Emerging from the smoking pile of debris, our brotherhood of the Horde ride unabashed into the next Ulduar courtyard. From this vantage point, the massive size of the complex becomes far more apparent. From the west, the molten sting of sulfuric air assaults my nostrils… two fire golems guarding whatever fiery hell awaits our guild. To the North, the unmistakable sound of scrap bots hard at work echoing down a vast hall. My eyes narrow to pull focus on the mechanical silhouettes against the bright glare of welding torches, then grow wider at the first glimpse of the steel giant that stirs in the furthest lengths of my vision. Tales of Deconstructor had not passed through our group unnoted. The feeling of inevitability drapes over me like a shroud. But as the whir of the bots fade into white noise, a far more menacing sound emerges from the East. Large… fiery… wings.
We came upon a group of Dwarves in a state of controlled panic… four turrets sitting conspicuously off kilter at the stair landing. Their plan of attack was unspoken but clear, as was the reason they hesitated. Tools of construction were at the ready on their belts, tools of destruction, however, were not in their possession. Not yet, anyway. My mouth smirked as my eyes scanned from Whippet, to Kwaggmire, to Pinko, to Pothek. "If destruction is what they seek," I thought to myself "this arsenal will gladly deliver."
Instinct had pushed me and my companions to a spot between the Dwarves and the stalking menace in the sky… eyes fixed on the target, the other senses inspected the scene around us. Weapons were drawn, mouths were salivating… and we waited. While confidence had made us bold, conquest had made us calculated… and rightfully so. Elissis, a soft spoken blood elf priest, moves among our hardened group of fighters as our gentle voice of reason. “Let’s get some buffs.” she said plainly as if it were a personal request spoken directly to each one of us. The immediate casting of buffs that followed from the raid very quickly exposed her request as an order, to those who were watching. My gift of the wild had already been given, so I cast thorns on Tazanian… because I know it amuses him. The Dwarves grow anxious with each passing moment, but we continue to wait… patiently and at the ready… for the one who leads us.
Akulu arrives to our group as most rogues of his caliber do… largely undetected. No sooner do I find him at the front of our ranks than do I hear him talking of razorscale and what terrors he brings. I’m growing wise enough not to bother wondering where this rogue gains his knowledge of such things, so instead I turn an ear and listen. Each thundering flap of wings pumps adrenaline through my bark as our guild leader lays out his plan. I take a moment to marvel at the grace of our new found enemy, and just as I wonder if this dragon willingly wears her heavy armor, I hear the Dwarves spring to action repairing those harpoons. It begins!
Dwarven mole machines bore through the floor. I pull focus on Saraella as she races in to meet them. How they fit the heart of a giant in this little paladin I will never know. One mob, now two, take swings at our tanks. I position myself near the center of the circle and cast rejuvenation on Sara and Taz. My spells tick once, maybe twice before Elissis and Alitharina heal those targets up completely. An ounce of relief creeps in as I scan the raid once finding no targets to heal.
"Can it be this easy?" Glancing up at Razorscale I catch a glimpse of a blue fireball just before its wrath takes a big chunk of my health, as well as my confidence. "Self heal, Beck!" I mutter, scolding myself. "Focus!" Another fireball rains from the sky over my companions… and then another. More adds arrive, assaulting Sara. Luhan and Sunmor mobilize to heal up the damage left by those flaming projectiles. I renew my HoTs on the two tanks in my range and begin to blanket the raid as I notice fire breath scorching the ground around us. Blue flame appears a moment later scorching… me! “Move!” barks Akulu, “Get out of the fire.” There's no need to tell this timber to run from the flame. My roots are already scrambling. Ali turns in my direction long enough to cast a quick heal. "Did she just wink at me?" I blush. Bloogan shouts, “The turrets are up!” almost too excitedly. A moment passes as if Akulu questions whether this course of action is just. His answer follows a moment later with just one word. “Fire.”
As Razorscale is forced to the earth, she receives our full attention. Taz stands eye to eye with the plated proto-drake, taunting her into giving him her best shot. Melee charges in, singeing their eyebrows for a moment as they come in contact with the remains of the fire breath she landed in, but quickly reposition themselves for what can best be described as a frenzied assault. Imphyy leads a ranged attack that lights up the sky with a fire show the likes of which I’m certain our Dwarf onlookers have never seen. I take a moment, with the other healers, to top off our group, then turn and roll my HoTs on our main tank just to make myself look busy. Temptation gets the better of me, as the voice in the back of my mind begins to chant "Moonfire. Wrath. Starfire. Hurricane." I give dps my best shot then unwittingly take a step back as Razorscale takes a deep breath in. "There's no way she…"
Before I finish my thought, a chained Razorscale springs to the air in one mighty leap, the results of which pulling the newly repaired turrets off of their bases. Our raid group is temporarily hurled into the sky by the force of air sent down by her mighty wings. Instinct has me back in Tree of Life form casting wild growth on the nearest tank before any of us fall back to the ground. More mole machines appear, Razorscale vengefully hurls more fireballs in our direction, the dwarves hurry again to repair their harpoons, and the fight continues much like it had before we brought her down to earth. She’s hurt and she’s angry, and if we’re going to live to see the sun set on this day, we’re going to have to pull her down to us once again.
Chaos now reigns in this corner of Ulduar. Fire riddles the ground claiming some of our numbers. Heavy heals prevent whirl winds and chain lightnings from claiming more souls, but the turrets are up, and a much angrier version of our foe is about to reek havoc on this fray.
With no time to destroy the dwarves attacking our main tank, Taz turns his back and resumes his staring match with Razorscale, again eye to eye, this time with adds in tow. Every spell in my arsenal is being utilized now. There are merely moments, not seconds, for me to cast out lifeblooms and wildgrowths between regrowths and nourishes. Razorscale is grounded for good, and is being led by Taz around the room, but the heat from her breath is beginning to fuse his armor. Ome has picked a fight with all the adds now and is keeping them occupied. Sara has positioned herself and is trying to rip Razorscales attention from Taz. The rest of us stand in the middle of this battle field doing our jobs, witnessing this proud beast rage.
Silence comes, at a cost. Those of us left standing quietly sift through the carnage left behind by this battle. Healers revive those comrades who were taken to the brink by Razorscale. The dwarven mechanics stare satisfactorily at their war machines as our proud group makes the way back up the stairs we descended from. Akulu stays behind for a moment, offering a pensive “Job well done.” to his faithful followers.
Back in the Ulduar courtyard, the once thunderous flap of proud wings is replaced by deafening silence. As I bow my head in honor of our fallen foe, a small smile crosses my face. The corner of my eye has caught the silhouette of a scrap bot hard at work. I turn my head to the North, now searching for the mechanical giant that waits at the end of this hall. “Craft away my friends,” I whisper to myself “those are the tools we plan to build our legacy with.”