Infinite Azeroths: Blackmoore

Timeline: Azeroth-14
Character: Kel’thuzad, Court Sorcerer of Lordaeron

“I proclaim you guilty!” a verdict sounded across the throne chambers of Lordaeron. “I hereby sentence you to death,” King Blackmoore proclaimed with a hit of his royal scepter against the glided arm of the throne. The peasant threw himself on the floor, begging for mercy on his knees.

“Please, my king, forgive me,” he begged, “I just wanted to feed my family!” Aedelas Blackmoore was never well respected in the kingdom. He was always considered a ruthless ruler who claimed to be just but was anything but it.

“Enough!” Blackmoore shouted, and silenced the whispering crowd with a wave of his arm. “I proclaimed the sentence. There are no more appellations. You will be hanged at dawn.”

Although the peasant protested, he was carried away by the guardsmen. Many in the crowd murmured about the unjustice of this sentence, but I didn’t care. Justice is a term mortal men made up to make themselves feel better. The only thing that really matters in this cruel world is power. And Aedelas Blackmoore had power. By serving him, I would share in this power. But an even greater power evaded him…

I immediately left the throne room and went slowly back to my study, wondering about the short time everyone seems to have forgotten. A few years back, king Aedelas Blackmoore mysteriously disappeared. No one knew when exactly or why or how, but the first thing I did when I was proclaimed Lord Regent was taking a sample of strange, black ash covering the floor next to Blackmoore’s bed. At first, it refused to budge to any of my magical probings, but after a while I realized I was doing everything wrong. I used a small sample of the Sands of Time I obtained from an old Kirin Tor vault and unsurprisingly, the two substances reacted violently to each other. There was no doubt, King Blackmoore was taken by the faction I only heard stories about. The mysterious, twisted dragons who sought to undo time itself – the Infinite Dragonflight.

For a time, I enjoyed my powers as Lord Regent. Blackmoore of course had no idea how to rule a country, but luckily for the realm, I did. I actually improved the economy and agriculture. I introduced new, magically improved methods to increase crop yields and to find mineral ores quicker and to get the miners in and out in a safer way. Of course, I enjoyed my power a bit as well, getting rid of some of the people that slighted me, but with the improving quality of life few complained. A benevolent dictator, they called me. I must admit, I rather liked that epithet. It spoke of power and of respect at the same time.

But one day I left for some much needed research. Partially, it was to do with truly understanding how or where Blackmoore went. A part of me wanted him back, just to solve the mystery, but another part of me knew I was a much better ruler than he ever was. But even if I succeeded at finding out the method of his transportation, I wouldn’t be obliged to help him. I just had to know. I closed myself in a temporal bubble and began my studies but after spending what felt like a century in there, I was no closer to any results. Finally, I left the bubble and appeared back in my laboratory. To my surprise, a royal guard was waiting for me. And informed me King Blackmoore awaits me.

In a conversation that made me look like a madman, I learned Aedelas Blackmoore never left. As far as everyone was concerned, I was never Lord Regent. I was never a “benevolent dictator” who improved the quality of life in Lordaeron. Peasants were still starving and begging the impotent throne for help. Blackmoore was still just parading around in that black armor of his and quelling any revolts with an iron fist. Everything I did in the past years was destroyed. More than destroyed, it was erased from existence, as if it never happened. Because I guess now it never happened. Only I and I alone remembered those events, probably protected from whatever did it by my temporal bubble.

Despite my explanations that must have sounded like total madness to Aedelas Blackmoore, he confided in me. He said he needed help. The exiled King Arthas and his best friend King Varian of Stormwind were preparing a massive army to strike back at him and retake Lordaeron. Blackmoore’s position was becoming increasingly precarious. The people of Lordaeron hated him. Dalaran hated me for defecting and Blackmoore by proxy. Gilneas walled itself off and pretended it didn’t see anything, but Kul Tiras was always eager to take a shot at Lordaeron’s navy, largely untouched since the Second War. Stromgarde had problems of their own, but believed that if they helped Stormwind and Arthas, they would be helped by them in turn. Only Alterac remained in support of us, and even that was hanging by a thread of our weakening military support.

Aedelas Blackmoore needed an army. A new army that would help him secure his place in Lordaeron and perhaps fight back against the defiant kingdoms surrounding us. But he didn’t need just any army. Mortal men can be bribed or seduced. Mortal men tire and defect. Blackmoore needed an army that wouldn’t do any of these things. An army that will never tarry or stop, or question their orders. An army that will serve their king… no, their master forever. An army that defies death itself.

The experiments took a long time, but after capitalizing on some of my old research of orcish magic, I was able to produce one of the fully operational creatures that I would soon show my king. Creatures that would become our future. The key to immortality.

When the assistants told me the creature was finally conscious and able to move by itself, but still listened to all of their commands, I knew I had to see it. As they lifted the steel door barring its cage, I gazed upon its beauty. Sure it may have looked ugly to the mortal eyes, but I was able to look past it. I was able to see its true potential to change the world as we know it. This… ghoul looked at me with expectant eyes, like a child at its dearest parents. “Daddy?” it uttered, confused.

In a way, I am a father. But not just of this creature. I am a father of a new era.

About Arakkoa

Verroak Krasha, an Arakkoa druid with over 50 years of experience. Formerly from Farahlon, during the Orcish expansion relocated to Skettis, then to Sethekk Halls, then to rebuilt Shattrath, following the heresies in each of those places. Finally, he founded his own succesfull alchemy business and set out into the wide cosmos to explore strange new worlds and seek out new life and boldly go where no bird has flown before. View all posts by Arakkoa

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