"CLOSE THE NET!"
Those two words, bellowed across the Golden Plains, didn't just mark the beginning of a counterattack; they heralded the start of the Burning Legion's worst, most soul-crushing day.
In the perpetually parched, waterless ridges of the northwestern Golden Plains, the Harpy Queen, a creature usually preoccupied with shiny baubles and territorial squabbles, watched with wide-eyed awe as the starport in the valley's center began to throb with an ominous, crimson light. Instantly, she shrieked commands to her squawking kin. In the next moment, swarms of harpies—their feathers a dizzying kaleidoscope of green and blue—screamed into the skies, snapping into their defensive formations.
"What a magnificent creation!" the Harpy Queen squawked, nearly falling off her perch in amazement, gazing at the ten colossal metal vessels beginning to stir. As one of the few truly native flying races of Azeroth, she was utterly awestruck. Never mind the demons, these were the real show!
"Crusader First Cosmic Fleet, immediate launch! Proceed to designated combat zones as planned! And try not to hit any of the good birds!" Aegwynn's voice, sharp as a freshly honed blade, cut through the arcane comms network, activating the starships that had been meticulously hidden here all along, gathering dust and impatience.
"Orders received! First Fleet reporting in, ready to kick some demonic tail!" "Battleship One, ready to rumble!" "Battleship Two, primed for chaos!" ... "Battleship Ten, itching for a fight!"
Amid the cacophony of confirmations, a particularly excitable gnome engineer at the starport let out a sharp, ear-splitting cry and slammed a massive, glowing red button on the control panel with enough force to crack it.
"LAUNCH! FOR SCIENCE! AND EXPLOSIONS!"
BOOM!
One by one, the massive starships on the ten launch platforms roared to life, igniting their anti-gravity engines with a terrifying hum and slowly, majestically ascending. Unlike the sleek, crystalline vessels of the Draenei like the Genedar and Vindicaar, these ships deliberately mimicked the brutal, utilitarian form of the Burning Legion's own steel warships. But where the Legion's fleet exuded a cold, brutal fel aesthetic, the Crusader First Cosmic Fleet bore the ancient, imposing, almost stubborn style of Titan-forged constructs. They looked like something forged by angry, perfectionist gods who really hated demons.
"Set course! Battleships One through Five to Azshara—go make a mess! Six through Ten to Crusader Fortress—protect our turf!" "Charge! And remember to wipe your feet!" "Let's teach these demons a lesson in manners!" "Hah! Remember to activate energy shields and for the love of all that is holy, buckle up! I don't want to explain why I lost a gunner!"
The captains of the battleships were practically vibrating with exhilaration, pushing their speed levers to the absolute limit. With engines roaring at full, glorious thrust, the ten ships split into two screaming groups and vanished into the sky above the waterless ridges, leaving trails of superheated air and thoroughly confused harpies.
The Sky Battle Begins
From Galen's vantage point, a fierce, almost physical gale howled from the northwest. Soon, five battleships streaked across the sky above him like vengeful, metallic meteors, leaving trails of pure energy.
"Zzzzt—"
The two Fel Lords on the ground, still trying to figure out where Gandalf had gone, barely registered the strange, lightning-like hum before five searing, electric-blue energy blasts erupted from the ships' prows, screaming toward the Legion's bewildered fleet.
The high-voltage energy waves struck the outermost five escort ships before the demons could even finish their confused grunts. The fel shields, designed to withstand cosmic fury, shattered like paper on contact, and the vessels erupted in blinding, apocalyptic light. In the ensuing explosions, the escorts lost all lift, trailing thick, acrid smoke as they plummeted to the ground, leaving massive craters and very unhappy former occupants.
"Damn it! Since when did these insects possess such powerful ships?! Did they find a cheat code?!" "Gain altitude! Now! NOW, YOU IMBECILES! BEFORE WE BECOME SCRAP METAL!"
The remaining demonic commanders panicked, shrieking orders for their ships to ascend like desperate, overgrown mosquitoes while futilely training their prows toward the five Human battleships. Unfazed, the Crusader vessels simply charged their energy cannons again. This time, only two more escorts were hit—the demons, surprisingly, had learned to dodge. Barely.
Rather than continuing with long-range potshots, the battleships activated full-power shields, glowing with defiant energy, and closed the distance, like a very angry fist.
"Zap! Zap! Zap! BRRRRT!"
A barrage of smaller laser cannons fired relentlessly, cutting swathes through the demonic formations. The demonic fleet, spitting and snarling, retaliated with their own chaotic fel artillery, filling the sky with a dazzling, dangerous light show. Though the Legion had numerical superiority, they had drained much of their energy teleporting ground forces, leaving their shields sputtering. Meanwhile, the Crusader battleships were at full strength, their shields humming with robust, defiant energy.
Soon, the first demonic ship fell, exploding in a shower of green fire. Then the second. The third...
The battle turned the skies of the Golden Plains into a swirling, chaotic maelstrom of explosions, screeching metal, and demonic screams. Burning debris rained down like fiery meteors, scarring the once-thriving lands Galen had so painstakingly nurtured. He winced. Property damage.
By the time the smoke cleared, only the five Crusader battleships remained aloft, looking surprisingly smug amidst the wreckage.
The first large-scale aerial battle in Azeroth's history had ended—a resounding, glorious victory destined for the annals of legend (and probably a few very dramatic ballads).
Aftermath & Accounting
"Combat concluded. All ships, report status! And try not to sound too smug about it!" "Celestial One, hull intact! Shields at 30%! Two demonic ships destroyed! And we didn't even break a sweat!" The gnomish captain's voice practically vibrated with unrestrained excitement. "Celestial Two, hull intact! Shields at 5%! Three demonic ships destroyed! Beat that, One!" This captain sounded even more ridiculously triumphant. "Celestial Three, propulsion damaged! Shields depleted! Two demonic ships destroyed! Damn you, One and Two, for hiding behind me the whole time!" This one definitely didn't sound like a gnome. Probably a very annoyed human. "Celestial Four, propulsion functional! Main cannon damaged! But it was a glorious shot!" Silence followed. Then, Galen heard it. "Celestial Five! Celestial Five, respond! Are you alive out there?!" "Zzzzt—zzzt—!"
Static. Comms were likely fried. Or the captain was just milking the drama.
Despite the damage, none had been lost—a minor miracle, and very good news for the accountants. As Galen watched the five battleships return to the northwestern starport, his expression darkened at the sight of the ugly, fel-green fires still scorching his carefully cultivated lands.
The Burning Legion truly is a cosmic plague. And a very expensive one.
Just then, Aegwynn blinked into existence beside him, making him jump slightly. "Grand Marshal! Varian and Gadgetzan have sent distress calls! They sound… rather urgent!"
Stormwind and the Tanaris Desert? Galen scoffed, crossing his arms. "When I offered fleet support earlier, Varian, in his infinite kingly wisdom, gracefully refused. If his pride's made him reckless, let him learn the hard way. Maybe next time he'll listen to reason, or at least to someone who knows how to fight a space war."
As for Gadgetzan... Galen's eyebrow twitched. "The Steamwheedle Cartel insisted on neutrality, unlike those surprisingly sensible Bilgewater Cartel goblins, who actually joined the Azerothian Alliance. Did they really think their glorified militia could stand against the Legion's vanguard? Bless their greedy little hearts."
"Dispatch the Throne of Heroes to reinforce Stormwind," Galen ordered after a moment, a rare deployment of his long-held elite force. "And tell them to send Varian a bill for the collateral damage."
"As for Gadgetzan..." Galen paused, a wicked smirk spreading across his face. "Tell those stubborn little 'entrepreneurs' that Alliance naval support costs a flat 10,000 gold per ship. An aerial battleship? That'll be one million a pop. And if they want a full-blown battleship cruiser... tell them it's ten million per vessel, minimum. Cash up front, no refunds, and I'll send the bill collector if they complain."
Aegwynn grinned, a truly terrifying sight. "Oh, I'll handle the negotiations myself, Grand Marshal. If only to savor the Trade Prince's pained, sputtering expression."