After Gul’dan replaced Ner’Zhul—his mentor—as the new servant of the Burning Legion, Gul’dan convinced many of the orcish tribes to embrace the warlock bloodlust. The Burning Legion requested a purification of their land. The bloodlust granted great muscular might and an inner-rage for killing and destroying anything in their path.
During the orcish rampage of Draenor, many Draenei were killed, while others were dishonored by the brutal orcish soldiers, and Garona was the product of one such coupling. At the end of the war, Garona and those like her were all that remained of the Draenei. A small number of Draenei survived the onslaught, using a recessive cloaking ability—which saved them from extinction. Having travelled well in all of Draenor, Garona was well-versed in the culture of both the Draenei and Orcs, making her an invaluable asset to the Shadow Council, and she was inducted into the warlock-controlled Stormreaver Clan. She quickly became the Chief Interpreter of the Shadow Council, and Gul’dan’s personal spy and assassin. Due to her mixed blood, however, she was eternally an outcast, and had to rely upon her wits to keep her alive in the harsh world. Upon arriving in Azeroth, Garona’s experience lent a great deal to her insight with their newest foe – the humans.
She was part of a war party which attacked Medivh, and the Magus killed all of them, except her. Garona was sent back to Gul’dan with a message for him, and the warlock returned her to Medivh, to act as a spy on the orc’s behalf.
She acted as an emissary of the Horde to him, and assisted the mage in understanding the orcs. It was in Karazhan that she met Khadgar, Medivh’s apprentice sent to spy on him from Dalaran by the Kirin Tor. Khadgar was, at first, furious at her presence, but the Magus demanded Khadgar’s respect. Over time, a begrudging trust was forged between the two. Garona and Khadgar continually rebuked the other’s race, and defended their own from assault. They learned from each other, and soon began to suspect that Medivh was keeping secrets from both of them.
Together, they eventually discovered that Medivh was, in fact, the man who had brought the orcs into Azeroth, and uncovered his plans of murder and deceit, and that he was truly Sargeras, the fallen Titan.
They fled to Stormwind, where Garona met Llane and Lothar, who accepted her despite her orcish heritage. They then gathered a small war party and raided Karazhan. After searching about the tower, they found Medivh, who unleashed all the powers of Tirisfal and Sargeras combined against them. When Garona tried to attack him, he sent a numbing psionic blast into her mind. In the ensuing battle, she disappeared as Medivh was killed.
In the months that followed, Garona became a trusted confidante to King Llane. She reported to him the inner workings of the Horde and how he could use it to his advantage. But, she was still ultimately working for the Stormreaver, and was sent on a mission to kill Llane. With a heavy heart, she carved out his. But Gul’dan was in a coma after Medivh’s death.
Immediately, Doomhammer used the situation to his advantage, killing Blackhand. His spies found Garona, and tortured her, almost to death, until she finally revealed the secret location of the Shadow Council. The Council was destroyed, and the Warlocks slain.
Garona’s fate hereafter is uncertain. She is pressumed dead.
NOTE: However, Garona was seen in Ravenhold Manor, the guild of assassins, during World of Warcraft closed beta with the title of Grand Master of the Assassin’s Guild—which suggests that Garona survived Doomhammer’s wrath. The NPC was removed later on. She is possibly reserved for a special storyline in a future content patch.
The Draenei are one of the three primary races native to Draenor (the others being the Orcs and the Ogres). The Draenei once populated the planet heavily, but were slaughtered by the Orcs shortly after their corruption by the Warlock Gul’dan. The Draenei were formerly very human-looking, with greenish skin. After the Dark Portal was destroyed, Draenor collapsed onto itself. What remains of Draenor are floating chunks of the planet’s debris and asteroids floating in the Twisting Nether. This zone of floating asteroids in space is known as Outland. The irradiation of the collapsing energies of the Dark Portal seem to have mutated the Draenei that survived. Their almost human-like features forever changed.
They were thought to be extinct, but Illidan and his forces discovered and liberated one of the last surviving Draenei villages. They are known for being great spies and assassins as their warriors can Shadowmeld at all times of day, even while moving. They are currently ruled by Akama, the Elder Sage, and are allied with Illidan’s Naga and Blood Elves. The Draenei are consumed by an unquenchable bloodlust whenever they know Orcs are near.
A few Draenei were led through the portal by a few unknown leaders with the hopes of finding a new life, and have settled in The Swamp of Sorrows. Unfortunately, most of them were driven mad due to homesickness, and attack all on sight. There are a few, led by Magtoor, that remember their noble roots and survive on in the swamp seperate of their mad brothers. The mad Draenei are called “The Lost Ones” in memory of their old homeworld.
After you kill one of the four corrupted Green dragons, you loot an object shrouded in nightmare named Malfurion’s Signet Ring. A quest starts to go to the Moonglades. You bring your finding to Remulos—son of Cenarius—at the Moonglades and suddenly, Malfurion’s dream form appears before Remulos.
Keeper Remulos: “Malfurion!”
Malfurion: “Remulos, old friend. It is good to see you once more. I knew that the message would find its way to you – one way or another.”
Keeper Remulos: “It was shrouded in nightmares, Malfurion. What is happening in the Dream? What could cause such atrocities?”
Malfurion: “I fear for the worst, old friend. WIthin th Dream we fight a new foe, a born of an ancient evil. Ysera’s noble brood has fallen victim to the old whisperings. It seems as if the Nightmare has broken through the realm and seeks a new host on Azeroth.”
Keeper Remulos: “I sensed as much, Malfurion. Dark days loom ahead.”
Malfurion: “Aye, Remulos. Prepare the mortal races.”
Keeper Remulos: “You have been gone too long, Malfurion. Peace between the children of Azeroth is tenuous at best. What of my father? Of your brother? Have you any news?”
Malfurion: “Cenarius fights at my side. Illidan sits atop his throne in the Outland – brooding. I am afraid that the loss to Arthas proved to be his breaking point. Madness has embraced him, Remulos. He replays the events in his mind a thousand times per day, but in his mind, he is the victor and Arthas is utterly defeated. He is too far gone, old friend. I fear that the time may soon come that our bond is tested and it will not be as it was at the Well in Zin-Azshari.”
Keeper Remulos: “Remulos, I am being drawn back … Tyrande … send her my love … Tell her I am safe. Tell her … Tell her I will return … Farewell …”
Keeper Remulos: “Farewell, old friend … Farewell … Let us return to the grove, mortal.”
Objectives: Travel to the continent of Teldrassil and find Malfurion’s agent somewhere outside the walls of Darnassus.
Game Description: Malfurion: “This is a journey of redemption, hero. Would it be that I was slain today, I would have died for a just and righteous cause. You must recover the green scepter shard. You must cleanse Eranikus of the taint placed upon him by the Old Gods. Travel to Darnassus. Just outside the city walls you will find one of my agents. This agent will set things in motion for us and inform Tyrande of our plans without alerting Staghelm. (Malfurion sighs.) A fall from grace a thousand years in the making…”
Quest: Eranikus, Tyrant of the Dream
Travel to the continent of Teldrassil and find Malfurion’s agent somewhere outside the walls of Darnassus.
Malfurion: “This is a journey of redemption, hero. Would it be that I was slain today, I would have died for a just and righteous cause. You must recover the green scepter shard. You must cleanse Eranikus of the taint placed upon him by the Old Gods.
Travel to Darnassus. Just outside the city walls you will find one of my agents. This agent will set things in motion for us and inform Tyrande of our plans without alerting Staghelm.
A fall from grace a thousand years in the making…”
Geologist Laksbane: “It is history … A history of Silithus … of Ahn’Quiraj … of Titans and Old Gods … I read from the prophecy of C’Thun as written by the Qiraji Prophet Skerran. A prophecy that portends a cataclysm …
In the time before time, when the world was still in its infancy, a battle between a Titan and a being of unimaginable evil and power raged on this very soil. The prophecy is unclear about whether or not the Titan was vanquished in this battle but it illustrates that a Titan fell. An Old God had also fallen – or so it was thought.
The land of eternal starlight, Kalimdor, was a nurturing mother to all of its creatures. The magic of the Well of Eternity permeated the land and empowered the multitude of flora and fauna that would make the world their home. From this magical ether were born the silithid. It was through the silithid that the brooding Old god would reach and attempt to sunder the world that it once held in its unmerciful grasp.
The Old god would create avatars from the silithid in its own image. These avatars were to be known as Qiraji. Sentient and with purpose, the Qiraji would name their creator: C’thun was born … For many thousands of years the Qiraji worked feverishly to build a force capable of laying waste to the world that would betray their god. The great fortress city of Ahn’Qiraj was created to house their growing armies and prepare for the coming of C’Thun. This can’t be right. An Old god could never be allowed to enter this world. The results would be … Oh dear!
There is more. The moment that C’Thun had so patiently waited for had finally arrived. His children had spent thousands of years building an army capable of exacting revenge upon the whole of Kalimdor and now the prize was within their grasp.
The Titans had long since vacated this world. Only the night elves that once inhabited this area were here to defend. Oh my! The next passage is fascinating! A mighty Qiraji known as General Rajaxx would command the initial incursion into Silithus. Only one would stand in his way: A night elf known as Staghelm. They refer to him as Khar’sis or “hand of the earth” in the native Qiraji tongue.
Staghelm and his armies were clearly overwhelmed as the endless flow of Rajaxx’s troops poured into Silithus. It would seem as if Staghelm, however, was more than just a nuisance to the Qiraji. Under Staghelm, the whole of the night elf armies had come together to defend Kalimdor, greatly slowing the Qiraji forces.
Unfortunately, the night elf defense was untenable and Rajaxx knew that they could not hold out much longer. Their tenacity, however, was causing great frustration to Rajaxx and causing even more frustration to his king. Wait, kings? Incredible…
Vek’nilash and Vek’lor, known as the Twin Emperors of Ahn’Qiraj, watched the war from the sanctuary of their temple. The clever brothers devised a plan to demoralize and divide Staghelm’s forces. Valstann Staghelm served as the right hand of Fandral. A proud and noble warrior, his dedication and adoration for his father unyielding … and the Twin Emperors sensed this as weakness. A weakness that could be exploited.
The Qiraji forces were commanded to fall back and hide the bulk of their numbers beneath the sands of the desert. A small attack was ordered upon Southwind Village while the front lines of Staghelm’s army were kept occupied.
Valstann, eager to please his father, convinced Fandral to allow him to take a small batallion to the defense of Southwind. Surely with the tide of battle turning their way, no harm could come to his beloved child. The trap was missed. Valstann was captured by the hiding Qiraji and Southwind Village obliterated. Rajaxx himself would take the captive Valstann to the front lines of the battle where – in front of Staghelm and the night elf forces – he would brutally execute the young night elf. The war continued but the will of the great leader was sapped. The whole of Silithus was soon engulfed by the silithid and their Qiraji hosts.
Poor man, this explains so much. The night elf army was pushed back through Un’Goro, to the borders of the Tanaris desert. something in Un’Goro prevented the Qiraji from being able to take the land. I do not quite understand this word but I believe it to mean ‘God Lands’. It is stated that they could not ‘take the God Lands’.
Fascinating, this coincides with theories of Un’Goro being the home of the Titans when they inhabited Kalimdor. Perhaps Aman’Thul himself watched over ‘The God Lands’. Hrm, curious … This ends abruptly. In Tanaris the Qiraji document facing a bronze dragon. There is much missing from this … More information must be found! Surely they are planning to invade Kalimdor once more!”
(( Baristolth of the Shifting Sands shifts uncomfortably. ))
Baristolth of the Shifting Sands: “When the time is right, my lady. All will be clear when the time is right. The master stirs even now. Look to the skies for the Brood of Nozdormu have returned.
Madam Eva: “Last night a horrible disturbance rippled through my veins. I sensed that my granddaughter, Alyssa, was in great danger. I consulted the cards and Death stared up at me from the table. After taking a long journey through a dark trance I was able to uncover a clue to this terrifying mystery. A name came to me, the name of Stalvan.
Seek out the Clerk in the Town Hall and see if you can find out more about this character. I fear for us all.”
Clerk Daltry: “Stalvan, eh? Let me check the town registry.
Stalvan. . .Stalvan. . .let’s see. Ah, here we go! I have a record of a Mr. Stalvan Mistmantle. The last recorded address is the Moonbrook Schoolhouse. My, talk about outdated! Do me a favor will you, friend? If you happen to go out to Moonbrook, let me know if you get any update on this fellow. I like to keep the records clean.”
A Dusty Unsent Letter
To the Honorable Headmaster Crillian:
My former Master, I write to you so that you might know what your apprentice has been doing of late paying heed to your advice. I sought to build my knoweldge and wisdom through travel outside the Gates of our beloved Stormwind. My journeys took me to take up residence ere in the lovely lown of Moonbrook. The Surrounding fields of Westfall are most beautiful as the harvest approaches.
Within just a few days of my visit I found myself tutoring the local children from the nearby farmlands. The lessons went so well that the town mayor commissioned me to run a school and construction has begun on a brand new schoolhouse! From Silverpine to Stormwind and now Moonbrook—who would have guessed I would see so much of Azeroth!
Talking later to Clerk Daltry—Darkshire’s Registry—he says that Stalvan Mismantle was heading to The Lion’s Pride Inn in Goldshire.
Clerk Daltry: “Oh my! Must have missed this the first time. In the registry, right beneath the first address for Stalvan there’s another one listed, only partially scratched out. Looks like he was headed to The Lion’s Pride Inn over in Goldshire. Might want to check there”
Innkepper Farley: “The name Stalvan rings a bell. I remember now.
Many years back, on a stormy night, a messenger came in, seeking refuge for the night. Near the stroke of midnight, the man ran down the stairs screaming, his face pale with fear. Still wearing his bedclothes, he disappeared into the downpour.
In his haste he forgot his letters in the chest upstairs. He never returned for them. One remains from that Stalvan fellow, intended for the Canal District in Stormwind. Help yourself to it”
Dear Noble Sir,
Word of your need for a tutor for your children has traveled to me here in Goldshire. Where I take up temporary residence in the Lion’s Pride Inn. Due to the unfortunate state of events in the region, I was forced to abandon my post as Headmaster of the Moonbrook Schoolhouse. Please accept my application to serve as tutor for your offspring. Headmaster Crillian of the Academy can speak to you of my abilities if necessary. I shall travel to meet you in person when the winter rains subside and the roads are suitable for travel once again.
Stalvan Mistmantle of Silverpine
You deliver the unsent letter to who it was meant to be sent—Crillian Flintridge.
Caretaker Folsom: “My father was the caretaker of the estate long before I was. He had to mop the blood up after the massacre. But that’s neither here nor there. The last funds of the Flintridge trust have dried up. Now the last of the family possessions are headed for auction. Blame the tax vultures. I guess if you’re really itching to learn more you’re free to look through this junk. Who knows what you might find.”
Searching on the wooden crates and barrels’ interior in search of any belongins that may unravel the mystery behind Stalvan, you find a torn journal page.
A Torn Journal Page
Giles, the boy, seems a bit rambunctious and will be a challenge to educate. However, the elder daughter Tilloa, seems exceptionally smart. I couldn’t help but to notice her captivating beauty as well. She is on the cusp of womanhood now. Supposedly the Lord has arranged her marriage for next year. But I disgress. This week I will accompany the family to their summer cottage near the Eastvale Logging Camp in Elwynn, close to the Redridge Mountains. I hope to write more while there.
While at Eastvale Logging Camp you find Marshal Haggard
Marshall Haggard: “There was a bundle of parchments in the chest upstairs when I moved into this place. I looked at them once when I first arrived but I gave up once the fog hazed over my peepers. Do an old, nearly-blind man a favor and check the chest upstairs for anything that might help you in your quest to discover more about this Stalvan character. I’m pretty sure there’s a faded journal page that might be of interest to you. Bring it to me and I’ll help in anyway I can.”
A Faded Journal Page
Most strange and uncontrollable feeling. Never have I felt the way I did today. Whilst assisting Giles with his history lesson, Tilloa was outside tending to the flower garden. After a few minutes she came inside and placed a scarlet begonia in my open palm and smiled at me in such a way that my heart felt as though it was trembling within my chest …
Marshal Haggard: “I know of someone who might be able to assist you. Back when I was leading the Stormwind Guard, we used to get drinks at the Scarlet Raven Tavern in Darkshire. The Innkeeper there, Smitts, was quite an expert on the local lore. Show him this page and see what he has to say about it.”
Tavernkeep Smitts: “I followed the legend of that Stalvan character for years. When those visiting nobles were slaughtered a few years back I went with Haggard to investigate. I found these muddy pages but we were never able to link the handwriting to that crazy man in the woods. Your trail of evidence proves his guilt. Take this to Commander Ebonlocke immediately and fill her in on what you’ve discovered!”
Commander Althea Ebonlocke: “My, you have proved yourself to be a quite detective. I have had my eye on that creep. Stalvan, for quite sometime. But if this page was written by the same hand it proves his guilt beyond a shadow of a doubt. Stalvan Mistmantle led a life of depravity. Innocent victims died by his hand. Undoubtedly he is guilty of countless crimes. Now the lunatic threatens Darkshire. The Light only knows what sordid acts he is plotting. Travel to his cottage just north of town, Priest, and execute Stalvan, once and for all. When the deed is done, travel to Madame Eva’s and show her his family ring. After all, it was her premonition that led to this gruesome discovery. But Darkshire is safer because of her.”
Madame Eva: “Stalvan is dead. I sensed a wave of hope ripple through the tainted forest. Once and for all, Duskwood is free from his blood thirst. My joy is hampered by thoughts of those who fell prey to the horrible beast. Nonetheless, you are brave and cunning.”
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Stoutmantle—Some nerve sending a total stranger to discuss the Defias Gang. Once you saved my life and now you put it in great peril. But I owe you. The Defias Brotherhood is larger than you think. Every mine from Westfall to Elwynn Forest is under their control. Kobolds and Gnolls have been enlisted to do their dirty work. they have goblins crafting metal monsters to place in the Westfall fields to prey on the superstitions of the local residents.
They have a vast underground network built. Bigger than you know Stoutmantle. From Booty Bay right to Stormwind Keep. You may be a brave Paladin but you are a fool if you think you can shut them down. They are working on a weapon of mass destruction. After all, if there’s one thing Stonemasons know, it’s how to build big. You didn’t think this was about pumpkin farms and vineyards. Now did you? I repaid your favor. Now leave me be!
Gryan Stoutmantle: “I wonder what Wiley meant when he mentioned the Stonemasons. Perhaps that was a slip of tongue. Could the Defias gang be related to the Stonemasons? Only one man would know for sure: Mathias Shaw, head of SI:7 Show him Wiley’s Note and see if he has anything to add to this growing mystery. If you have trouble finding Shaw, check the Barracks in Old Town.”
Mathias Shaw: “This matter might be more complex than Stoutmantle realizes. The Stonemason’s Guild was run by a man named Edwin VanCleef. VanCleef was responsible for rebuilding Stormwind after the orcs razed it in the First War. Apparently, VanCleef and his men were unhappy with their treatment by the King after the reconstruction was complete. That just might explain a thing or two.
I have written a more detailed account for your Master in Westfall. Take this to him at once!”
Lord Stoutmantle, led by Edwin VanCleef, the Stonemason’s Guild was composed of the most skilled builders among men. The Stonemasons helped to rebuild the broken city of Stormwind that was razed by the orcs during the First War. VanCleef and his tradesmen were peerless builders and their work and artistry was evident in the edifices of the Cathedral of Light and Stormwind Keep itself. However, the nobles of Stormwind ran up a huge debt by expanding the kingdom’s military presence thorugh Elwynn and into Stranglethorn. The massive debt crippled the Kingdom’s economy and stripped VanCleef and his stonemasons of their promised rewards. After spending years toiling to rebuild the glorious city, the Stonemasons were left broke. Forgotten by the City’s corrupt officials.
Having personally known Edwin VanCleeff my entire life, I can tell you that facing him as a foe is quite a daunting task. You see, he was my childhood friend, and personally trained him in the ways of the shadows thinking that one day he might consider a career alongside me. If VanCleef is heading up the Defias Brotherhood, may the Light have mercy of our souls.
—Master Mathias Shaw
Stormwind Assassin’s Guild
Gryan Stoutmantle: “Edwin VanCleef … I know the name well. To think that a man so industrious and talented could turn into such a scoundrel unnerves me. I’ll need further proof before I believe this. We need to discover the location of the Defias hideout. My scout reports that a Defias messenger has been seen on the roads between Moonbrook, the Gold Coast Quarry and the Jangolode Mine. I want you to capture him. If he resists, kill him and bring me whatever he is carrying.”
“This is indeed firm proof that VanCleef is in charge. Now all we need to know is where the Defias gang is hiding out. We’ve had a stroke of luck while you were gone. We captured a thief trying to steal Saldean’s wagon. He has promised to lead us to the hideout in exchange for his life. I want you to defend the traitor so he can reveal the hideout. Return to me once you have uncovered the location.”
“There is but one task left for you to complete. Edwin VanCleef must be assassinated. While it saddens me to condemn any man to a death sentence, it is for the greater good of the people of Westfall that VanCleef is laid to rest once and for all. Bring me the villain’s head once the deed is done.”
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I started this journal so I could keep notes on my quest to help Ashenvale. There is a mystery to some of the events that occurred not too long ago. And hopefully I will be able to unravel some of it in order to help my people.
Let me start by putting down facts so they don’t slip my mind at a later date. I’ve recently found hruth to he rumors of the wizard Dartol’s efforts. Where once I thought it preposterous that a human would come to our lands and learn our ways, this wizard, his evil man, came here and not only survived, but also gained some of our knowledge. I’m still uncerain how …
I never discovered his goals during my investigation, but his plan seemed simple: using druidic magic. He wanted to befriend and then control the furbolg. If it was in an attempt to harm my kin, or for some other malicious purpose, I hope to find out before my path ends.
Regardless, he was apparently more successful than naught in actualizing his plans. Did he want to attempt his machinations on the Furbolg before trying on my people? Did the furbolg have something he coveted? Who knows?
Using an iem he created (a rod or staff of some kind) he atemped to infilrae he furbolg tribes of Ashenvale. At some point, and his is where many of the details are still unclear, he was discovered by the furbolg while trying to manipulate hem ino acting against one another. As I’m sure the elves would be, the furbolg were angered, but they reacted much more strongly and killed Dartol.
The furbolg, at least at this time, weren’t the same corrupted creatures they’ve become. They were stil rational and intelligent—their relationship with our people amicable.
I’m hoping that iff I can recreate the rod with the help of a dryad named Shael’dryn, I can use its power to help our people … and the furbolg. Not all the furbolg have been corrupted. Some still live and try to protect the forest. During their corruption, some of the furbolg fled. Many were killed and others were forced out of their tribes.
I found a venerable furbolg of the Foulweald Tribe living above Lake Mystral—his name is Krolg. I’ve watchewd him for days, and I think if I were to approach him in the guise of a furbolg, I could help him and discover a way to re-establish a bond between our people.
Along with killing Dartol, the furbolg split up the rod into three parts so it couldn’t be used against them again. It has been difficult, but I’ve a good idea where all three parts were placed.
The Gem: The first part of the rod, a glowing gem, was hidden in a shrine in Northwestern Ashenvale, I believe. Now this shrine is the ruins at the center of Lake Falathim. The Sentinels tell me that it’s been inhabited by Murlocs now.
If I can’t find the gem hidden in the shrine, it might be in the possession of one of the Murlocs.
The Shaft Portion: This part of the rod was given to the treants near what is now called Felwood. Neither the furbolg nor my kind could have suspected that such magnificent creatures could ever fall to the corruption that is overtaken the land.
My research tells me that the guardians kept the peice in a small glade locked within a hest. To find out any more, I’ll have to speak to Shael’dryn.
Shael’dryn is a dryad who protects the moonwell northeast of Lake Iris. She refuses to leave the forest or forsake it to the corruption. I know she has the power and knowledge to repair the rod, or to at least tell me how I can do it on my own.
The pommel: The pommel of the rod was given to the druids of Dor’danil. There is one major problem with this though. The druids are dead. Their spirits now inhabit the area and are no longer hospitable.
This may require more investigation. I’m not sure I’m powerful enough to fight the spirits of fmy dead kin … let alone delve into the depths of Dor’danil and find hte pommel.
NOTE: During my preparations in Astranaar, I’ve recently met a dwarf hunter who has spent a good portion of his time in Ashenvale trying to help my people. He came from a place called Stormwind. We spoke over a few ales one night, and his tales have given me new hope of finding the pommel.
He tells me he’s been throughout all of Dor’danil, and he’s never seen a chest or any container that may hold the pommel. He also tells me that rotting slimes have inhabited the area, and they devour almost anything smaller than them. He’s seen them eat tables, sculptures, bears and even gnomes!
The slimes seem to gain a great deal of sustenance from things magical. If the chest holding the pommel was enchanted at all, the slimes might have eaten it.
It’s a gamble, but I have no other cllues at this time … As I find out more, I’ll put the details here: but until then, I shall work on finding the parts of the rod and helping Ashenvale.
—part of the Quest Series: Raene’s Cleansing
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Sentinel Tysha Moonblade was sent by the Circle of Ancients to explore the ancient ruins of Darkshore.
“To the east you will find the ruins of Ameth’Aran. It is now inhabited by the restless spirits of the Highborne that once dwelt within its walls, but once it was a place where the servants of Azshara freely practiced their powerful magics. I was sent to explore the ruins and came across two large tablets, scrawled with the stories of Ameth’Aran and its fall. While I read the runes, I was accosted by the spirits, and fled.
Please, if you can, venture to the ruins and decipher the tablets in my place.”
We have few records from the time around the War of the Ancients, especially near the destruction of the Well of Eternity. Given the upheaval and cataclysmic events that were taking place, it is no big surprise. Thank you. With your help my work here is finished, and I will be able to deliver a full report to the Circle.
The Fall of Ameth’Aran
The earth trembled as the ancient trees in the enchanted forest were uprooted and toppled. The groves and glades tended by the sons and daughters of Cenarius and the stone towers of the children of the stars were brought to the rolling ground. There was our queen. Radiant even in the desperation. In the chaos that was the battles. The enchanted sky changed colors with the discharge of magic. With the explosions that threatened to tear the world asunder. Brother fought brother, Chosen fought blessed. It was not all the Highborne that fought . Some stood transfixed as the madness took them. Mighty cities and humble towns alike were felled around them. In Ameth’Aran, all was in ruins. Its people clinging to the ground as though that might spare them from the destruction. It was then that Athrikus Narassin, favored of Azshara appeared to guide them to safety. With a spell he could protect them. He would say. While around them, brother and sister, father and mother perished. They would have life eternal, and have naught to fear from the Sundering that was to come.
The earth trembled as the ancient trees in the enchanted forest were uprooted and toppled. The groves and glades tended by the sons and daughters of Cenarius and the stone towers of the children of the stars were brought to the rolling ground. There was our queen. Radiant even in the desperation. In the chaos that was the battles. The enchanted sky changed colors with the discharge of magic. With the explosions that threatened to tear the world asunder.
Brother fought brother, Chosen fought blessed. It was not all the Highborne that fought . Some stood transfixed as the madness took them. Mighty cities and humble towns alike were felled around them.
In Ameth’Aran, all was in ruins. Its people clinging to the ground as though that might spare them from the destruction. It was then that Athrikus Narassin, favored of Azshara appeared to guide them to safety.
With a spell he could protect them. He would say. While around them, brother and sister, father and mother perished. They would have life eternal, and have naught to fear from the Sundering that was to come.
The Lay of Ameth’Aran
Long had the children of the stars dwelled upon the banks of the shimmering waters of the Eternal Well. To all was known that Elune, light of the eternal twilight, aspect and goddess of the moon, dwelt within its waters at such time that she rested from her works. Upon the shores of the Well did the children of the stars, favored of Elune, build their homes even as their gaze was trained ever skyward, into the moonlit night. Though there were many towns and places of habitation constructed upon the lakeshore, Ameth’Aran and Bashal’Aran villages were the foremost. Having the touch of Azshara, the Kaldorei’s beloved Queen, in their creation. Her favored servitors, those of the Highborne, she brought to the twin towns to reside, and to govern them she placed Athrikus Narassin. Though it would be that he would spend most of his days in his Tower of Althalaxx, some ways removed of the towns. His second , a mage known of his prowess in the arcane arts as much as with his physical abilities was Asterion, who lived among the people of Bashal’Aran, and went many times to Ameth’Aran to see to the needs and wants of its people. And so it was upon the shores of the Well of Eternity, the twin towns grew and prospered, while the world beneath the stars fell slowly to madness.
Long had the children of the stars dwelled upon the banks of the shimmering waters of the Eternal Well. To all was known that Elune, light of the eternal twilight, aspect and goddess of the moon, dwelt within its waters at such time that she rested from her works. Upon the shores of the Well did the children of the stars, favored of Elune, build their homes even as their gaze was trained ever skyward, into the moonlit night.
Though there were many towns and places of habitation constructed upon the lakeshore, Ameth’Aran and Bashal’Aran villages were the foremost. Having the touch of Azshara, the Kaldorei’s beloved Queen, in their creation. Her favored servitors, those of the Highborne, she brought to the twin towns to reside, and to govern them she placed Athrikus Narassin. Though it would be that he would spend most of his days in his Tower of Althalaxx, some ways removed of the towns.
His second , a mage known of his prowess in the arcane arts as much as with his physical abilities was Asterion, who lived among the people of Bashal’Aran, and went many times to Ameth’Aran to see to the needs and wants of its people.
And so it was upon the shores of the Well of Eternity, the twin towns grew and prospered, while the world beneath the stars fell slowly to madness.
Thundris Windweaver from Auberdine(Darkshore) sends you to investigate. The ruins of Bashal’Aran to the east are overrun with demonic minions. The sprites and satyrs that have taken up residence in the area feed upon the magical energies of the area, their powers growing from continued exposure. Even with that, I have noticed that there is one shrine they will not approach. On the western side of the ruins, atop a small bluff, a strange blue aura permeates… There must be an explanation to the demons’ reluctance. I would like you to investigate it. Finding the strange blue aura, you find Asterion—second to the service of Athrikus Narassin—is found held prisoner within. “Ahh … to what could I possibly owe the exceedingly special honor of one such as yourself as company. Truly it says much of my current companions—- with the offense to my hosts, the noble grells and satyrs—that your presence could be considered an improvement. But please, do not let my uncivil tongue drive you from the place. It has indeed been many years, decades even, since I had civil accompaniment.” If I were to relate the story of my life, I have no doubt it would surpass the limits of your patience. Let us say that mine has been a long and painful life, and this spectral form is perhaps the worst torment of all.
I am held here by the means of magic. Though my words may seem disingenuous, I assure you I would be grateful beyond words if you would help me find the means of my imprisonment. A seal binds me, and by examining the earpieces of the sprites and grells, I may find a trace of it. Once I have the earrings, I will cast the spell to search for the whereabouts of the seal that binds me. For centuries I have thought on the freedom destroying the seal would bring to me … Perhaps those centuries have taken a toll upon my mind that I might never recover … Indeed … the grells of Bashal’Aran do not possess that which I am searching … however they have come into contact with it recently. Recently … I would reckon that by your time, not mine. Recent for me stretches into the veil of the past, almost another Age … If the grells have come into close contact with the seal that binds my eternal prison, I suspect I know the cause. No doubt the seal has come into the possession of the satyr that lead them. I feel strongly that this must be true. One of the satyr must surely possess it. If you can obtain it, you would bring me so close to passing the bars of my prison that tears would come to my eyes. Obtain the Ancient Moonstone Seal and bring it to Asterion in Bashal’Aran. The pillars of this shrine are as the bars of a prison to me. No strength I still possess might break them, and no magic I wield might destroy them … For a thousand years and more I have stared at them, wondering if at long last I outlived even the stone, would I be free? Or would it be invisible bars that held me then … The Ancient Moonstone Seal? It … it is hard for me to even believe that what I hold now is that which has held me for so long. Le us waste no time. When the seal is destroyed, I might walk the forests of the earth freely again. It was the craft of one of the most powerful of the Highborne that created the seal that formed my prison. In Ameth’Aran, the ruins to the south that are twin to these, persists even today an ancient flame, blue in color. In this flame this seal could be destroyed. Be wary in the ruins. I am freed. I can now see with my own eyes the changes that have come to our world … only bits and pieces have I known. To think that when I last walked freely, the Well still stood and the Highborne held court with Azshara, our beloved queen. I sense that my jailor, my former master, Athrikus, still lives … Already my feelings of hopelessnes will give way into thoughts of vengeance. Back to Wow Story Arcs
Thundris Windweaver from Auberdine(Darkshore) sends you to investigate. The ruins of Bashal’Aran to the east are overrun with demonic minions. The sprites and satyrs that have taken up residence in the area feed upon the magical energies of the area, their powers growing from continued exposure. Even with that, I have noticed that there is one shrine they will not approach. On the western side of the ruins, atop a small bluff, a strange blue aura permeates… There must be an explanation to the demons’ reluctance. I would like you to investigate it.
Finding the strange blue aura, you find Asterion—second to the service of Athrikus Narassin—is found held prisoner within.
“Ahh … to what could I possibly owe the exceedingly special honor of one such as yourself as company. Truly it says much of my current companions—- with the offense to my hosts, the noble grells and satyrs—that your presence could be considered an improvement.
But please, do not let my uncivil tongue drive you from the place. It has indeed been many years, decades even, since I had civil accompaniment.”
If I were to relate the story of my life, I have no doubt it would surpass the limits of your patience. Let us say that mine has been a long and painful life, and this spectral form is perhaps the worst torment of all.
I am held here by the means of magic. Though my words may seem disingenuous, I assure you I would be grateful beyond words if you would help me find the means of my imprisonment. A seal binds me, and by examining the earpieces of the sprites and grells, I may find a trace of it.
Once I have the earrings, I will cast the spell to search for the whereabouts of the seal that binds me. For centuries I have thought on the freedom destroying the seal would bring to me … Perhaps those centuries have taken a toll upon my mind that I might never recover …
Indeed … the grells of Bashal’Aran do not possess that which I am searching … however they have come into contact with it recently. Recently … I would reckon that by your time, not mine. Recent for me stretches into the veil of the past, almost another Age …
If the grells have come into close contact with the seal that binds my eternal prison, I suspect I know the cause. No doubt the seal has come into the possession of the satyr that lead them. I feel strongly that this must be true. One of the satyr must surely possess it. If you can obtain it, you would bring me so close to passing the bars of my prison that tears would come to my eyes.
Obtain the Ancient Moonstone Seal and bring it to Asterion in Bashal’Aran.
The pillars of this shrine are as the bars of a prison to me. No strength I still possess might break them, and no magic I wield might destroy them … For a thousand years and more I have stared at them, wondering if at long last I outlived even the stone, would I be free? Or would it be invisible bars that held me then …
The Ancient Moonstone Seal? It … it is hard for me to even believe that what I hold now is that which has held me for so long. Le us waste no time. When the seal is destroyed, I might walk the forests of the earth freely again.
It was the craft of one of the most powerful of the Highborne that created the seal that formed my prison. In Ameth’Aran, the ruins to the south that are twin to these, persists even today an ancient flame, blue in color. In this flame this seal could be destroyed. Be wary in the ruins.
I am freed. I can now see with my own eyes the changes that have come to our world … only bits and pieces have I known. To think that when I last walked freely, the Well still stood and the Highborne held court with Azshara, our beloved queen.
I sense that my jailor, my former master, Athrikus, still lives … Already my feelings of hopelessnes will give way into thoughts of vengeance.
Back to Wow Story Arcs
As you can see, the unadorned seal has three empty sockets. Each of those sockets must be filled with a gemstone representing the leadership’s command. Finally, Overlord Wyrmthalak, master of the lower citadel, must forge the seal in the flames of the Black Dragonflight. Understand this, mortal: the chance that one of the three generals of the lower citadel would carry a gemstone at any given time is rare. You must be vigilant in your quest. Remain determined!
Find the three gemstones of command: The Gemstone of Smolderthorn, Gemstone of Spirestone, and Gemstone of Bloodaxe. Return them, along with the Unadorned Seal of Ascension, to Vaelan. The Generals, as told to you by Vaelan, are: War Master Voone of the Smolderthorn; Highlord Omokk of the Spirestone; and Overlord Wyrmthalak of the Bloodaxe.
At last – one among you is worthy of my knowledge. Worry not – I have probed your thoughts, no harm will come to you. Listen carefully, for the lord of Blackrock will surely destroy you, should you not be prepared.
Do not bring it any closer, mortal. I can sense the evil coursing through the seal from where I stand. Give me a moment to inspect the item – hold it firmly. Courage and patience above all else, mortal!
(Vaelan’s image blurs for a moment)
(The pieces that you had collected have disappeared)
The unforged Seal of Ascension is now ready. It is time for the final step. I have discerned the path that you must take. Are you prepared?
Few of the black dragonkin, outside of those in the upper citadel, have the ability to forge the seal with their own flaming breath. Wyrmthalak is one such dragonkin, but his will is unbreakable. You must travel to the Wyrmbog in Dustwallow Marsh. It is there that you will find an ancient drake known as Emberstrife. You must break his will, Morag. Break it and use this orb on his weakened form. You will have scant seconds to control his mind and fan the flames that will forge the seal.
Travel to the Wyrmbog in Dustwallow Marsh. Find the ancient drake, Emberstrife and beat him without mercy until his will is broken. It is at that moment which you must place the Unforged Seal of Ascension before the great beast. You must then be quick to use the Orb of Draconic Energy on his weakened form and claim dominion over his mental faculties. Control the beast and force the Flames of the Black Dragonflight upon the Unforged Seal of Ascension! Waste no time, mortal. Nefarian works feverishly to unleash his evil upon our world.
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Cavindra the Dryad: Legends of Maraudon
A dark satyr called Lord Vyletongue spread his evil through these twisting caves, poisoning the minds of all inside. He still resides beyond the purple crystals.
Vyletongue also created a living symbol of his corruption called Noxxion that dwells beyond the orange crystals. Together, they have stolen the two parts of my brother’s scepter. Celebras, my brother… he wanders blindly inside, cursed by corruption.
You must help him! Find the pieces, and speak to my brother… somehow.
Recover the two parts of the Scepter of Celebras: the Celebrian Rod and the Celebrian Diamond
Celebras the Redeemed
Thank you for what you have done. Keep the scepter safe: may it aid you in your toll against the evils that have invaded this place …
Long ago, my dryad sisters and I entered these caves to free the tortured spirit of my uncle, Zaetar. However, the corruption that had already spread through these caverns soon overcame us, and we too fell.
We were destined to wander these passages; the toxins poisoning our minds … Although my spirit may now be at rest. I know that I have failed in my mission. It is a great sadness I must bear …
My father, Remulos, tried to stop Zaetar. Zaetar was headstrong, and when he fell for an earthen elemental princess, my father knew that their union was cursed, but Zaetar refused to listen.
The centaur are the result of his mistake. They were born misshapen and hateful; my uncle Zaetar was killed by his own kin …
The evil princess, Theradras, still guards his remains here in the crystal caverns of Maraudon.
> Tell me more about the history of Remulos and Zaetar
You ask of the Sons of Cenarius: Remulos and Zaetar. My father, Remulos, was strong and beautiful, and my uncle, Zaetar, very cunning and slight of build. While they were respected quite equally, Zaetar always felt as if he could never quite compare to the glory and attention he thought Remulos had.
After my sisters and I were born, Zaetar, blinded by jealousy, set out to outdo his brother … He was the creator of his own end. The sadness it brings me has never lessened, even as time passes …
Selendras: Corruption of Earth and Seed
Deep in Maraudon lives an evil creature of chaos—Princess Theradras is an elemental force of earth related to the Old Gods. Ages ago, she and Zaetar, first son of Cenarius, began a relationship. The offspring of their time together became known to the people of Kalimdor as centaur. Ever-thankful creatures, the centaur killed Zaetar, and now hold Zaetar’s remains. My quest here is to find those powerful enough to slay Theradras so we may recover Zaetar’s remains before returning to Stonetalon.
Slay Princess Theradras and return to Selendra near Shadowprey Village in Desolace.
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I – I am badly injured …
> You will be ok, Awbee. Your assailants have been terminated.
Liste, Listen well …
The dragon riders came in the night, mounted atop the black flight. They struck fast and with deadly precision, taking young whelps – such as me – and escaping under the veil of darkness.
I watched in horror as they used my brothers and sisters in their experiments. From our essence would be created the chromatic flight.
Nefarian had ordered that unsuitable subjects be destroyed immediately, but these retched beasts would not do so without first inflicting an ample amount of torture.
When we were thoroughly broken, they would round up what remained and throw us to these thugs. Our bodies used as instruments in their sick game: thrown into the lava or worse; to the open and waiting arms of the bloodhirsty legion below.
You came along just as they were about to throw me to the fiends below – for that, I thank you. Perhaps, I rather – we, of the blue flight, can assist you further?
You have come this far, risked much. Will you go a ways further to battle Nefarian and his legion of Blackrock?
Travel to Kalimdor. Our flight makes its home in the frigid landscape of Winterspring. Once you reach Winterspring, find the caves of Mazthoril.
Upon the icy floors of Mazthoril you will find cobalt runes. Hold one of my scales and stand upon a rune and you shall be transported to Haleh, our matron protectorate.
Give her the scale so that she may scry what it is I have seen and felt, here in this doomed place.
Haleh the Matron Protectorate says
We understand what the cursed brood of Deathwing attempts to do and we know that it cannot be allowed.
Because of the protection Blackrock Mountain affords Nefarian, it has become increasingly difficult for us to intercede. We can, however, empower you, mortal – should you so choose. The path before you is one full of peril. You must decide whether to accept our help. Ponder this and speak with me again when a decision has been made.
It is the arcane that I control and the arcane which will send you to your next destination. When you are ready, the journey will begin. To the Plaguelands you will go and to Jeziba you will speak. He is a mortal as wise as the ancients and as patient as the immovable earth. Find him in Andorhal.
Jeziba the Sculptor
A finer instrument of justice, Haleh could not have chosen. Read from the catalogue of the wayward and be enlightened. Should you persist… should you do what is asked of you… should you survive… a hero you will make.
To forge the Legplates of the Chromatic Defier, you will be required to bring the following items to Jeziba the ‘Sculptor’:
1 Chromatic Carapace.
10 Brilliant Chromatic Scales.
10 Blood of Heroes.
5 Skin of Shadow
The carapace of a mature chromatic drake is needed to form the foundation of the leggings. Brilliant chromatic scales are then layered upon the wire frame and enchanted in the blood of heroes. Finally, the supple skin of shadow must be applied to the inner greaves.
To forge the Breastplate of the Chromatic Flight, you will be required to bring the following items to Jeziba the ‘Sculptor’:
1 Chromatic Carapace.
10 Brilliant Chromatic Scales.
10 Blood of Heroes.
10 Frayed Abomination Stitchings
The forging of a powerful breastplate to protect against the unrelenting attacks of the chromatic flight is one built upon irony.
The scales of the very beasts we battle must be sewn to the pristine carapace of an elder chromatic drake or dragon. None are known to exist at this time and we should hope that none will ever exist.
Lastly, perhaps the most difficult of all components: the blood of heroes.
The Sculptor must ultimately forge this creation.
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I need no home to know I still have a place in this world. The tribes will see … all of them. They fight amongst one another, and for what? Scraps left over by vultures … lands infested by the Legion … bah!
The centaur should be proud of their heritage—it is just as noble as any Night elf’s or orc’s—it is time we started acting like it! Though exiled as a heretic, my beliefs still ring true—that alone drives me onward. But for my destiny to be complete, I need the aid of an outsider … one not of any centaur tribe.
The task requires someone to enter the holy halls of Maraudon—a tomb my people protect, and only the most devout are ever allowed to enter.
Can you help me? Will you set foot on holy ground to help me forge one great centaur tribe!? If you agree to aid me, then you need only nod. I will pass you a parchment with my instructions on it. Read it over and consider my words.
The Pariah’s Instructions
Set far back in the Valley of Spears is the holy temple of Maraudon. If that were not transgression enough, you will quickly see why I have asked a non-centaur to aid me in my plight. There, just beyond the doors where only spirits and our most sacred priests and priestesses may travel is one called The Nameless Prophet. He is hte highest of any tribe in spiritual matters, and is one of the oldest of any tribe. The prophet is powerful, and communicates with hte spirits of our ancestors. But he is a fool! He has no idea the true power he possesses. On his person is the Amulet of Spirits—it is where most of his strength comes from. I have learned that the Amulet is powerful, but it is incomplete. There are five gems missing from the amulet. And if those gems were found and placed back into the symbol, its power would far exceed that of its current form. I have found the five gems, but need one of your skill to help gather them. Slaying the Nameless Prophet is heresy for sure, as is stealing from his corpse, but what I would ask of you next would condemn any centaur for even thinking it. Throughout the caverns of Maraudon raom the spirits of our first Kahns. Our Mother and Father’s first children. And our greatest Leaders—they are Gelk, Kolk, Magra, Maraudos and Veng. Each of these spirits holds one of the missing gems. Use the power of the Amulet of Spirits to force them to manisfest and take the gems from them! After, place the gems within the Amulet of Spirits and return it to me. Once I have the Amulet of Union, I will be powerful enough to reform the tribes so we can finally be as our ancestors wanted us to be! First Kahn: Kolk Second Kahn: Gelk Third Kahn: Magra Fourth Kahn: Maraudos Fifth Kahn: Veng Back to Wow Story Arcs
Set far back in the Valley of Spears is the holy temple of Maraudon. If that were not transgression enough, you will quickly see why I have asked a non-centaur to aid me in my plight.
There, just beyond the doors where only spirits and our most sacred priests and priestesses may travel is one called The Nameless Prophet. He is hte highest of any tribe in spiritual matters, and is one of the oldest of any tribe.
The prophet is powerful, and communicates with hte spirits of our ancestors. But he is a fool! He has no idea the true power he possesses. On his person is the Amulet of Spirits—it is where most of his strength comes from.
I have learned that the Amulet is powerful, but it is incomplete.
There are five gems missing from the amulet. And if those gems were found and placed back into the symbol, its power would far exceed that of its current form. I have found the five gems, but need one of your skill to help gather them. Slaying the Nameless Prophet is heresy for sure, as is stealing from his corpse, but what I would ask of you next would condemn any centaur for even thinking it.
Throughout the caverns of Maraudon raom the spirits of our first Kahns. Our Mother and Father’s first children. And our greatest Leaders—they are Gelk, Kolk, Magra, Maraudos and Veng. Each of these spirits holds one of the missing gems.
Use the power of the Amulet of Spirits to force them to manisfest and take the gems from them! After, place the gems within the Amulet of Spirits and return it to me. Once I have the Amulet of Union, I will be powerful enough to reform the tribes so we can finally be as our ancestors wanted us to be!
First Kahn: Kolk
Second Kahn: Gelk
Third Kahn: Magra
Fourth Kahn: Maraudos
Fifth Kahn: Veng
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Ranger Captain Alleria Windrunner
Renowned Troll Hunter of Quel’Thalas. Lead Scout and Intelligence Agent for the Alliance Expedition that marched into the orc homeworld of Draenor. Presumed deceased.
Your heart flew straight as any arrow upon the wind, sister. You were the brightest of our Order. You were the most beloved of our kin.
—Sylvanas Windrunner – Ranger General of Quel’Thalas
Archmage Khadgar of the Kiring Tor
Former apprentice of Medivh. Supreme Commander of the Alliance Expedition that marched into the orc homeworld of Draenor. Presumed deceased.
Never did one so selflessly delve into the dark heart of magic and warfare. We wish you well, bold wanderer. Wherever you are.
—Antonidas – Archmage of Dalaran
Renowned Dragon Fighter. Gryphon Master of the Aerie Peak. Commander of the Gryphon Rider Division attached to the Alliance Expedition that marched into the orc homeworld of Draenor. Presumed deceased.
We will hear Sky-Ree’s calls upon the winds. We will hear your hammer thunder across the mountaintops. Ride hard into the hereafter, brother. The halls of our ancestors await you.
—Falstad Wildhammer – Lord of Aerie Peak
Militia Commander of Stromgarde. Tactical Advisor to General Turalyon. Force Commander of the Alliance Expedition that marched into the orc homeworld of Draenor. Presumed deceased.
We honor your memory, nephew, and your sacrifice. Since the founding of our glorious empire, the path to valor has always been drenched with the blood of heroes.
—Thoras Trollbane, Lord of Stromgarde
Former Lieutenant to Lord Anduin Lothar, Knight of the Silver Hand. High General of the Alliance Expedition that marched into the orc homeworld of Draenor. Presumed deceased.
Esarus thar no Darador’ – By blood and honor we serve.
You were the right hand of justice and virtue, old friend. Your name will be honored in our halls always.
—Lord Uther the Lightbringer – Knigt of the Silver Hand
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Find Balthule Shadowstrike near the Tower of Althalaxx in Darkshore.
Sentinel Elissa Starbreeze: “Hail, young (race). I am Elissa Starbreeze, and it is my charge to protect Auberdine from harm.
To this end, I sent Balthule Shadowstrike to observe the strange happenings around the Tower of Althalaxx to the northeast.
It is past time that he should have returned. I worry that he has encountered some unforeseen danger in the forest. I would be most appreciative if you would find him and see that he is doing well.”
Collect 4 Worn Parchments for Balthule Shadowstrike near the Tower of Althalaxx.
Balthule Shadowstrike: “A group of warlocks has taken up residence around and inside the tower. I would have returned to Auberdine to report to Elissa earlier, but I was afraid that I might miss something while I was away.
Delgren suspected such a company might be gathering at the tower, but did not know why.
A few scraps of parchment that the warlocks carry have found their way to my hands, but I need more to complete the puzzle. I warn you not to venture into the tower, however, the warlocks there are much more powerful!”
Balthule Shadowstrike: “Deliver Balthule’s letter to Delgren the Purifier in Ashenvale Forest.
My master, Delgren the Purifier, is a paladin who has graciously offered his assistance in defending our forests from the forces of the demons and undead. He has taught me much about the Holy Light and the art of battle.
Delgren must know of the cult’s operations immediately.
You will find him far south of here at Maestra’s Post in Ashenvale Forest. Be swift, I fear the Dark Strand’s threat grows with each passing hour.”
It is as you feared. Your theory about the Tower of Althalaxx has proven true. A cult has gathered at the tower with many warlocks amongst their number, including even a foul satyr. They call themselves the Cult of the Dark Strand. I cannot imagine what vile purpose brings them together, but it worries me.
Please forgive the terseness in which I have composed this missive, but danger lurks in the forest around me and I can spare few words to describing the situation. I would deliver the message to you myself, but I fear to leave lest I miss some event of great import.
Should you wish to know more of my observations on the Tower of Althalaxx, the bearer of this message has provided no small amount of assistance to me, and I believe he can be trusted.
Collect a Glowing Soul Gem and return it to Delgren the Purifier at Maestra’s Post.
Delgren the Purifier: “Balthule’s letter is dire. This Cult of the Dark Strand is a thorn in my side that must be removed. I have been dealing with some of the Dark Strand scum northeast of here at Ordil’Aran. One of their number possesses a soul gem that I believe holds the secret to the cult’s power.
Bring it to me, and I will be able to decipher the secrets held within.”
Delgren the Purifier: “Hmm, some dark magic enchants this soulstone. Let’s see what’s trapped inside, shall we?”
(The Spirit of a highborne shows up. He was trapped within the Soul gem by Athrikus Narassin ten thousand years ago.)—refer to the The Fall of Ameth’Aran & Bashal’Aran
Bring Ilkrud Magthrull’s Tome to Delgren the Purifier at Maestra’s Post.
Delgran the Purifier: “Ilkrud Magthrull. Yes, I have knowledge of him. He is a powerful orc warlock that makes his residence at the Fire Scar Shrine, a place of great evil in southwestern Ashenvale.
He had been little more than an annoyance until now, and I had not dealt with him, but it seems that his time has come.”
Free the trapped Highborne souls in Night Run and Satyrnaar, then return to Delgren the Purifier at Maestra’s Post.
Delgren the Purifier: “The writing of the orcs is little better than the scribblings of a child. Many of my order scoffed when I chose to learn their tongue, but I have found it beneficial to gain further understanding of my enemies.
From Ilkrud’s scribblings, it appears that Athrikus still possesses two soulgems, and they are being held in Night Run and Satyrnaar, satyr-held areas in northeast Ashenvale.
Be careful out there, (Name), the satyrs’ blood-soaked temples can be unsettling even for a seasoned (Class) such as yourself.”
Speak with Balthule Shadowstrike near the Tower of Althalaxx.
Delgren the Purifier: “Before confronting Athrikus, it would probably be wise for you to consult with Balthule. I have no doubt he has been vigilant in his watch of the Tower, and he may have information about recent developments.”
Kill Athrikus Narassin and bring his head to Balthule Shadowstrike near the Tower of Althalaxx.
Balthule Shadowstrike: “I see. Well, if what you say is true, then now is the time to strike. I believe Athrikus resides at the top of the tower. Be careful though, he is surrounded by many powerful warlocks, much more deadly than the ones you faced before.”
Talk to Delgren the Purifier at Maestra’s Post.
For all the work that you have done, you deserve to be well rewarded. Return to Delgren and tell him that Athrikus Narassin lies stilled by your hand, and the Cult of the Dark Strand is beaten and scattered.
I knew you would be up to the task.
I sense great deeds before you, and that you will right many wrongs that plague our lands. Bear my blessings, as well as this gift.
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Salutations. My function is to offer access to and, when permissible, Insight into information regarding the Creator’s synthesis of the Earthen on the world designated as Azeroth. I am ready to share this information with you at your leisure.
> Who are the earthen?
The Earthen are a synthesized race engineered by the Creators, functioning as one of the seed races in the initial population of the world designated as Azeroth. The Earthen were created to aid the Creators’ efforts in shaping the deep regions of this world.
They are a modification of the standard subterranean being matrix used on other worlds that the Creators have seeded. The construction of this prototype race created various anomalies that were observed after initial synthesis.
>What is a “subterranean being matrix?”
It is one of the synthesis matrices the Creators use when seeding a world. Each synthesis matrix is used to achieve the Creator’s goals. For Azeroth, a subterranean being matrix was modified to create a being with increased durability with an affinity for deep region shaping; the Earthen are the product of this modification.
After the earthen had been put into service of the Creators, unforeseen anomalies were discovered that affected their synthesis matrix due to high-stress environments.
> What are the anomalies you speak of?
Additional background information on the Earthen must be given to you before this question may be answered properly.
To understand the anomalies of the Earthen, it is first important to understand what the Earthen represent in their design intent. The Earthen represent the Creator’s attempt at improving the survivablity paradigm of the standard subterranean matrix. This was done by incorporating a resilient foundation of construction inherenet to the world into said matrix,
>What is a “resilient foundation of construction”?
It is the baseline material used in race synthesis. A cross-section of Azeroth’s crust was used by the foundation for the Earthen’s synthesis rather than the typical biomass construction foundation used by the Creators.
Research on the world’s composition led the Creators to theorize that an enhanced being could be synthesized that would epitomize the resiliency of this world’s essence. This was accomplished by choosing to use a blend of Azeroth’s various stone core compounds as the foundation.
> So… the Earthen were made out of stone?
Simply stated, this is correct.
The Earthen’s physical features are that of a smaller stature humanoid, though their composition is that of Azeroth’s various stone core compounds. Their design maximizes strength and stamina without sacrificing cognitive processing power. Their skin and musculature are nearly impervious to physical damage, and with very minor modifications the Earthen display a remarkable resilience to unwanted magical forces.
>Anything else I should know about the Earthen?
It is integral to the assimilation of this data that it is understoof that the Creators wanted to synthesize a race that would long be an integral part of the world’s development cycle after they had departed. This race would be instrumental in fulfilling the creator’s long-term development objectives for Azeroth.
As an ancillary note, the nomenclature “Earthen” was deemed apropos for the new race by the Creators, based on the Earthen’s composition.
>I think I understand the Creator’s design intent for the Earthen now. What are the Earthen’s anomalies that you spoke of earlier?
The Earthen’s only anomaly in the synthesis is the tendecy for matrix destabilization while being utilized in high-stress environments.
Addendum: deep earth sculpting was naturally suited to the new matrix design and thus never met the qualifications of duplicating a high stress environment.
Destabilization was not discovered until well into the Earthen’s primary service cycle for the Creators. The Creators began to work on post-synthesis modification, rather than recall and re-synthesize.
>What high-stress environments would cause the Earthen to destabilize?
There are two potential results when the Earthen’s synthesis matrix destabilizes. Initiating visual aid representation number one.
The first variant matrix is a degenerative product of synthesis, hereby designated with the common nomenclature of “Trogg”. This variant maintains strength and stamina comparable to the earthen, but its cognitive processing power has been almost completely compromised. Force of will and a strong sense of cunning are the only driving factors in the psyche of the trogg.
>Troggs?! Are the troggs you mention the same as the ones in the world today?
I am unable to process your chronological reference in comparison to the recording of this data, my apologies.
The trogg retains some composition of Azeroth’s various stone core compounds, but the loss of cognitive power makes this variant unacceptable to the Creators.
The trogg procreates as per a standard biomass. By default it consumes stone and anything else it can acquire, including other troggs. Cannibalism is considered unacceptable by the Creators.
>You mentioned two results when the earthen destablize. What is the second?
Initating visual aid representation number two.
The second resultant variance of the Earthen matrix retains many desired elements when compared to the standard subterranean matrix. The common nomenclature for this variant is “Dwarf”.
This variant retains strength and stamina inherent to the Earthen. In some cases, the dwarf even exceeds the cognitive powers of the Earthen’s matrix. The dwarf, however, retains none of the physical composition of Azeroth’s various stone core compounds.
>Dwarves!!! Now you’re telling me that dwarves originally came from the Earthen?!
The data stored in this repository does indeed correlate with your astute proclamation.
The dwarf maintans an affinity for the stone composition of Azeroth, but due to the high-stress environmental anomaly within the Earthen’s synthesis matrix, the dwarf reverts to a default biomass composition as seen in the standard subterranean matrix.
Ergo, the dwarf variant does synthesize from the degeneration of the Earthen creation matrix, as you inferred with your query.
>These dwarves are the same ones today, yes? Do dwarves mantain any other links to the Earthen?
I am unable to process your chronological references in comparison to the recording of this data, my apologies.
Though the dwarf maintains most of the Earthen’s mental attunement to Azeroth’s stone composition, the reversion back into living biomass remains the main degeneration of the matrix. Dwarves eat and procreate through means typical to other standard biomasses.
The creators view the dwarf as an acceptable variant, worth of genesis in its own right.
>Who are the Creators?
The Creators are… the Creators.
They are the beings that seeded and shaped this world by their own design. They are the reason for this world’s existence, as well as many other worlds. They are the wellspring from which Azeroth flows.
>This is a lot to think about.
The Creators are cognizant of the magnitude of the information housed in this repository. Subsequently, a portable copy of this data stored here will be made available to you once you are attuned with the Discs of Norgannon.
Please consider your cursory requirements for the assimilation of this knowledge to be complete. At your leisure, access the Discs of Norgannon to being synthesis of your discs.”
—from the holographic image of the Norgannon Lorekeeper, after defeating him at the halls of Uldaman, Badlands
THE DEFIAS BROTHERHOOD
|The Defias Brotherhood|
|Wiley’s Note – ( Missing Diplomat )|
|Shaw’s Report – ( Missing Diplomat )|
|A Mysterious Message – ( Defias Brotherhood )|
|An Unsent Letter – ( Defias Brotherhood )|
The original survey crew sent by the Explorer’s League was indeed correct in their findings. The ground here holds artifacts of unlimited value to our people. No doubt we will find many answers in our quest for knowledge beneath the sand and rock of Bael Modan.
The geology of the region dictates we use extreme measures however. Many of the sand deposits have solidified under the harsh conditions and varying climate.
The solution is quite simple however. Using wood pulp as an absorbent, we can combine traces of nitroglycerin with sodium nitrate to develp a strong blasting charge capable of breaking through even the most dense masses.
The work will be noisy and disruptive, but our search is of far greater importance than the comfort of the local inhabitants. In fact we’ve already had to drive a band of bull-men out of the area who were proving to be a nuisance.
The fact that we are dealing with various rogue elements out here leads me to believe we will need support from the King’s army. Not only will the excavation require military support, it would seem to my novice eye that the location of Bael Modan might be of strategic value to the Alliance considering the volatility of world politics in their current state.
Alas, I have digressed. There is much work to be done beneath the rock, I have spent too much time writting and not enough digging.
Journal drops from Prospector Khazgorm in Bael Modan, The Barrens
The terror of these past few weeks is almost more than I can bear; why is it that by writing words into this book I can somehow keep the madness at bay? Perhaps it is as if I’m confessing my sins to a silent companion, or freeing my mind of these tortured thoughts and confining them to paper. I began a journal before this one, but it remains in a place to which I cannot return. So I will start afresh. But this time, I will start from the true beginning.
It began with the finding of that cursed scythe in the mine they call Roland’s Doom. Yes, that was the start of it. Before that, the Defias Brotherhood was happy with our progress in Duskwood. Before the Scythe, the terrors of this place seemed as tame as Northshire Valley.
But ever since I found the haft of the Scythe jutting from that pile of rubble in the mine and, curse me, pulled it free, Roland’s Doom became a place of vile death!
If I had known what would happen, I would have cut off my own hand to keep from grasping that rune-carved wood. So many regrets! I always thought that was a privilege of the old. I now know that it is not the old – it is the hopeless – who don the mantle of regret, unable and unwilling to shrug it from shoulders stooped with misery.
But enough waxing like a pipe-mad poet. I must continue with the chronicle…
After the Scythe was freed, a change rippled through the mine. Light from our flickering torches warped, and the strength of our voices seemed beyond our control. Sometimes a man’s whisper roared through the tunnels forcing hands on ears, and sometimes our shouts barely traveled a few steps before diminishing into a hint on the wind.
Unnerving, yes, but we did not have long to wonder at this strangeness. It was but a harbinger of what truly drove us from the mine. The Worgen.
They came at us from everywhere, clawing from hidden holes at our feet and dropping upon us from silent perches above. Half our men fell in those first panicked minutes. The rest, including myself, tried to flee. As I ran I saw so many of my brothers taken by tooth and claw, heard so many screams cut short or gurgle to silence.
For all I know, I am the only human to escape that place.”
I can only guess why I survived that night. I have always been cautious, always quick to flinch from jabs and leap free of pitfalls. My nickname, Jitters, comes from this trait. So perhaps it was just that knack for caution that saved me…
Or maybe it was the Scythe I pulled from the rubble. It cannot be the Scythe itself, for I lost it during my frantic flight. But if it was I who brought the Worgen to Duskwood, then perhaps the Worgen afforded me a rare courtesy. Curse them.
Or perhaps, I am doomed to witness the change I wrought on Duskwood. Perhaps it is my fate to watch as the Worgen tear into this land, staining it ever darker with their foulness.
If that truly is my fate, then it is twofold. For the Worgen are not the only power to clutch at Duskwood – the fiends from Deadwind Pass have also staked claim.
That is the next chapter of my tale, and I pray it is the last…
After surviving the flight from Roland’s Doom, I hid within a barn owned by a man named Sven. I spent a few days in the barn, and such horror lingered with me that I never once made myself known to Sven or his family. But from what I saw from my hiding place, I knew these farmers were quite decent folk. Had I stepped from my concealment I think they would have taken me in, but trust is hard for me. Harder still after that shock in the mine.
So I remained hidden. And it saved my life.
A few days after I arrived at the barn, Sven left his farm for Darkshire. He kissed his wife and smiled to his children and promised to return soon with toys and sweets. The poor man. That was the last time he saw his family unmutilated.
At least they parted happily. And at least his wife was the first to die, and was freed from seeing the slaughter of her children. But these small graces do nothing for me. I saw what happened, and it will ever haunt my dreams.
My hand trembles as I recall the details of that night, when Sven was away and his family was doomed to face the Black Riders alone. Again regret claws at me, for I was there and could have risen against those fiends from Deadwind Pass. But it is a false regret. It is the same that plagues any survivor of a tragedy. I know that, had I left my place of hiding I too would have been killed, my body ripped and torn, and its pieces spread so widely that I would not be recognized.
But, even though I know I could have done nothing to stop this heinous murder, one true regret does remain: I brought the Black Riders to Sven’s farm. My discovery of the Scythe not only unleashed the Worgen upon Duskwood – it drew the Riders from Deadwind Pass.
I know this because, just before they began their slaughter they asked one question to Sven’s wife as she held her children close, giving them what comfort she could though she was certain death was near.
“The Scythe of Elune.” one of the Riders shrieked in a voice both harsh and shrill, like the grinding of an axe on stone. And the last word – Elune – it croaked, as if choking on the sound.
Dread gripped me when I heard that voice, both from the horrid sound of it, and because…I knew the Scythe of which the Rider spoke. It must be the same cursed thing I drew from the rocks of Roland’s Doom days before. It was what the Black Riders sought!
And it was what would kill Sven’s family.
I never learned the name of Sven’s wife, as she was only ever called “dearest,” and “my love,” and “mommy” by her husband and children. But I wish I knew it. I am the only living memory of her deed that day, and although she was just a farmer’s wife, never have I seen a man or woman act with such bravery.
Of course she did not know of the Scythe, but when she learned the Riders sought it, in an instant a plan formed in her head.
And it was bold and clever. If only it had worked.
“The Scythe?” she said in a calm voice. “Of course I do. Who here wouldn’t?” She looked at the Riders with steady eyes, and I would have sworn she spoke the truth if I had not known better. There was no way she could know about the Scythe.
Her gambit paid off. The same Rider who uttered the question before bent his head slightly toward her, and shrieked, “Where?”
“I’ll take you. All of you,” she said, and I could see a small hope flicker behind her eyes.
“But the way is far, and my children would slow us. We must leave them.”
Her trick was simple, but simple tricks have the best hope of success. If it worked, it would lead the Riders away from the farm. She would be lost, but her children would be safe. And it would work, if only the Riders believed her noble lies.
Although I have never been a student of the Light, I prayed fiercely for Sven’s wife as she stood against those terrible Riders.
“Please,” I prayed. “Let them believe.”
They stood, frozen, and she met their gazes with calm. Then one rider looked up, as if hearing a distant call. He drew from his garb a small gem and peered into it. He then gestured with the bauble toward Sven’s wife. A light crept from the Rider toward the woman, shaping itself into a grim, white hand. She stared into the light, unflinching, but I could see uncertainty behind her mask of confidence. When the hand reached her, it spread its fingers over her head.
And it squeezed.
Sven’s wife stood rigid as a board, and her eyes grew wide. And although her lips pulled back to mouth a scream, no sound escaped. Afte
r a few moments of this torture the hand released her, dropping her to her knees. The Rider who held the bauble then sat erect in his saddle, and
a loud voice erupted from it.
“This woman lies,” it said in a voice that has scarred my dreams. “She has not seen the Scythe.”
After this, the Rider’s shoulders stooped slightly, as if a spirit within him had fled. And then in the old, shrieking voice it used earlier, these final words were uttered:
“The Lord has spoken. Kill them.”
I cannot describe what happened next. It is clear in my mind, but even my wretched soul cannot put to paper the events of those next few, grisly minutes.
I can only write that Sven’s family was killed. And soon after, Sven returned to this grim, deathly scene. Such grief was in him that I was afraid to show myself. And so afraid was I that he would find me, I fled from my hiding spot in the barn. I do not know where Sven is now, but I pray he will, some day, find peace.
I spent the next few weeks moving from place to place, never lingering for fear of the Riders. I am now in the abandoned town of Raven’s Hill, as always, hiding. I cannot face whatever power they used against Sven’s wife, and I know it searches Duskwood, even still, for the Scythe. It is lost to me, and I thank the Light for this, for had I kept it I know I would have been found. Even now, I know in my heart that I will be found.
I’m so tired.
Book found at Raven Hill, Duskwood
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