Pawns

"Come before me mortal, and tremble! Know that you gaze upon the face of Order, and to do so is to risk going mad!"

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Such confidence fits your mortal! Now speak!"

Jaina sighed. There seemed to be a universal constant in the multiverse that power led to arrogance, and how that arrogance led to one speaking like a twat. Archimonde had been arrogant at Mount Hyjal. Garrosh, reprobate as he was, had been arrogant right up until the end. And now, in the Nexus, Lord Order was being every bit as arrogant as the self-proclaimed god of the world supposedly had a right to be. It was at times like this that she'd prefer to give the Raven Lord tribute – least he didn't yammer on about it.

"You are silent! Speak!"

"Right," Jaina said, rubbing her forehead as she felt a headache come on. "Speak."

She glanced out over the battlefield, where Lord Order's minions were doing battle because…reasons. Reasons, if they existed, only he knew of.

"Listen," the mage began. "I know you're into endless battles and all that, but I can't help but notice that something's…different."

Screams echoed from the battlefield.

"I mean, yeah, you still call them pawns. But the fact remains that unlike your earlier pawns, these ones are…"

An echoing voice of "first blood" rang out.

"…well, alive."

And Jaina kept looking. The pawns looked human, and as far as she'd known until recently, were humans. Like conflict, the existence of humanity seemed to be a universal constant in the multiverse, given how many of them had come to the Nexus, and were found in the Nexus itself. These beings from the Rift looked human, and given how willing they were to do battle, acted human as well.

"Surely mortal you jest!" Lord Order exclaimed, even as the fight continued. "These creatures are but pawns!"

"Well, yeah, that's what they're called but…" Jaina trailed off as she watched a grave golem tear a pawn limb from limb. "The old pawn minions you used to use were made of stone. These ones are made of flesh…" She watched as the pawn's corpse hit the ground. "And blood."

I'm gonna throw up.

"But still unintelligent," the god of the Nexus pointed out. "Tools to be used by the beings of Creation. They lack will of their own, or any sense of self."

"One might say the same of animals," Jaina murmured, swallowing her bile. "Doesn't mean we use them for sport."

She turned away, saving her dignity. It was another battle, she told herself. She'd fought, she'd killed, she'd died, she'd come back to life. And she'd done most of the same in Azeroth. She'd seen people die in the Third War. She'd seen people die in the conflicts following it. Theramore, Outland, Northrend, Pandaria, Outland again…And now, she had the chance to stop it. To convince Lord Order to return to the use of pawns that most definitely did not feel pain. To alleviate the suffering of the Nexus even a little.

Lord Order laughed. "Such humour!" he exclaimed. "Oh mercy, mortal."

"My name's Jaina," she said.

"And that is irrelevant," Lord Order declared. "You are mortal, kept alive by my will. You battle, as per my will. These pawns act as fodder in battle, as per my will. And it is by my will that this conversation end."

"But-"

"Begone!" the lord declared, energy emanating from his hands, his blue eyes blazing with icy light. Not unlike Arthas's, the mage thought to herself. "Leave my sight, lest you invoke my wrath."

"I've seen your wrath," Jaina murmured. "And seen enough."

So she turned to leave. Her hearthstone would take her back to the Hall of Storms – at least then she could get a reprieve. Yet she hesitated. She watched as the pawns fought. As they died. As more were summoned from the Rift to repeat the process over and over.

She kept watching. Right until the end.

She owed them that much.