Population Boom, Azeroth Part 2

"Even if you can draw the undead into an ambush, there are hundreds of thousands of undead, even archmages die when they're swarmed," Aelrae warned the young man, trying to talk him out of risking his life in some pointless attempt to destroy the remnants of the Lich King's army since he could create mana crystals on a scale that might actually give his people enough time to find a solution to their dependency on the Sunwell.

Mist glanced at the female high elf that he'd rescued from the cage then went back to studying the map of the Ghostlands that was pinned to the wall behind Drathir's desk. "I'm not planning on going out in a blaze of glory, I just want to use the monsters to deal with the Amani before they decide to swarm us."

"They won't be a problem if we can get the wards back up," Aelrae argued.

"Not a chance in hell," Mist stated, not seeing a realistic way to power a bunch of ward stones that were designed to run off an endless font of magic and cover an entire country. "Even if half the ward stones weren't broken, there's no way we could power them for more than a couple of hours and that's being generous."

"You could probably power them with enough mana crystals," Vyaeon suggested.

Mist glanced at the male blood elf. "I'm willing to make a couple of dozen magic crystals to keep the high elves from dying from mana starvation, I'm not willing to spend the next couple of months making the damned things so the high elves can stick their heads in the sand."

"We appreciate the help," Aelrae cut in before her partner could say something to offend the mage that had volunteered to help. "I'm not a magister, I was just hoping that the wards would be enough to give us some breathing room against the undead."

"I can appreciate the thought but hiding won't fix your problems, even without the undead, you're still dealing with the fact that you have hundreds of thousands of mana addicted elves running around that will start absorbing mana from anything and everything to feed their addiction."

"I'm aware," Aelrae admitted, trying not to think about the fact that she'd been half starved herself before she'd been rescued. "How long do you think it will take to deal with the undead?"

"I don't know, a lot of it depends on the necromancers." Mist turned to look at the clone of one of the cultists as she walked up to the door. "The more undead they can redirect at the Amani the better."

"We're trying," the clone assured him. "Sorry to interrupt but a group of Magisters want to see you."

"That was faster than I expected," Mist admitted as he left the makeshift office, not seeing a point in keeping the magisters waiting. He glanced at the broken fragments of the gargoyle that he'd killed when he'd claimed the tower, making a mental note to have someone toss it in the rock pile when they had a chance.

"They probably teleported," Aelrae pointed out as they followed Mist.

"I need to learn that spell," Mist muttered as he walked outside and saw the group of elves in red robes. 'At least their eyes aren't glowing with fel magic.'

Magister Rommath stared at the child that held enough mana to rival several archmages, wondering if he was a dragon in disguise. "You have my thanks for saving two of my people."

"Fantastic, does that mean you're willing to ask someone in charge if they're willing to sell me Deatholme in exchange for a couple of dozen large mana crystals?" Mist asked.

"Why do you want Deatholme?" Magister Rommath asked, not sure why anyone would want the tainted fortress.

"I need a base for my war against the Scourge and the walls are already in place," Mist replied, not seeing a point in mentioning the leyline under Deatholme or the fact that the sheer amount of death magic in the area would make it easier to draw the undead to them.

"You can't expect the king to sell off his land for a couple mana crystals," Rommath argued, knowing the king would probably agree to the mage's offer since his people were desperate and the mana crystal he'd sensed by the cages contained enough mana to keep an entire district fed for a week.

"You've already lost most of your country and your people are basically starving, I'm just asking for one small fortress and access to the roads that lead to human lands so that I can deal with the undead and the trolls in exchange for enough mana to give you a chance to get back on your feet."

"You're trying to take advantage of the situation," Magister Hawkhelm complained.

Mist glanced at the red haired elf that was glaring at him. "I don't owe you anything, you barely sent a token force when the dark portal opened and a nearly endless horde of fel tainted orcs rushed over the land.

"We sent people," Magister Hawkhelm argued.

"You sent a token force, a bare handful because doing less would have cost you the rest of your honor and pride, so no, you don't get to sit there and claim that I'm a monster for wanting to get paid for risking my life. But sure, if you want to be unreasonable, I'll leave and the undead and the cult will take the fortress back and continue rampaging through your lands and killing everyone they find."

"You'd be responsible," one of the other Magisters piped up.

"No, that would be the king's fault or your fault for not sharing the offer," Mist replied, not particularly impressed by the idiot that was glaring at him. "I'm not asking for the world, I'm just asking to get paid for my work. I'd give you the mana crystals but I've seen a version of the future, you don't deserve it."

"Prophecy or time travel?" Rammoth asked before someone could say something they'd regret.

"Let's just call it a vision, I don't need the bronze dragons showing up to kill me because I'm screwing up their perfect nightmare vision of the future," Mist replied, not wanting to explain that his world had a game that was remarkably similar to their world.

"What happened?" Rammoth asked.

"The prince left for the world through the Dark Portal and made a deal with Illidan Stormrage, he basically sold his people to the Legion in exchange for magical secrets that would let them feed off fel mana. The person he left in charge sold the remains to the Horde because one of the alliance leaders was a xenophobia lunatic that wanted your people dead because the orcs killed his family after the dark portal opened and he blames the elves for diverting people that could have saved his village. So, yeah, rather than try to explain things to the dwarves and the gnomes, your leaders sell out the entire Alliance because someone got their feelings hurt and what's worse, they sell out to a group of undead that hate the living. That hunger and hatred never goes away."

"We have no reason to believe you," Hawkhelm pointed out.

Mist sighed. "I don't really care if you believe me, you asked why I wasn't willing to just give you the mana stones, I told you. I've seen the shit your people do to feed their addiction and I'd bet a thousand gold to five that one of your magisters is thinking about trying to take me prisoner so that I'll have no choice about making mana stones, I don't suggest it."

"None of us are that stupid, you wouldn't be here if you weren't combat trained," Rommath said, hoping none of his magisters were stupid enough to admit that they'd discussed that very option before teleporting to the fort.

"Every time the world gets a break and there's a chance for peace someone fucks it up. It's usually the undead or the orcs but your king was willing to make a deal with demons and the leader of the night elves is a delusional idiot, he blames arcane magic for attracting the Legion when the Legion already knew about Azeroth. So yeah, there's enough blame to go around."

"What about the humans?" one of the magisters demanded.

"On occasion, sure," Mist replied with a shrug. "They've also stood in the path of the monsters trying to destroy Azeroth and said, "Not today, not while I breathe," more times than I can count. We have the best, we have some of the worst. Everyone has traitors, just look at Drathir or Arthas, but there are people that want peace. I'm not asking for much, I just want a place to create a magic school that I can use as a base to destroy the undead."

"You're insane if you think the prince is going to sell us out," one of the magisters argued.

"He's not wrong about the King's plans to look for a solution to our problems in Outland," Rommath admitted, knowing that his King was growing increasingly desperate.

"We have incoming undead and cultists!" one of the clones called out as they ran over, more than a little concerned about the army of undead that had shown up that wasn't under their control.

"Coming!" Mist told the clone then focused on the magisters. "Feel free to top up your mana pools with the crystal by the cage, I need to kill some undead."

"Do you…" Rommath trailed off as the human flew up into the air and flew toward the gate faster than he could run. "We should probably help."

Mist flew up the wall and stared down at the army of undead, a bit surprised that they looked more like an organized army than a mob of mindless undead. "Death to the Scourge!"

"We're not Scourge!" one of the undead called out, not interested in picking a fight with an archmage that could fly and rain down hell from above, especially if he wasn't part of the Scourge.

Mist briefly considered trying to torch the entire army before the blood elves realized that the Forsaken had sent an army to help before deciding that he couldn't hold future events against the soldiers, especially since his 'knowledge' was based on a game. 'Maybe I'm making a mistake but I'm not going to be that guy, especially since I can probably find a spell to bring them back to life.'

"Lady Sylvanas Windrunner sent us to help kill the Scourge," one of the undead called out.

"Excellent," Mist lied, less than happy about the Forsaken showing up to screw with his plans and complicate things. "You'll have to forgive me if I don't trust you enough to let your army into my fortress but I'm willing to discuss plans with your leaders."

"That is acceptable," Sylvanas called out as she walked out of a group of undead, looking mostly alive if you ignored her pale skin.

'Fuck!' Mist cursed silently, annoyed that he wouldn't be able to just kill the general if something went wrong. 'How the hell did she get here this fast? Portals? It should have taken them the better part of a day to get here,' he complained, making a note to set up some wards against scrying when he had a chance.

"Sylvanas?" Rommath called out from the wall.

"Magister Rommath, this is an unexpected surprise," Sylvanas called out, not particularly happy to see the magister since his presence complicated her plan to take over the fortress now that the scourge had been wiped out.

"I received a report from one of my agents that Drathir had been dealt with and that Deatholme had fallen," Rommath replied, thinking about Mist's comment about the undead. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"I haven't given up on protecting my homeland," Sylvanas replied. "I got a report that Deatholme fell, it seemed like a good chance to help clear out the remaining Scourge."

"Excellent timing," one of the other magisters that had taken the stairs offered, a touch out of breath.

"Right," Mist muttered under his breath. "You might as well come inside, so we don't have to shout," he called out, trying to be civil despite his dislike for Sylvanas.

"Of course," Sylvanas replied, curious about the strange mage that had taken over the fortress.

0o0o0

"What do you think?" Sylvana asked the human mage that had mostly kept his mouth shut while they were discussing the upcoming campaign.

Mist pulled his attention from the runes he was studying that he'd learned from a sample of the dirt he'd taken from the Dead Scar. "Honestly? I think you're taking advantage of the blood elves, they're barely holding on and you want to show up and solve their problems while destroying or recruiting a bunch of undead for your army so that you can turn around and ask them for help in Northrend."

"He needs to die," Sylvanas snapped.

"I'm not disagreeing on that, he was a monster when he was human and he got worse when he was turned into a Death Knight. He was obsessed with Mal'ganis to the point where he went on a crusade and destroyed his army's boats so they couldn't leave after he stranded them in a frozen wasteland. You're doing the same, you're willing to let your pet alchemist experiment with a plague to try to find ways to kill the Scourge, you don't use a plague to kill the undead, you use fire or holy light."

"Plague?" Rommath asked warily.

"Putress is making a plague that will turn people into undead, her only requirement was that it kill the Scourge as well," Mist replied. "If you grab your bow, I'll set you on fire, you'll burn until you die even if you manage to kill me."

"What makes you think you'd finish your spell?" Sylvanas asked, wondering how he knew about the plague that Putress was working on.

"Because it's a talent and my bracers have let me survive worse," Mist replied, not taking his eyes off of her in case he had to teleport or set her on fire. "The only reason I didn't burn your army to ashes is because some of them might be innocent and there might be a way to save your people but sure, give me a reason and I'll turn you to ash or die trying."

"What makes you think they can be saved?" Sylvanas asked.

"Because I have the ability to make magical items that transform people into healthy teenagers and there's a decent chance that it would fix the curse," Mist told her.

"What's the cost?" Hawkhelm asked, knowing that such magic usually had a cost.

"Nothing, those I'd happily make by the hundreds if it meant seeing an end to the Forsaken, I've seen a version of the future, she makes Arthas look like a saint."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Sylvanas snapped, thinking about the stuff Arthas did to her and her people.

"Your Forsaken are monsters and not because they're undead, they're monsters because they think nothing of harming the innocent or tainting the land."

"What did you see?" Sylvanas asked.

"War and death, you made some type of deal with some eldritch abomination in the Shadowlands for souls or maybe you're just stupid enough to think that the Elune wouldn't kill you for trying to genocide her chose people."

"Genocide?" Rommath asked.

"She burned Teldrassil, she killed hundreds of thousands of night elves in an attempt to cripple the alliance so that her precious fucking horde would be able to force the alliance into horrible peace deals. Keep in mind this was after Putress stabbed everyone in the back when the horde and alliance were in the process of killing Arthas, something that let him escape by the way." Mist glared at Sylvanas. "So yeah, you'll have to forgive me for not trusting you."

"There had to be more to it than that," Sylvanas replied.

"You refused to take responsibility for your part in the mess and the horde refused to burn the forsaken to ash for stabbing everyone in the back, that basically made peace all but impossible. I have sympathy for the fact that you got turned into undead abominations, but that doesn't give you the right to spread the plague or to taint the land so that no one else can live there. Your people destroyed entire towns because people attacked the forsaken because they were raiding and they thought they were monsters."

"You're delusional," Sylvanas argued.

"No, I've just seen a version of the future where you let your hate consume you, it's always someone else's fault or the ends justify the means. We'll have peace when everyone is dead or when I win or whatever your fucking excuse was. Take my advice, use magic to turn yourself into an actual person before you lose the rest of your humanity."

"Do you want my help?" Sylvanas asked Rommath, deciding to ignore the insane human, mostly because killing him in front of the elves would add weight to what he'd said.

"We'll always welcome the help against the Scourge, but I have serious concerns about any type of long term association if you're creating plagues," Rommath warned her, having noticed that she hadn't denied it.

"We'll march north then," Sylvanas said, figuring that actions spoke louder than words and that she'd be able to convince the king to join if they saved them from the Scourge and executed the 'rogue' alchemist, fairly sure the mage hadn't been lying about Putress costing them a chance to kill Arthas.

"Best of luck and happy hunting," Mist offered as he turned to look at the clones he'd made of the cultists. "Feel free to help Rommath, I've got a project to finish."

"Of course," the clone agreed.

Mist slipped into the shadow realm and headed for the door, not wanting to give Sylvanas a chance to shoot him in the back as he wasn't particularly sure his bracers would stop an arrow from her heavily enchanted bow and he didn't want to find out the hard way that they wouldn't. He turned his attention back to the runes in his enchanting window as he made his way out of the tower. 'Okay, if I remove the tainted runes and increase the draw, I should be able to make something that will pull all of the undead in the area to the scar so I can burn them to ash, that should prevent the Forsaken from getting as much credit.'

Mist walked out of the tower and flew up into the sky, happy that he didn't have to worry about gargoyles or flying pests in the shadow realm. He spent the next couple of minutes trying to figure out how to get a set of activation runes to work as he flew north, following the Dead Scar.

'Screw it, I don't need to be able to activate it or deactivate it, I can always just toss it in my inventory or break it,' he mused, having gotten a bit tired of trying to figure out how to link the runes in a way that would let him turn the enchantment on and off. He cleared the runes he'd been trying to use to make a switch then tossed a metal spike into his enchanting box and hit the button, creating something that would draw the undead for miles around.

'Now, I just need like fifty of them and a couple of hours,' Mist mused as he swapped the enchanted spike with another spike from his inventory. 'Or I'll just start using rocks when I run out of tent spikes.'

0o0o0

Mist smiled as he used his black flames to torch the massive horde of undead that were trying to get through the magical barrier a group of magisters had placed around the town, earning himself several thousand permanent mana for his trouble as his enchanted underwear proved its worth yet again. 'I need to get an enchanted boombox, playing we are the champions right now would be awesome.'

He turned his attention to the swarm of gargoyles flying over the barrier and dropping things on it in an attempt to wear it down and torched them with black flames, causing the swarm to die screaming as they tried fleeing. He finished off the gargoyles then turned visible so the defenders could see him helping and made a circuit of the town, dealing with the remaining undead surrounding it. He flew down to the gates outside the barrier and waved. "Hello!"

"Thank the light!" one of the blood elves exclaimed, shocked that someone had almost casually dealt with the undead horde surrounding them.

Mist winced when the barrier flickered and collapsed as one of the magisters collapsed to one knee, letting him know that the defenders were seriously stretched. "Do you need mana?" he called out.

He wasn't particularly surprised that most of the defenders shouted "Yes!" rather enthusiastically. He walked past the gate then used his spell crystal to conjure a large floating mana crystal. "Feel free to fill up, I'll make more!" he called out as he moved a few feet to his left and cast his spell again, creating another large mana stone. "How many stones do you want?"

"How many can you make?" the old magister asked as he pushed himself back up to his feet through sheer force of will.

"Let's find out," Mist replied with amusement as he moved a few feet to the left and created another mana crystal, figuring he had enough for a couple more before he took a break and went back to the Dead Scar to hunt the undead that should be showing up now that he'd dropped his enchanted spikes. 'At least they won't lose Tranquillien,' he mused as he noticed the blood elf children peeking out of the houses. 'Hopefully the king doesn't call my bluff about the crystals,' he mused, knowing that he'd help even if they wouldn't give him Deatholme for a magic school.

0o0o0