Supreme Beings of Azeroth

Although Ainz had transformed the hellscape of the Burning Steppes into a verdant land with the Super Tier Magic [Creation, it was far from the perfect solution he had hoped for. The spell had eradicated the searing fire and ash, but challenges remained for him to tackle. The absence of wildlife left the ecosystem incomplete, leaving it imbalanced and unsustainable in the long run. Neither Ainz, Buku, nor his subordinates possessed the magical ability to summon animals bugs, and other creatures necessary for a healthy balance, and efforts to invite animal spirits, the Loa, into the region had been entirely unsuccessful. The troll witch doctors had tried extensively communicating with the Loa, but the spirits were hesitant, viewing Ainz and Buku as foreign entities beyond their understanding and thus to be avoided at all costs.

For the time being, the foraging of fruits and roots from the newly grown forest temporarily solved the food shortages. The abundance of edible vegetation kept the orcs and ogres occupied, giving them a purpose and reducing tensions within the populace while feeding hungry mouths and stomachs, a two-for-one morale booster.

Ainz walked along a newly made trail, his dragon guards trailing behind at a respectful distance. His primary goal was to assess whether the Firelord's influence was seeping back into the land, but so far, his spell seemed to have effectively purged the fiery energies in their entirety, leaving no trace behind. Despite the heavy weight of his responsibilities, the quiet forest offered him a rare moment of solitude to self-ponder. With Buku often at his side, such peaceful moments were becoming increasingly rare. Though he cherished his wife's company, there was something uniquely calming about being alone in the gentle embrace of the forest, especially one as safe as this one.

He reached out to a nearby tree, plucking a broad, succulent leaf. He studied it thoughtfully, marveling at how life thrived as long as he suppressed the negative energies that radiated from his undead form. Yet, he couldn't ignore the precarious balance of the transformation. The greenery thrived only because of his magic, and the lands to the north and lower mountain slopes remained under the dominion of fire, hostile to any attempts of further spreading. Ainz knew the spell's effects couldn't last indefinitely; eventually, the fire's destructive nature could reclaim its hold if he wasn't careful.

The Loa's refusal to inhabit the land pushed Ainz to seek alternative solutions. In Yggdrasil, druid and beastmaster classes could harmonize such ecosystems, but his knowledge of their spells and abilities was limited compared to his knowledge of the necromantic arcane. Nazarick's guidebooks contained detailed descriptions of Aura and Mare's abilities, but those lists lacked the depth he needed to replicate their magic, nor did he have access to NPCs of the past. Recasting [Creation] to brute force the initial round of creation was an option, but relying solely on his power was a dangerous precedent for his empire. Independence and sustainability were priorities he couldn't afford to neglect when creating the foundation of his empire.

As he walked in peace, Ainz considered another matter; what to name the transformed region. 'Burning Steppes' no longer reflected its nature, but finding a fitting name was proving difficult. Mirkwood, inspired by Yggdrasil's dark forests, tempted him, but it lacked relevance to the bright, lush forest surrounding him. As he continued down the trail, feeling the soft grass and moss beneath his skeletal feet, his thoughts wandered to forests of old - both in the game and from distant memories. Whatever name he chose, it would need to capture the promise of renewal and the lingering shadow of its fiery past.

'What was that area called where we battled the Champions of Odin guild? It's… I knew it… why can't I… Jarnvidr! Right, the area was called Janvidr. I can go with that. I'll ask Buku if she likes it first though.' The name 'Jarnvidr' had a certain weight and mystique that seemed fitting for the reborn land, especially since it came from another world. Still, before making any decisions, he resolved to consult Buku. Her perspective often illuminated nuances he might have overlooked.

His reflections were interrupted by a dragon's sudden arrival, its unease evident.

"Your, Imperial Majesty!" the dragon called out, swiftly shifting to its humanoid form upon landing.

Inselion was but a messenger tasked to carry information between more important dragons than him and the leaders of the lesser races. The young dragon had yet to prove himself to be entrusted with something more important. But that was a life for a young dragon who wasn't a child of Onyxia but one of the lesser dragonesses.

To deliver a message to the dark God ruling over his king was a nerve wrecking experience to say the least. Ainz Ooal Gown according to rummors had killed Lord nfarian witha single spell and then rose the mighty dragon from the dead as if it ws a trivial thing.

The supreme being's mere presence was something he struggled to understand.

Ainz's guards subtly adjusted their positions, stepping closer in a protective formation. Their instincts sharpened at the mention of hostilities. Though none spoke, their body language conveyed readiness, their claws flexing and faint trails of steam escaping from their nostrils as they tightened their grasp on their weapons.

Ainz, ever observant, raised a hand in a calming gesture, silently signaling his guards to hold their composure. The dragon guards immediately stilled, their rigid postures softening slightly. Yet, their sharp eyes remained fixed on the messenger. The messenger, acutely aware of their scrutinizing stares, bowed its head low toward Ainz, taking great care to appear deferential. In the presence of their new and supreme liege, even dragons knew better than to let their innate arrogance display itself.

"Did something happen?" Ainz inquired, noticing the dragon's unease.

"A group of Kirin Tor mages entered our lands and attacked a border patrol. One orc was killed and two others were heavily injured. They're being treated by witch doctors. We subdued the attackers and captured one alive. Should we torture the prisoner for information?"

Ainz considered the report. His standing orders discouraged needless violence or hostility unless provoked, but even so, such incidents were rare. This situation, however, demanded a measured approach for future responses and intelligence gathering.

"No. I will question the captive myself. Where is he being held?"

"In the prison area, Your Majesty. Allow me to transport you." The dragon opened a gate for him. The spell was costly but luckily adult dragons were naturally gifted in magic and had large mana pools so they could use this means of travel with relative ease, meaning a few demonstrations had massively improved the logistics of his realm. Ainz stepped through without hesitation. The dragon guards exchanged a final glance among themselves before trailing behind Ainz.

The prison area was as foreboding as ever, a stark contrast to the verdant trails Ainz had walked moments earlier. The walls, still marked by the heat of the past, were cracked and dry, housing a grim collection of prisoners from various races. Small cells were filled with orcs, trolls, dark iron dwarves, and an occasional gnoll or dragonoid, bruised and wounded from torture. In one of the cells was a young human mage, about twenty years old, in the violet robes of the Kirin Tor, laid bound and drained of mana. The protective wards ensured even the most adept spellcasters the dragons had encountered couldn't escape.

"Put him upright," Ainz commanded the orc guard.

The guard complied immediately, roughly yanking the man to his feet. The prisoner's face betrayed both fear and defiance as he glared at Ainz, his trembling subtle but noticeable.

"You entered my lands and attacked my people, why?" Ainz demanded, his tone steady. He hoped for a resolution that would avoid unnecessary escalation. Attacking Dalaran, home to the Kirin Tor, would not only sever any possibility of diplomacy but solidify Nazarick as an irredeemable enemy to the world, an unideal situation considering his incomplete domestic developments.

The young mage sneered, "Your lands?"

"Ah, I see introductions are in order," Ainz replied, tilting his head slightly. "I am Ainz Ooal Gown, Emperor of the Nazarick Empire. You and your companions trespassed on my lands and attacked my people. For now, I am asking questions politely. Who are you and why did you attack?"

The captive's eyes narrowed, his expression tinged with confusion and disbelief. "Ainz Ooal Gown? That can't be."

"So you've heard of me?" Ainz continued, his glowing red eyes locking onto the mage's own.

"Yes…" the man admitted hesitantly. "The heroes who stopped the riots in Stormwind. But you were reported to be a human, not an undead."

Ainz chuckled softly, his deep voice echoing through the prison chamber. "Ah, a reasonable misunderstanding. My wife and I traveled through human lands using visages, disguises that masked our true forms, seeking a land to claim our own. In truth, we are not human, and this land - and all who dwell within it - are now under my dominion. Now, once again, who are you, and why did you attack my people?"

The man mage hesitated, his eyes darting around the cell as though seeking an escape, only to fail. He clenched his jaw, visibly torn between defiance and self-preservation. After a moment, he muttered, "I am Thalric, an apprentice of the Kirin Tor. We were sent to investigate reports of… unnatural occurrences in the Burning Steppes. When we encountered your patrol, we assumed they were hostile. It was a mistake."

"A mistake," Ainz repeated, his voice cold. "An easily avoidable one, had your group exercised restraint or diplomacy. Which means your lands have hostile intent toward us. Tell me, Thalric, who sent you?"

The young man's silence stretched for several moments before he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I represent the City State of Dalaran."

"Interesting," Ainz replied, his mind racing. The Kirin Tor's interest in the region was both troubling and expected; measures would need to be taken and fast. "And what were you told about these so-called 'unnatural occurrences'?"

"That… entities of great power were altering the land," Thalric admitted, his defiance fading under Ainz's unrelenting gaze, beginning to shiver.

Ainz's bony hand lifted in a calculated gesture, the gesture neither hostile nor welcoming. "Entities of great power, indeed. I cast the spell that transformed the area. Now tell me, Thalric, would Dalaran be open to establishing a diplomatic relationship with Nazarick, or would it be hostile to non-human races?"

The mage's eyes widened briefly before he stammered, "I… I cannot speak for the mage council or the Archmage Rhonin, but I can deliver the message and report in detail what happened here."

Ainz leaned back slightly, nodding. "As of now, you stand as a criminal who attacked my people, However, I am willing to overlook this incident as a misunderstanding - provided Dalaran responds amicably. Should they reject my generous offer, you will be considered a wanted criminal and executed for your crimes, no matter where you choose to hide. Nazarick is willing to pursue peaceful relations, but we will not tolerate hostilities against us."

To punctuate his words, Ainz allowed a fraction of his oppressive aura to radiate outward. Thalric's eyes shut tight as his teeth chattered uncontrollably, terror reducing him to near incoherence while the entity before him stood, unmoving like the unfathomable peaks of the Burning Steppes.

"I-I will deliver this m-message, Your Majesty," The mage stuttered, barely able to speak.

"Good," Ainz intoned, his voice returning to its calm, regal cadence. "Release him and escort him to the border. But be warned; If your leaders choose to make Nazarick an enemy, your city will suffer the same fate as it did during the burning legion invasion."

The guards saluted and moved to carry out the order, their stoic expressions concealing the tension that rippled through them, roughly picking up the man.

Ainz watched the trembling mage as he was dragged away, mind racing. He had no illusions that this encounter would be the last of its kind, the other powers of the world were already making their moves. Still, he understood the value of measured diplomacy, even with nations as powerful as Dalaran. Forgiveness, granted sparingly, could buy time… and time was something Ainz Ooal Gown always intended to use to his advantage.

Jaina Proudmoore sat in quiet contemplation, a glass of Dalran noir - a favorite wine of hers ever since she enrolled in the magical academy - in her hand. The inn in Ironforge, though lively and warm, seemed distant to her in her moment of introspection. The polished stone walls and crude but sturdy furniture, crafted with the care and simplicity of experienced dwarven artisans, contrasted with the elegance she brought to the room with her decorations. Yet, she felt at ease among the patrons, her solitude respected for who she was and the power she wielded.

As a ruler of Theramore and one of the most powerful mages alive, Jaina didn't require the presence of guards, at most they were an unnecessary formality whenever she interacted with other royalty. Any would-be attacker would swiftly realize why she had faced enemies like Archimonde and survived. She took another sip of the wine, savoring its rich taste, as her mind returned to the troubling news from Rhonin, churning on the information.

The report was almost too extraordinary to believe. Ainz Ooal Gown and his equally mysterious wife had not only taken control of the Black Dragons and the Dark Horde but also transformed the Burning Steppes into a lush forest teeming with plant life. Entire fertile grasslands now flourished where ashen desolation had once reigned, and tonnes of fertile soil replaced scorched earth as far as the eye could see. The sheer scale of their power was staggering.

Rhonin had assured her that the pair weren't demons, they would've chosen different routes of conquest. But that assurance did little to settle her unease. Whatever they were, their strength was undeniable, their intentions enigmatic. And unknowns were the bane of any ruler. Jaina couldn't even theorize what kind of magic they wielded, and even the Kirin Tor's scholars were baffled with all of their information gathering. There was one thing she did know for sure; the mysterious pair wasn't to be underestimated, on a level with Archimonde himself, the demon lord who destroyed the Dalaran with a single spell and almost destroyed the world tree as well. Whoever decided to go to war with them would pay dearly to say the least.

For that reason, Rhonin had put his feet down and declared that Dalaran would work with the Nazarick Empire and do their best to keep peace; they just couldn't afford to anger the emerging nation.

And yet, conflict loomed. The Alliance, particularly Stormwind, was inching closer to open war with the Dark Horde, whose orcs were encroaching further into Redridge by the day. The tension was a powder keg waiting for a spark, one that could easily draw the Nazarick Empire into a devastating confrontation with the Alliance now that they controlled the orcs and ogres. Rhonin had promised to mediate, to find a solution before the situation spiraled out of control, but there was no guarantee anything would work.

"More cheese, missy?" The barkeep's friendly, lilting voice broke through her thoughts like sunlight into a cavern. The older dwarven woman leaned over the counter, her warm smile lighting up her weathered face.

Jaina turned her head sharply, blinking herself out of her musings, "No thank you. I could go for something sweeter."

The barkeep's smile widened, "I've got the best cherry pie ye'll ever taste sittin' in the kitchen."

"That sounds lovely," Jaina replied, offering a small smile of her own.

"One piece, comin' right up,"

When the pie arrived, its aroma wafting through the air, Jaina allowed herself a moment of indulgence, taking a slowed bite. The tart sweetness and buttery crust were practically divine, grounding her amidst her swirling thoughts as they reminded her what she was working for. By the time she'd finished, the adventurers she was waiting for had entered the inn.

The group consisted of five; A human warrior clad in a polished plate set accompanied by a human hunter with a huge boar by his side, his dirtied mail armor and fur-lined boots bearing the marks of travel. A youthful priest, also human, wore a battle robe adorned with subtle holy symbols, while a gnome wizard bustled alongside, his robes trimmed with intricate runes of power and regulation. Finally, a lithe night elven ranger brought up the rear, her violet-tinted eyes scanning the room with calm vigilance constantly.

The man in the plate set stepped forward and inclined his head respectfully, "Robyn Tropp at your service, Lady Jaina" he stated, his voice steady and formal. Gesturing to his companions, he introduced them one by one. "This is Annie," he continued, nodding to the hunter, "Leeroy," to the priest, "Nisle," indicating the gnome wizard, "and Ethil," to the night elven ranger, who remained silent but observant.

Jaina studied them carefully, her gaze piercing but polite. "It is a pleasure to meet you all," she replied, a veil of secrecy swirling around her words as she subtly cast a privacy enchantment to shield the conversation from possible prying ears. As Robyn sat down at her table, the rest of the group flanked him, forming a loose arc around him their leader, each one maintaining a watchful stance, ready for whatever came next, whatever it would be.

Robyn wasted no time, his eyes sharp with businesslike efficiency. "Let's get to the point. What is the job and how much are we getting paid?" he asked, his voice direct and to the point. In a short time, his team had established themselves as a competent and effective team. They no longer had to accept just any job tossed at them - only the ones worth their time. While Jaina's name carried weight, Robyn made it clear that even the legendary mage needed to offer fair compensation if she wanted them to take the task, which she respected.

Jaina's eyes narrowed slightly, her face serene but calculating. She responded with the same no-nonsense approach. "I need you to travel to the Blackrock depths and gather any information you can about a man called Reginald Windsor and what he discovered. It is paramount that you enter through the Searing Gorge at all costs. You are to avoid engaging with the Black Dragons or the Dark Horde. The base pay is fifty gold, but the sum can be increased up to five hundred gold depending on what you manage to uncover. Are these terms acceptable?"

Robyn's brows furrowed slightly, considering her offer, before he raised an eyebrow. "Mind explaining why we should avoid killing the orcs? I understand we shouldn't provoke the dragons and get eaten, but why spare the orc scum?" His tone remained blunt, as though he was accustomed to questioning the reasoning behind the tasks he was given.

Jaina's eyes hardened at his words, but she maintained her composure. "They have united under a very powerful entity called Ainz Ooal Gown-"

At the mention of the name, Annie, the boar-riding hunter, shook her head vigorously. "Oh! We're not messing with those guys then," she declared with a firm, almost incredulous tone. "We know what he and his wife can do."

Jaina was taken aback by the reaction. "So you have heard of them?" she inquired, surprised.

"We met them a short while ago in Northshire," Robyn explained, his voice steady. "Pleasant enough people, but I would not mess with them." Annie's pig gave an approving oink, as if echoing her sentiment.

Jaina's eyes softened slightly as she considered their words. It seemed they weren't unaware of the dangerous duo that was Ainz and his wife. A small, satisfied smile played at the corner of her lips as she nodded. "Hmm, then it might work in your favor if you are caught. Is the assignment clear?"

"Yes," Robyn answered, his tone now more serious. "But we want twenty gold upfront. Getting into Blackrock Depths won't be easy and getting out might be even harder." His request wasn't unexpected. A team of their caliber would never venture into such a perilous location without securing a portion of the payment in advance, especially when dealing with a task as hazardous as this one. Partially for pay in case the request failed, partially to purchase supplies and such beforehand, as most parties didn't carry the necessary equipment to fight against endless hordes with them at all times - only the strongest did

Without hesitation, Jaina reached into her money pouch and produced the gold, dropping the coins onto the table in front of Robyn. She didn't even flinch at the amount; gaining a favorable impression from this team was paramount. She could use them as a connection should she choose to approach Ainz Ooal Gown personally if all things went right.

Robyn took the coins with a quick nod, satisfied with the arrangement. He didn't waste time, gesturing for his team to gather their things. They knew better than to linger too long after striking a deal, they had things to do and trust to maintain. With their payment secured, the adventurers were quick to make their exit, each one offering a polite nod or a brief word of thanks as they left the inn.

Jaina watched them go, her expression unreadable. Once they were out of sight, she allowed herself a moment of quiet contemplation. Her dessert, now finished, was but a small distraction in the grander scheme of things. The wine was still rich and smooth, its familiar taste a comfort as she took another sip, but a sturdy foundation could only get you so far when fighting beings whose powers could bathe the skies with magic.

For now, all she could do was wait and hope for the best of her request. The adventurers would return with their findings… or they wouldn't, depending on the danger they encountered. Either way, Jaina had a long road ahead, and she knew that uncovering the truth behind the conspiracy plaguing Stormwind would take time. The mysterious events tied to Ainz Ooal Gown and his growing influence in the region were just the tip of the iceberg; she could sense the depths she would have to plunge into.

As the last of the adventurers vanished from view, Jaina leaned back in her chair, her mind already working on the next step as the waitress took away her plate. She wasn't one to wait passively for information to come to her. She would take control of the situation, slowly but surely.

Editing by NabeisWaifu and aidan_lo.

Proofreading by fvvck, IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, and aidan_lo.

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