Deathwing

With Cho'gall dead, the Twilight drakes scattered, their coordination broken, like a flock of very confused, very leaderless chickens who had just lost their head (or two).

The northern front stabilized, and the Alliance pressed forward, looking very pleased with themselves and probably smelling faintly of ozone and victory.

N'Zoth's schemes faltered—his agents were proving to be remarkably incompetent, and his family drama was clearly distracting him. But the true battle, the one with even more tentacles, existential dread, and probably worse smells, was yet to come. Ny'alotha awaited. And it probably needed a good scrubbing.

Ebulus, one of Draenor's original four primal elemental lords, had a backstory so convoluted, it involved a dead Titan and a very enthusiastic planet. Millennia ago, Aggramar, the Titan champion, apparently had a 'bigger is better' philosophy, because he whipped up a colossal elemental construct named Golganneth just to prune Draenor's slightly overgrown Wildwood. When Golganneth, unfortunately, kicked the bucket (or rather, crumbled into very large, very angry pieces), fragments of its fiery, watery, airy, and earthy essence absorbed the planet's life energy, giving birth to the four elemental lords. Think of them as Golganneth's very dramatic, very powerful children, each with a distinct personality disorder:

Incineratus, Fury of Fire (probably prone to spontaneous combustion)

Ebulus, Fury of Water (likely very moody)

Karadius, Fury of Wind (definitely a bit of a blowhard)

Gordawg, Fury of Earth (stubborn as a rock, literally)

Originally, Galen, ever the generous soul, had considered gifting these magnificent elemental temper tantrums to Thrall, the World Shaman. But then he had a lightbulb moment (probably powered by the Heart of Origins): "Why bother with a shaman when I can have my own personal apocalypse-bringers?" His grand designs apparently involved less sharing and more conquering, which was much more efficient. So, he sealed them away, like very powerful, very noisy action figures, waiting for the perfect moment. Which, apparently, was a wedding.

And what do you give the power couple who has everything? Four elemental totems, of course! Galen, ever the thoughtful (and slightly unhinged) gift-giver, presented them to Med'an and Dolnaan as a wedding present. Because nothing says 'I love you' like the power to summon primordial forces of destruction.

And now—Dolnaan, clearly bored of the wedding leftovers and the endless small talk, unleashed Ebulus upon Sinestra, because why not? It was certainly more exciting than doing dishes.

"Ebulus, I choose you! Go, my watery friend! And try not to make too big a splash!" Dolnaan, with the dramatic flair of a Pokémon trainer who'd just had too much caffeine, shrieked.

With Dolnaan's cry, the water totem slammed into the ground, blue runes flaring like a neon sign for impending doom. A six-meter-tall water elemental, looking like a very angry, very hydrated blob, surged into existence, its liquid form swelling as it greedily slurped up seawater from the harbor. It was less a growth and more a very wet, very destructive expansion.

Ten meters... twenty... thirty... By the time Ebulus reached a truly obscene sixty meters, the surrounding buildings had been flattened by sheer tidal enthusiasm. It was less a growth and more a very wet, very destructive expansion, leaving behind a lot of very soggy debris.

Ebulus, with a watery roar that probably sounded like a thousand toilets flushing at once, unleashed a "Tidal Surge!"

A colossal geyser erupted skyward, looking like a very angry, very wet skyscraper, colliding head-on with Sinestra's Shadowflame breath. It was a clash of elemental forces and bad tempers, a truly spectacular display of "my elemental is bigger than yours."

BOOM! Steam exploded into the air, condensing into a localized storm that probably left everyone feeling very clammy and in need of a towel.

Sinestra snarled, her multi-faceted eyes widening in genuine surprise that a mere mortal had just played "block the dragon breath" and won. "You insolent little—!" But she didn't stop fleeing; she had a very important appointment with not being dead, and she was already late.

Dolnaan, however, was having none of it. She wasn't about to let her prize get away. "Oh no you don't, you overgrown lizard! Get back here!"

The Skyfire Battleship roared to life, its four turbines blazing like a thousand angry blow dryers as it gave chase. It was less a pursuit and more a very aggressive, very loud game of tag.

But Sinestra, fueled by pure terror and a desperate need for a vacation, was simply too fast. She was practically a blur.

"Karadius! I summon you! And try not to mess up my hair, it took me ages to get it this way!" Dolnaan, clearly enjoying her new toy, shrieked.

A whirlwind of storm and lightning, looking like a very angry, very energetic cloud, materialized on deck—Karadius, the Fury of Wind. He probably smelled faintly of ozone and impending doom, and looked like he'd just rolled out of bed.

Karadius, with a mighty whoosh, unleashed a "Gust Boost!" It was less a boost and more a full-on propulsion system that made the Skyfire practically vibrate with suppressed power, closing the gap to less than two kilometers. Sinestra probably felt a sudden, inexplicable tailwind and wondered if she'd eaten something funny.

"Main cannon—FIRE! And try not to hit any innocent seagulls, they're protected!"

The Skyfire's massive arcane cannon hummed to life, its blue-white runes glowing with the promise of pain. It looked like a very large, very angry laser pointer that could also vaporize dragons.

"Target locked. Firing! And remember, aim for the squishy bits, they're more effective!"

WHOOSH! A beam of pure arcane energy, looking like a very concentrated blue lightning bolt, lanced through the sky—

PUNCHING CLEAN THROUGH SINESTRA'S WING. It was less a hole and more a very dramatic, very painful perforation. She looked like a very large, very angry, very broken kite.

The Twilight Broodmother SCREAMED, a sound that probably shattered windows for miles, her right wing now looking less like a wing and more like a very sad, very broken kite. She plummeted, flapping uselessly.

The Molten Titan's Descent: Or, "When Your Wedding Gifts Get Too Enthusiastic"

"Gordawg! Incineratus! Go, my fiery, rocky friends! And try not to burn anything important, like the deck!" Dolnaan, clearly on a roll and enjoying the chaos, slammed the last two totems onto the deck.

A mountainous stone giant, looking like a particularly grumpy boulder, and a raging fire titan, looking like a very angry bonfire, emerged—and then, with a dramatic shimmer and a lot of steam, merged into a single, utterly terrifying molten colossus. It was less a merger and more a very hot, very rock-solid embrace, probably with a lot of grumbling.

Dolnaan, with a gleeful shout, commanded, "JUMP! And try not to make a mess on the way down!"

The lava behemoth, looking like a very angry, very hot cannonball, LEAPED off the Skyfire, plummeting toward Sinestra with the grace of a brick.

BOOM! Its superheated mass CRASHED onto the dragon's spine, driving her dozens of meters downward, probably leaving a very large, very painful dent and a lingering smell of burnt scales.

"RAGH!" Sinestra thrashed, rolling violently in midair like a very large, very angry, very hot crocodile trying to dislodge a particularly stubborn parasite.

The molten titan clung on with surprising tenacity, its fists pummeling her wounded wing with the rhythmic precision of a very large, very angry drummer.

But then—because things just had to get weirder—dark mist seeped from Sinestra's scales, forming Sha-possessed aberrations that looked like particularly grumpy, shadowy dust bunnies with existential crises.

"Arrogance… consumes you… and your hair looks terrible…" The Sha of Pride, looking like a very judgmental cloud, latched onto the titan, corroding its form with whispers of self-doubt and bad hair days.

Dolnaan gritted her teeth. Great, she thought. My wedding gifts are barely demigod-tier. What a rip-off. I should have asked for a toaster.

"They're not gonna last! They're dissolving faster than my patience! And they're starting to look like very unhappy puddles!"

The Blue Dragon's Intervention: Or, "Daddy's Here to Ruin the Fun"

Just as the molten titan began to crumble into a very sad, very hot pile of rocks—a shadow, impossibly vast, eclipsed the Skyfire. It was less a shadow and more a sudden, ominous eclipse, signaling a very dramatic entrance.

"Ancagalon?! Did someone order a dramatic entrance? Because I'm here!"

The Blue Dragon Aspect, looking utterly magnificent and slightly annoyed, dove from the clouds, his sapphire scales gleaming like a thousand polished sapphires. He was here to save the day, and he knew it, and he probably had a very important meeting afterward.

With a casual wave of his colossal claws, he cast Slow Fall on the disintegrating titan, making it float gently to the ground like a very large, very hot feather. Then, with a hurricane-force wingbeat that probably caused minor earthquakes, he BLASTED the Sha-corrupted fragments away. "Begone, foul whispers! And take your bad vibes with you! Nobody needs that negativity!"

"SINESTRA! You're grounded, young lady! And you're in so much trouble!"

His voice—familiar, agonizingly so, like a particularly irritating childhood memory—made the Twilight Broodmother freeze mid-flail. She looked like a deer caught in very bright, very blue headlights, utterly horrified.

"No… NO! Not him! Anyone but him! He always ruins everything!"

Her eyes flickered—a chaotic kaleidoscope of rage, fear, and "I really should have just stayed home today and watched reality TV."

"That name… is DEAD! And so will you be, if you don't shut up and let me have my dramatic villain moment!"

She lunged, her jaws snapping for his throat with the enthusiasm of a very hungry, very angry shark who'd just spotted a particularly tasty seal.

The Family Reunion from Hell: Or, "When Your Kids Are More Annoying Than the Apocalypse"

What followed was a brutal, claw-and-fang brawl that looked less like a fight and more like a very aggressive, very scaly family reunion gone horribly wrong. It was less a battle and more a very loud, very violent intervention.

Ancagalon, though technically smaller, fought like a dragon possessed by a thousand angry bees. He was surprisingly feisty for someone who'd just made a dramatic entrance.

But Sinestra, fueled by pure, unadulterated spite and a desperate need to avoid family therapy, was stronger. And probably cheating.

She ripped into his scales with a horrifying shredding sound, blue blood raining onto the ocean below like a very messy, very expensive paint spill.

"Should we… help?" Nefarian muttered, looking slightly uncomfortable. "He looks like he's losing."

"Father's got this," Onyxia said, unconvincingly, clearly trying to avoid getting involved. "He's just... warming up."

"Yeah. Definitely. He's totally fine. Just taking a breather," Sabellian nodded, equally unconvincingly, clearly hoping someone else would step in.

Then—because nothing ruins a good family brawl like an interruption—

"YOU THREE! QUIT GAPING AND HELP! I'M NOT GETTING PAID ENOUGH FOR THIS! I'M NOT A DRAGON CHEW TOY!" Ancagalon roared, his voice strained, looking utterly exasperated.

"FINE! But we're telling Mom you made us!"

The three Golden Dragons finally swooped in, looking like they were reluctantly joining a chore they'd been putting off. Only to get slapped aside like unruly whelps who'd just tracked mud on the carpet. It was a very undignified display.

"MOTHER, STOP! You're messing up my scales!" Onyxia yelped, her snout swelling from the impact.

"I CAN'T HOLD HER! She's surprisingly strong for someone who just got a hole in her wing! And she smells like burnt toast!" Nefarian groaned, tangled in her tail, looking utterly miserable.

Ancagalon, bleeding profusely and looking like he'd just gone ten rounds with a very angry cheese grater, made one last, desperate gamble—

"NOW! DO IT NOW! Before she redecorates my face with her teeth! I'm not getting any younger here!"

The Golden Retribution: Or, "The Ultimate Two-for-One Deal"

The three siblings, looking utterly fed up with their dysfunctional family, aligned themselves with grim determination—

"LIGHT'S… RETRIBUTION! And this time, it's personal! And shiny! And very, very final!"

A trinity of holy breath, a blinding, golden torrent of pure, righteous fury, merged into a single, devastating beam—

PIERCING BOTH Ancagalon AND SINESTRA. Because why kill one dragon when you can get a two-for-one deal? It was efficient, if a little awkward.

"GAAAH—!" (Sinestra's last, indignant squawk, probably followed by a very rude word.)

The Twilight Broodmother's heart didn't just stop; it vaporized, probably leaving a very neat, very empty hole and a lingering smell of ozone.

Ancagalon, impaled alongside her like a very large, very unwilling shish kebab, gritted his teeth. "Well, that's awkward," he probably thought, before adding, "It's... over... And I need a very long nap. And a medic. And maybe a new body."

The two crashed into the sea, vanishing beneath the waves, leaving behind only a faint shimmer and a lot of very confused fish who wondered what kind of storm that was.

Aftermath: Or, "Dolnaan's Wisdom and the Lingering Smell of Old Gods"

The Golden Dragons hovered, panting like they'd just run a marathon, and probably needed a good lie down and a very strong drink.

"Did we just… kill Father?" Sabellian asked, looking mildly concerned, as if he'd just accidentally run over a squirrel.

"Technically, yes," Nefarian admitted, with a shrug that probably involved a lot of scales. "But he asked for it. And he was being very dramatic."

"WORTH IT," Onyxia declared, already planning her victory speech and probably a new line of dragon-themed merchandise.

Dolnaan, still aboard the Skyfire, watching the whole dramatic spectacle unfold, simply facepalmed. Hard. "Dragons," she muttered, shaking her head. "So dramatic. And so messy. And they always leave such a mess."

N'Zoth's schemes faltered—his agents were proving to be remarkably incompetent, and his family drama was clearly distracting him. But the true battle, the one with even more tentacles, existential dread, and probably worse smells, was yet to come. Ny'alotha awaited. And it probably needed a good scrubbing.