Where I’m from, I’m not the only one in control of your world.” Metzen slapped the Champion known as Ememoe on the shoulder. “Good ol’ MMO Champion here is one of many who’s shown me how many people care about Azeroth. How many people want to watch over you and see that things turn out okay.”

MMO Champion raised its pick. There were no spoken words, but a message of the mind was sent through the crowd. “I am always here for you, as you are always here for me.”

Tears were shed, but not of sadness. Not even of happiness. Just emotion.

Metzen continued. “I started my time with Azeroth making drawings. Since then, I’ve had a hand in almost everything that you guys have went through. Thanks for pushing through it. You’re a lot stronger than the people from my home.”

Metzen held up the gorilla and put him on his shoulder. “You’ve protected your world… your families, from things that don’t even exist in my world. But that’s why I’m leaving you. I have a world too. I have a family. I want to spend time with them. Now you may be my children, but… I think you can live without me after all these years.”

The gorilla hugged Metzen and Metzen gave him a pet on the head. “It’s hard to say goodbye. But know, there are those that will guide you through the future. Because Azeroth needs heroes, and you need to help them. I’m bringing you back to Azeroth. Now you may be disappointed to go back after living in this amazing afterlife, but I promise Azeroth will be just as good as this some day. But it will be thanks to all of you, not just me. Good luck, everyone. I love all of my children, but you guys might just be some of my favorites.”

Metzen turned around into city hall and a great portal sprang up from the ground. A song with the lyrics “Sweet Home Alabama” began to play. Metzen looked back at his children and waved goodbye one more time. Everyone in the crowd, even those who were stuck in hell, waved back at their creator. Metzen and the gorilla turned around and walked away through the portal.

There was a great flash of light and all was gone. Everyone was floating in space along with MMO Champion. But the champion still had a message.

“Are you ready to go back to Azeroth? This champion needs a few more heroes to save the universe.”

There was a resounding yes, and the flash of light came back. There was no time to waste. No matter how many trials Kalec went through, no matter how many shitty humanoid beings he dealt with… he would always love Azeroth.