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World of Warcraft - Medivh is Alive

Fans who haven’t read previous Warcraft Game Manuals or Warcraft Novels (pocketbooks) are missing a lot of info and lore. Most fans focus more in the gameplay, others enjoy the in-game lore, yet ignore to pick the novels knowingly. In some cases, there are fans who do not know the novels exist. Either way, here is some incentive to start reading novels.

The first Warcraft novel was titled Warcraft: The Last Guardian—written by D&D/fantasy famed author Jeff Grubb. The novel was based on the events of the first Blizzard RTS game Warcraft: Orcs and Humans (1994). The novel was released on December 2002. To date there are over twelve novels and more are coming on 2008. On August 28, 2007 – barely a 8 weeks from now – Blizzard and Simon & Schuster Pocket Star Books will release World of Warcraft: Tides of Darkness by Aaron Rosenberg. And World of Warcraft: Beyond the Dark Portal on April 2008.

For now this article will focus on Medivh. To fans Medivh is dead since the First War. However, the first Warcraft novel already revealed Medivh would be alive again in the future. And he indeed is. Let’s recap what happened in Warcraft: The Last Guardian. Be warned there will be some spoilers.

Khadgar saw a vision of the past where Medivh fought his mother Aegwynn, defeating her. Sargeras within Medivh attempted to kill her, but Medivh seems to have regained some control over his own body and instead exiled Aegwynn to a place where she wouldn’t cause further trouble to his plans of conquering the Eastern Kingdoms.

After this vision, Khadgar grew concerned. Sargeras had revealed himself to Aegwynn in this vision. She did not kill him 800 years ago as she thought. It had been masterminded by Sargeras all along. Now Sargeras resides within Medivh’s body.

Khadgar and Garona found a secret doorway leading to the basement of the Tower of Karazhan. As they progressed down the stairway, Khadgar noticed it was a perfect match of the tower above .. a mirror tower beneath the original. As they reached the mirror copy of Medivh’s room at the very bottom of the mirror tower, Sargeras manifested himself through Medivh’s body and battled Khadgar and Garona.

Lothar arrived few minutes after Khadgar and Garona had engaged Medivh in combat.

Medivh was beheaded by Sir Lothar at the underground mirror-tower of Karazhan.

Khadgar buried the corpses of Moroes (the butler), the cook and Medivh. However, a faint image of Medivh was watching over Khadgar. Khadgar had sensed it since the first day he arrived to Karazhan after the Kirin Tor sent him to become an apprentice to Medivh.

That presence was all along Medivh … but this Medivh came from the future. Medivh talked to Khadgar:

Khadgar: “So what are you in the future? Magus? Guardian? Demon?”

Medivh: “Be assured. I am a better being than I was, I am free of the taint of Sargeras thanks to your actions this day. Now I may deal directly with the Lord of the Burning Legion. Thank you. There cannot be success without sacrifice.”—from Warcraft: The Last Guardian – page 304 .

This storyline of Medivh’s return after death has been foreseen ever since Warcraft: The Last Guardian (2002). Blizzard Entertainment released Warcraft III: Reign of Chaos on July 3, 2002. In Warcraft III: Reign of Chaos, Medivh made its return as the Prophet. No one knew he was Medivh until he revealed himself to Thrall and Jaina at Stonetalon Mountains. To Cairne Bloodhoof (Tauren) he was known as the Oracle.

Fans thought this Medivh was a ghost from beyond who returned to amend his past sins. And still consider Medivh dead. However, to lore fans who do read the Warcraft Novels, we know Medivh is not dead.

World of Warcraft: Cycle of Hatred serves as a prelude to the MMORPG storyline. The novel was written by Keith R.A. DeCandido—author of Star Trek, Serenity, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Resident Evil fame. This novel tells the story of Thrall and Jaina’s fragile peace pact a year before the events of World of Warcraft (MMORPG). Aegwynn is still alive and joins Jaina Proudmoore to destroy an old evil she defeated 800 years ago. A demon named Zmodlor. Aegwynn confesses to Jaina, she resurrected her son Medivh. Medivh sought Thrall, Jaina and Malfurion to convince them to unite forces against the invasion. Making a stand together could prevent the Burning Legion from consuming all life in Azeroth.

Medivh is alive.

Now without the taint of Sargeras.

REFERENCES

• You can read the story of Aegwynn’s defeat by Medivh/Sargeras in Warcraft: The Last Guardian, and again in more detail at World of Warcraft: Cycle of Hatred (page 66-76).

• Medivh’s resurrection by Aegwynn in World of Warcraft: Cycle of Hatred (page 66-76)

Aegwynn’s Tale: Fall of Azeroth from Warcraft: Orc and Humans Game Manual

Medivh’s birth explained in Warcraft: Orc and Humans Game Manual

• Medivh’s death explained in Warcraft: The Last Guardian novel and in Warcraft: Orcs and Humans ( Read the Human Campaign mission 8).

• Warcraft: The Last Guardian Excerpt (Chapter 5: Sands in an Hourglass)

• Our interview with Keith R.A. DeCandido

Warcraft: The Last Guardian

Warcraft: The Last Guardian

World of Warcraft: Cycle of Hatred

Warcraft: Orcs and Humans (1994)

World of Warcraft - Bel’dugur’s Note - The Star, the Hand and the Heart

The Star of Xil’Yeh

An ogre in Alterac, Grel’Borg the Miser, was the last known owner of this gem, whispered to empower its owner with the ability to commune with other worlds. Sources tell us Grel’borg wanders the Ruins of Alterac in the Alterac Mountains searching the rubble and debris for more relics.

The Hand of Dagun

Dagun is a creature of the deep waters, worshipped by Murlocs in Dustwallow Marsh. They entice him to the surface with a special sea kelp, enchanted by their shamans. Hunt the Murlocs, gather their enchanted kelp, then place it on the Murloc’s altar. Dagun will come and you will be waiting.

I want that hand.

The Legacy Heart

Old texts say that he who posseses the Legacy Heart fears not the grave. Perhaps this is true, for the owner of the heart, the troll Mogh, is known as Mogh the Undying. A witchdoctor of the Skullsplitter Tribe. Mogh dwells in Strangelthorn in the Ruins of Zul’Mamwe.

Bring me these items, the Star, the Hand and the Heart, and I will give you a copy of the Yagyin Digest.

The Keeper.



World of Warcraft - Belamoore’s Research Journal - Bloodstone

Kegan Darkmar, leader of the small group of undead who came to us in search of asylum from their brethren, defies our common attitudes toward his kind.  His skin may be rotting and blood may have long stopped flowing through his veins, but he acts very nobly and seems to care more for his compatriots’ safety than his own.

Indeed, there is a humanity within him that, I confess I sometimes see lacking in the humans around me.

But why do I mention this?  I do so to give credence to what I am about to write.  For these words came from Regan’s lips and it is my hope that my colleagues will.  Upon reading this journal, know why I believe what he said.

Remnants of the Old gods still linger in the deep hollows of the world.  New forces seek to harness that ancient power, and those who succeed will have a terrible weapon against their enemies.

That is what Kegan uttered as he handed his bloodstone pendant to me.  And there was fear, and maybe reverence, in his eyes as he did so.  And as his hands met with mine they lingered, as if reluctant to give up the pendant.  Revulsion swept through me.  Yet to this day I know not if I reviled against his dead flesh pressed to mine, or if the pendant itself made my skin crawl.

For I felt a power within it.  A deep hidden hungry power.  And one yearning for release.

Although my colleagues in Dalaran were cautious to study the bloodstones that Kegan and his followers brought with them, instead quarantining the four refugees and leaving the bloodstones on their persons, the sincerity of Kegan obliged me to study his bloodstone pendant.

My hopes were to verify for my colleagues tha this type of stone did possess magical properties.  And if we wizards of Dalaran did not wish to exploit the power of bloodstones, we should at the least learn their properties, since our foes may one day use them against us.

And so my studies began.

I started my tests with the assumption that bloodstone was a type of rock like quartz or obsidian.  So I began a series of procedures to determine what minerals were contained within bloodstone.  What forces were applied to produce its color and hardness, and other properties common to rocks, and ore.  But the bloodstone pendant, to my frustration, did not react to my procedures as would normal ore.

In fact, it often acted in precisely the opposite fashion as expected.  It was almost as if the pendant was deliberately fouling my experiments.

Like it was thinking, and alive.

Angered but not discouraged, I switched from assuming the pendant was an inert piece of rock, to assuming it was a living thing.

But again, I failed.

None of my new tests brought to light any revelations of the origin of bloodstone.  At the time the only riddle I solved was that bloodstone was neither living, nor dead!

But it was then, at the brink of failure, that a breakthrough was made.  My latest test involved a glass beaker, whose brim was chipped.  Leaving a small, jagged space along its edge.  When the test was over again revealing nothing, I went to clean my worktable and cut myself on the beaker.

The cut was not deep but nevertheless bled fiercely.  Before I could wrap my injured finger in a bandage, a good deal of my blood had spilled on my worktable.

And as I was cleaning up this new mess, I noticed the strangest thing.

The blood that had spilled near the bloodstone pendant was slowly moving toward the piece of jewelry.  As if gravity had somehow bent itself toward the bloodstone, the blood that touched the pendant seemed to disappear, and the red color of the stone deepened as it drank more of my blood.

After seeing this, my head grew light.  Perhaps from my recent injury (though I did not believe I had lost that much blood) or perhaps because I had finally, after so much frustration uncovered one of the bloodstone’s properties.  I reached behind me for my work stool and sat down, pondering.  Thoughts and questions raced through my head dizzying and threatening to topple me.

Does bloodstone drink blood?  Does it crave blood?  Does it attract blood?

Or, is bloodstone made of blood?  And if so, then whose blood?  Mine?  The blood of any human?  Any animal?

Or maybe bloodstone is the blood of some unknown thing, the very thing that Kegan had both feared and revered when he handed me his pendant.

That is the question that must be answered.  It is the key.

Fire rekindled within me.  I then dove back into my experiments.  This time I made no assumptions.  Methodically performing every test at my disposal. This increased my required efforts tremendously. But I would be more likely to make discoveries.

And, although my lab here is small and I have no subordinates to spare to aid, I did find one more intriguing quality of bloodstone.

In addition to blood, there are elemental forces fused within the stone.  Fire, water, thunder, and rock are mixed with the blood (But again, the blood of what?).  And although this mixture is outwardly inert, all these forces seem to rage inwardly against each other.  So many more questions were then raised about this amazing and foreboding material.

But to answer those questions, more studies and experiments must be performed on the pendant, and I fear tha the Lordamere Internment Camp cannot marshal the manpower nor the equipment for the task.  So I sent the bloodstone pendant with a courier to Dalaran with specific instructions on how to test it, so they may avoid my earlier frustrations.

As I waited for the results of these tests, I spent my time speaking to Kegan.  Although I constantly pressed him for what he knew about bloodstones, he never told me more than what he said the day he gave me his pendant.  And he did not often speak of his time within the fold of what he called “The Forsaken”, which is the name he calls his clan of undead.

But Kegan was very eager to speak on other subjects, particularly his time growing up in Lordaeron before its fall.

He still holds much love for that lost kingdom.  Even though it is now ruined and dead.

My growing fondness for Kegan gave me patience as I waited for my test results.

But after weeks of no news my patience faltered, and upon further inquires to Dalaran, I learned that the bloodstone never reached my colleagues.  My courier was somehow lost on the way, and the bloodstone pendant was lost with him!

This is grave news for although Kegan and his followers still have bloodstone specimens with which we may experiment.  I fear the pendant may fall into unsavory hands.

I have sent another messenger to Dalaran, and hear that even now they are scouring for the pendant, in the ruins outside our protective sphere.

I only hope we’re not too late.                                                                                                                     



World of Warcraft - Uldaman - Bloodstained Journal

(Only portions of the journal are legible through the stains)

ULDAMAN. DAY 3

I cannot believe how foolish I was.  To be blind-sided by the foul Shadowforge dwarves was a novice’s feat.  My wounds heal slowly. Surely I am poisoned.  I feel my energy sap away.  I must scout ahead nonetheless…

… Make matters worse.  The necklace the gnome made for me has been shattered!  Three of the largest gems set into it have been lost.  I must find them.  Without them the necklace is powerless.

ULDAMAN. DAY 4

First clue revealed itself deep within Uldaman.  As one of the most savage troggs I have ever seen was brandishing about a large sapphire—one I wager that would fit perfectly into the necklace.  I overheard one of the Shadowforge dwarves mention the beasts name: Grimlok.  The cadre of guardians this brute Grimlok has, however …

ULDAMAN. DAY 5

… the trogg, then taking the topaz from his slain “brethren”, marched into the side cave near the front of the hall.

…Quick to place the topaz in a large conspicuous urn toward the back of the chamber…

… Of all things, dwarves!  Three of them, to boot.  They’are barricaded against the troggs currently.  Calling to them would have been a call for suicide.  Lest I be overran by the foul troggs in my weakened state.  Once I know the third gem, however, I shall.

ULDAMAN. DAY 6

… so very hungry.  I am out of supplies.  And would consider moldy bread to be at least at this point.  I witnessed a trogg’s head turn into a juicy steak right in front of my very eyes …

ULDAMAN. DAY 7

… Last chance at redemption for my failures.  I believe the ruby is in the last barricaded area the dwarves have against the troggs.  Their battles, no doubt over the gems and the other artifacts from this site, rage continuously.  It would be just like those vile dwarves to hide it somewhere there.  Regardless, I must make a move one way or another.  Perhaps a mad dash to the surface is the best course.



World of Warcraft - Neeka’s Report

Helgrum,

My compliments to whomever issued the order to establish our base of Kargath in the Badlands.  It is an ideal locale to train our troops.  Its harsh weather, vicious wildlife, warlike natives and complete lack of outside support make this place a crucible from which only the finest warriors and scouts will emerge.

Good planning.  Well done.

I will describe the surrounding lands as the scouts of Kargath have surveyed.

Red, rocky hills and dry flats that offer little support for life.  A blazing sun and severe winds.  No lakes or streams.  Not even scattered pools.  To find water denizens must dig deep, muddy wells.  Or suck scant moisture from the rare cactus or spiny weed.

In short, hot, hard living.

The Badlands are filled with enemies.  Ogres roam the blistering sands ambushing the unwary.  Dark Iron Dwarves inhabit a barracks east of Kargath and battle their lighter-skinned cousins in Loch Modan to the north.  Brutal, primitive beasts called Troggs haunt any scrap of shade they find and defend it savagely.

And in Eastern Badlands in the Lethlor Ravine there are dragons.  We don’t know how many and we don’t know how big, since scouts who get too close never return.

It need not be said that we —those garrisoned at Kargath—are quite happy with our assignment.  We stay tough here, because if we get soft then we die.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Neeka Bloodscar
Head Scout, Kargath



REPORT TO HELGRUM

Bring Neeka’s Report to Helgrum the Swift in Stonard.

DESCRIPTION

I wrote a fresh report to Helgrum in Stonard.  Bring it to him.

And if you consider yourself an outrunner, then don’t lose your way.  Or fall to an enemy.

Helgrum the Swift: Thank you.  From Neeka’s report, I see the Alliance is not without its own problems.  And we may find that some enemies are shared between us.

World of Warcraft - Green Hills of Stranglethorn Vale

Our first day went as well as one can expect first days to go.  Most of our time was preoccupied with making the necessary arrangements to establish a base camp.  I located an ideal setting by a freshwater river inlet.  Judging by the old, abandoned docks nearby this site was inhabited sometime ago.  As for the original inhabitants, only time can tell that tale.

For this expedition I have assembled Ajeck Rovack, and Sir S. J. Erlgadin, along with my trusted servant Barnil Stonepot.  I fought alongside Ajeck’s father’s side in many battles in defense of the Alliance.  Seeing her grown is quite special.  Her father schooled her well in the ways of weaponry.  Her skills with a bow make me wonder if there is elven blood running through those veins.

Sir S. J. Erlgadin comes from human aristocracy.  His father, Count Erlgadin, was renowned for his generosity.  It was the Count who lobbied for improved working conditions for the Stonemasons Guild during the restoration of Stormwind after the Second Great War.

In the years that followed after Stormwind betrayed the Stonemasons Guild, Sir Erlgadin grew bitter about the role of the nobles within the Kingdom.  He no longer wished to uphold the position that his father’s bloodline had earned for him in the House of the Nobles.  But I digress.  The purpose of his story is not to act as a political treatise or a biography.  This is the account of my experiences hunting big game in the Green Hills of Stranglethorn.

We rose with the sun.  Barnil began to prepare the morning meal.  I noticed Ajeck’s attention was somewhat distracted.  The day’s trek would be long and our hunt would bring us close to danger.  A lack of focus could easily lead to an errant mishap.  Yet Ajeck seemed unable to divert her gaze from Barnil who stood by the edge of the river rinsing out his mess kit.

Just as I was about to question Ajeck’s lack of interest in the day’s hunting strategy, she reached for her quiver, drew an arrow and unleashed a shot right towards poor Barnil.  But it was not Barnil that Ajeck was shooting at.  For when Barnil stepped aside, mouth agape, a large river crocilisk floated to the surface with Ajeck’s arrow perfectly placed between his two large eyes.

We set out toward the west through the thick overgrowth of the tangled jungle.  Moving with slow deliberate steps we paced through thick foliage in search of prey.  The morning passed in frustrated silence.  Nothing was stirring in the Vale, not even a breeze.  By the afternoon, the expedition had grown restless. Barnil no longer strode with the cautious steps of a predator tracking prey.  Rather, he clumsily clomped along the path often stepping noisily on dried leaves or fallen branches.

During one such misstep, Erlgadin laid a heavy hand on Barnil’s shoulder.  Ajeck and I gave a casual glance.  Assuming the man was simply giving Barnil a much-needed scolding for his carelessness.  Erlgadin, however, gestured slowly with his head toward a nearby fallen tree.  Gazing back at us were two piercing black eyes just above a mouthful of razor sharp fangs.

The beast was a male strangelthorn tiger.  Before I could cock my rifle, Erlgadin raised his crossboaw and fired upon the beast.  The bolt missed its mark and caught the beast heavily in the left flank.  The tiger made a futile attempt to flee but its wound was too grave.  The beast stumbled for a few tragic seconds until Barnil finished the kill with a thrown axe.

The kill brought about a festive mood amongst the expedition.  Barnil poured mead for all to enjoy.  But our festivities were short-lived.  As we were preparing the corpse for transport back to base camp we were all caught off guard by a horrendous growl.  In all my years I have never heard anything so blood curdling.

On a rocky precipice above, silhouetted by the setting sun, I could make out the largest cat of prey I have ever laid eyes upojn.  I was able to loose one clumsy volley with my rifle.  But the cat held his ground.  He growled once again.  This time louder than the first, and vanished.

We gathered our belongings and headed solemnly back to camp.

I had promised the expedition that we would spend the next day hunting panthers, as their furs are in high demand throughout Azeroth.  It only makes sense that such demand should exist with all of the able-bodied hunters, trappers and fur-traders off giving their lives so valiantly in the name of the Alliance.

Ajeck, and Sir Erlgadin were anxious to learn how to hunt effectively with a Dwarven Rifle.  I had the two humans leave their primitive range weapons at base camp.  Barnil and I outfitted them with some of Ironforge’s finest firearms.

On this day we ventured to the south following some fresh panther tracks.  Soon we reached a ravine spanned by a tremendous rope bridge.  I could not help but to think of Brann’s descriptive writings of this region when I saw the engineering marvel.  So often it was assumed that th enative trolls were a primitive and uneducated race.  Yet as I gazed upon the master craftmanship of the bridge I was able to recognize the skill with which the Troll builders overcame the seemingly impossible feat.

Before long, Ajeck tracked the panther to the southwest.  We walked quietly, guns at the ready, in anticipation of our prey.  A snapping of twigs from a nearby copse of trees drew our attention immediately.  Something was in there.  One stern glance at Barnil was enough to convey my thoughts.  Barnil slowly lowered his rifle.  This kill iwas not for us.  It was for our Human companions.  Countless panthers had lost their lives in front of our smoking barrels.  This kill would be for the Humans.

Both Ajeck and Sir Erlgadin stood poised, guns leveled at the bristling overgrowth at the base of the swaying trees.  The midday sun beat heavily upon us.  A slow trickle of perspiration trailed down from Elrgadin’s temple as he pulled the pin back.  Upon the sound of the click, the thick flora parted and a large black panther—a beautiful specimen—darted out onto the plain.

The humans trained their sights on the panther as it ran along the edge of the tree line.  The barrels of their guns moved in perfect parallel tandem.  Barnil gave me an urging glance, but I shook my head no.  This hunt was for the Humans.  Not Barnil or me.  Erlgadin fired a booming shot, missing the panther altogether.  Apparently he was unprepared for the violent kickback of the rifle blast.

His gun tossed back violently in his arms.  The barrel swooped sideways and came up beneath Ajeck’s rifle.  Ajeck had chosen that exact moment to pull her trigger.  The rifle, th eaim now knocked clumsily toward the tree line, went off with a distinct boom.  A flock of birds screamed out of the canopy, scattering in every direction.  A plume of smoke rose from the tree.  We watched in awe as a tremendous branch fell squarely on the fleeing panther, breaking its back.

As the weeks passed our stockpile of panther, and tiger skins grew immense.  I decided it was time for the expedition to shift our focus to a new challenge.  Raptors.

The Humans, while appreciative of the training Barnil and I offered, decided to refrain from hunting with firearms.  Ajeck was much more comfortable with a finely strung bow and Sir Erlgadin never left camp without his sturdy crossbow.

We set out at first light, heading south past the Tkashi Ruins.  Barnil voiced concern that we might encounter members of the Bloodscalp Tribe.  I reminded Barnil that the Bloodscalps were more concerned with destroying their tribal enemy, the Skullsplitters.  Needless to say, Barnil was not comforted in the least.  I, however, had a loaded rifle, a satchel full of gunpowder and three deadly hunters with me to ease any concerns of an unfriendly ambush.

I’ve stood before a towering Infernal on the battlefield, the army of the Burning Legion advancing from all directions.  An unruly band of Trolls seems as harmless as a jackrabbit in the hills of Dun Morogh.

We passed the Tkashi Ruins without event, much to Barnil’s relief.  The party proceeded to head westward toward the Great Sea, skirting the Ruins of Zul’Kunda just to the south.  As we ascended the high sea bluffs we spotted our first raptor.

The beast never so much as detected our presence.  In fact, the only greeting he received from the expedition was a bullet between the eyes.  Sir Erlgadin let out a hearty “hurrah” as Ajeck nodded toward me with keen approval.  I sifted through my pack in search of my pipe hoping to ejoy a celebratory smoke.  Barnil began to scurry up the hillside to retrieve the Raptor’s corpse.  I stared at the fallen beast with the satisfaction that accompanies every big kill.

But I could not bask in the glory of th ekill for long.  For when I turned my eyes toward the horizon, several silhouettes appeared cresting the hill, just above poor Barnil.

“Flee, Barnil!”  I shouted.  Ajeck, Sir Erlgadin and myself loosed a volley of bullets, arrows and bolts over Barnil and toward the pursuing raptors.  One of us landed a kill amidst the confusion.

Our hastily aimed shots were enough to buy Barnil’s escape.  Barnil clamored back down the hill and rejoined the party.  We scurried off into the jungle, a pack of ferocious Lashtail Raptors stalking our every move.

The Hunters were now the hunted.

I led the party toward the sea, hoping the shoreline would provide refuge from the raptors.  In our haste we had drifted too far north to a precariously high elevation.  The mistake was made.  The fault was mine.  We stopped just short of a sheer cliff.  The raptors just a few paces behind.

I stepped slowly forward, gun raised.  I had led these brave hunters to their death.  I would die defending them.  Lashtail Raptors are particularly fierce.  Known for their unrelenting blood-thirst.  They far outnumbered us.  But I would be damned if I let them kill me and my comrades without shedding some of their own blood first.

Ajeck and Sir Erlgadin readied their weapons, flanking me on either side, our backs to the sea.  Barnil let out a defeated sigh and drew his axe.  The lashtails were almost upon us.  Their steady stride had slowed.  They were stalking their prey now for they knew they had us trapped.

And then something miraculous happened.  From off to our side we heard the distinct and terrifying roar of the great white tiger.  Despite their numbers, the raptors turned and scattered in all directions.  We saw but a brief white flash as the tiger darted past us and pounced on one of the raptors.  No command needed to be given.  All four members of our party knew it was time to run.

We sprinted all the way back to base camp, never slowing.  Later that night we sat quetly around the campfire, knowing our lives had been saved by a bizarre twist of fate.  Such are the risks of the big game hunter.  We toy with fate by delivering it.  Yet each of us at some point will face fate’s razor sharp teeth.  This Dwarf is just glad that moment did not come upon the Green Hills of Stranglethorn.

Naxxramas - Letters

Samla,

As we follow our Lord Arthas north, ever north, my heart grows heavy. While he once shined with the Light, I now sense a darkening of the young paladin’s spirit. His zeal is shadowed by a brooding, over some nightmare in his soul that I cannot divine…

We will soon make landfall in the frozen wastes. Although many of his men grow sick from the chill and from battles against putrid beasts, Arthas tells us that what he seeks in the ice will turn the tide of battle. But I took no comfort in his words. For after he said them… the grim smile planted on his curled lips chilled me deeper then any blizzard could. Pray for us, Samla, and pray for our world.

Torgal

A ruined Document, found in the remains of a Ghoul in the Burning Steppes

Dear Pamela,

Tomorrow we make our stand in Andorhal, and I fear this will be my last letter to you, my love. The Undead are unfatigued and we, I fear, are only human. We cannot hold out against them. But fret not, for although we are sure perish, our hope stays strong. The Light will prevail!

And, my dearest, I take comfort knowing that, as those dark terrors storm our walls and crash over us, my last thoughts will not be of death. I will think of you in my arms, and I will know peace at last.

Christoph

Reuben,

I write this letter knowing you may never see it; I simply can’t remain idle, listening to the constant pounding against the Hearthglen walls. The undead are outside our village, unceasing in their assault, and we have been charged with defending the townsfolk until reinforcements arrive.

My leg was broken in the last charge, and so I sit, useless, with my sword at my side should there be a breach in our defenses. There is no idle banter… Only the sounds of fighting and death. The air is thick with fear.

Prince Arthas is here. Fighting on the front lines with the men. Were he not present we would have fallen long ago. His love for this land and its people is infectious; I gladly serve under him, and will to the end of my days.

The fighting grows more intense; broken leg or not. I cannot sit here. Every sword is needed. I hope these words find you in happier times.

Your friend,

Leagrim

Dearest Amelia,

Tonight I have seen things that will haunt me to the end of time.

Stratholme is aflame… and we are responsible.

Our Prince led us into the streets of the city tonight; he ordered us to break into the homes of the townspeople and… kill them in their sleep. They were plagued, claimed Lord Arthas, and had to be killed before they killed us.

It was a slaughter, hundreds died silently to the swords of those sworn to protect them. I could stand it no longer; I fled.

Deserter I may be, but I could not commit such atrocities. In every home I could not help but see your face, or those of our children, upon the victims as they died. If standing against that means being a traitor, then so be it.

I hope to find my way back to you in time, but the roads are unsafe. Give our children my love in my absence.

James

For Immediate Dissemination Unto The Townships of The Kingdom of Lordaeron:

May This Bulletin Serve As Both Warning Unto The General Population of Our Lands, As Well As Writ Of Bounty In Regards To A Most Heinous Orcish Villain and Enemy of The Crown.

It Is To Be Known That A Reward In Sum of No-Less-Than Ten Thousand Gold Coins Shall Be Granted
By The Supreme Commander Of The Alliance, Anduin Lothar Himself, Unto Whosoever Delivers Unto Justice The Identifiable Corpse Of Wolfeye The Doombringer.

Those That Would Seek This Bounty Are Hereby Warned! It Is Said That This Vile Brute Bedecks Himself In The Bloodied Skulls of His Victims and That He Commands A Force Of Foul Orcish Raiders One Hundred Strong!

It Is Advised That Those As Would Seek This Bounty Proceed With Extreme Caution!

Posted By The Order Of

Field Marshall Rorhane

My Emily,

A few short days ago, we broke camp in this Light-forsaken place, operating under the King’s orders to return home. My heart was ligh despite my bleak surroundings, for I knew that after the frigid trek to the shore and long, grueling voyage. I would find solace in your arms.

We reached the shoreline today to find our ships, our means of return, nothing more then charred husks; we cannot leave, and have no choice but to press on into the heart of this abysmal wasteland.

I have gone to the very end of the world to keep you safe, Emily… and now… I wish with all my being that I had remain in Lordaeron with you.

Thoughts of you fill my every waking moment. You are my warmth in the frozen land, beloved, and no one can take that from me.

Maxwell

The Worgen Storyline


The Howling Vale

Sentinel Melyria Frostshadow: “Though we have put many resources and much effort into driving the remaining demons from the Felwood to the north, our successes have been few. We have been able to keep much of the demonic presence from Ashenvale.

To the north, near the Felwood border, the ruined shrine of Mel’Thandris has been overtaken by mysterious wolf-men. Their chilling calls have led the area to be known as the Howling Vale. The Tome of Mel’Thandris kept at the shrine may shed some light on why these wolf-men have come.”

Objective: Go to the Howling Vale and study the Tome of Mel’Thandris, then return to Sentinel Melyria Frostshadow at the Shrine of Aessina.


Velinde Starsong

Sentinel Melyria Frostshadow: “Velinde Starsong was my predecessor here in Ashenvale Forest. At first it seemed she had the situation in Felwood under control, but little by little her efforts faltered. One day, she simply disappeared.

I was sent here to continue her work. I’m afraid I know nothing of the priestess, however. Perhaps Thyn’tel Bladeweaver, one of the commanders of the Sentinels, knows further details of her disappearance that I was not a party to.

Surely she will understand the import of such information.”

Objective: Speak with Thyn’tel Bladeweaver at the Warrior’s Terrace in Darnassus.


Velinde’s Effects

Thyn’tel Bladeweaver: “The Tome of Mel’Thandris showed you this? I suppose there would be little harm in allowing you to examine her belongings. This key will allow you to open the chest where we stored her things in the Sentinels’ bunkhouse. She kept a journal of her duties, if there is anything to be learned, it will be from that.

I should tell you, the Sentinels believe that she had her own reasons for leaving, and expect that she could return at any time. The priestess has done much in the past to earn our trust.”

Objective: Search through Velinde’s chest for her journal, then return it along with the key to Thyn’tel Bladeweaver in Darnassus.

NOTE: The book is at Velinde’s bedroom on the second floor of the Inn. Go to the Mail Armor vendor shop in the Tradesmans’ Terrace in Darnassus city (Teldrassil).  Go upstairs and walk across the bridge toward the Inn’s second floor. On a shelf is a chest that requires the key given by Thyn’tel.  Inside the chest is Velinde’s journal.


From the journal of Moonguard Sentinel Velinde Starsong

Elune has granted my wishes. The lives of my fallen comrades will not be in vain, and I shall avenge their deaths using the Scythe of Elune. It is an ancient thing, a branch, twisted and gnarled of wood that could be older than even the Kaldorei.

For many hours I examined the tool that the goddess granted to me. It is no ordinary weapon, that is for certain, nor is it a simple magical implement. With it… it is as though the barriers of time and space are weakened.

Holding the Scythe in my hands, I received a vision of chaos. Wolf-men… the worgen… battled an incredible enemy. The worgen fought savagely, as fit their primitive race, but their enemy was unflinching: the Lords of the Emerald Flame.

And that was when I realized the true power of the Scythe. By focusing on it, I became able to communicate with the worgen. It was not speech I used to contact them, however. It was something different… I could not describe it.

What mattered was that the worgen heard and understood me. By further channeling the energy of the Scythe, the barriers weakened more, and I was able to draw the worgen into our world. A score and a half I was able to summon in my first attempt. They followed me into battle, and with their brutish strength at my command, we tore into the demons of Felwood.

Elune has granted my wishes. The forest will be cleansed.

May Elune’s blessings be upon me until my work is done.

All goes well. I have summoned larger numbers of the worgen to fight at my side. THough they are of simple mind, they have shown impressive ability to coordinate their attacks and function as a group.

I have identified leaders in their packs. To them I have given command of small groups of warriors. We strike from many places in the forest at once, and my campaign against the demons is a fruitful one.

May Elune’s blessings be upon me until my work is done.

A pack is lost. I sent the worgen to range through the forest and identify areas of demonic infestation, but they did not return. I begin to worry about the leaders that I have entrusted control to. They are of simple mind, and this small bit of authority I have given them, they stretch to the utmost. Am I losing control. Perhaps I shall cease summoning additional worgen for the time being.

May Elune’s blessings be upon me until my work is done.

Though I have not summoned additional worgen, their numbers continue to increase. It is as though the Scythe no longer requires my intervention for the summoning process. This is troubling. I have gathered as many as the packs as I could find, and ordered them to remain at the Shrine of Mel’Thandris.

Meanwhile, I have searched the libraries in Darnassus and consulted with the Circle of Ancients in Darkshore. Not one scrap of information about these worgen did I find. I have heard reports, whispers, of a wizard of the Kirin Tor named Arugal. From what I have heard, it is possible that he also summoned worgen. I would consult with this wizard—distasteful as it may be—and see what he knows.

The worgen are dangerous, and I wish to stem the tide. On the morrow, I will travel to the port in the Barrens and book passage to the New World.

May Elune’s blessings be upon me until my work is done.


The Barrens Port

Thyn’tel Bladeweaver: “Ratchet is the only port in the Barrens. Most likely Velinde found a trading vessel in Ratchet to take her to Blackwater Cove in Azeroth. We’ve had limited dealings with the goblins that run the port, but the master of the dock should have information about the comings and goings of ship passengers.

Follow the road southeast through Ashenvale and you will find yourself in the Barrens. Watch your step, , warriors of the Horde patrol the land. You will be safe at the port, though.”

Objective: Speak with Wharfmaster Dizzywig in Ratchet.


Passage to Booty Bay

Wharfmaster Dizzywig (goblin): “Ah yes, finally found it. Should have told me she passed through here that long ago. Let’s see.

Velinde. Booked passage to Booty Bay on the Black Osprey. I don’t have anything here saying otherwise, so I’d assume it arrived in port safely.

Not much more help I can be to you, but she asked about overland travel over on that side of the world, and I mentioned Ruzzgot, a caravan driver based out of Booty Bay. Might be that this Velinde traveled with him.

Move along, now. I haven’t all day for you.”

Objective: Take a boat to Booty Bay and speak with Caravaneer Ruzzgot.


The Caravan Road

Caravaneer Ruzzgot: “Turns out I was wrong about you, and that isn’t something that happens everyday.

It just so happens that I remember this Velinde you’re looking for. Isn’t every day that a night elf priestess that wants to travel with a dirty old—but great for your shipping needs!—caravan like my own.

We split up on the way north, she was headed for Darkshire. The clerk there keeps all sorts of records. Might know something useful.

Be careful in the jungle, it is a deadly place even at the best of times.”

Objective: Speak with Clerk Daltry in Darkshire.


The Carevin Family

Clerk Daltry: “No, I don’t have any records of a Velinde Starsong staying in Darkshire… though, if you don’t mind me saying, I can hardly imagine a night elf priestess taking a room in the inn, if you get my meaning?

These wolf-men you mentioned though, that’s something I’ve heard about. Just the other day, Calor came into town with a string of their heads. He works with the Carevin family. Hunters of demons, undead, and other monstrosities. Speak with Jonathan, he’s the head of the household.”

Objective: Speak with Jonathan Carevin in Darkshire.


The Scythe of Elune

Jonathan Carevin: “Your story rings true… I do not entirely understand your motives, but if your business here in Duskwood involves ridding the forest of worgen in any number, then I can forgo understanding for results.

There is a mine to the south that has been overrun with worgen… They appeared out of nowhere, but from what we know, that is where they first were found.

Go about your business, but I would ask that if you find anything of import, you share it with me. We will accept any aid in our war against evil.”

Objective: Look for signs of the Scythe of Elune then return to Jonathan Carevin in Darkshire.

HINT: Go to Roland’s Doom Mine in Duskwood. The cave is between the Rotting Orchard and the Tranquil Gardens cemetary in southern Duskwood. Deep inside the cave is a mound of dirt on the ground. Interact with it.  The Spirit of Velinde will talk to you:

Velinde Starsong’s Ghost: “I have failed … I have failed in my duty … failed my people … The Worgen run rampant, and the Scythe of my goddess is lost”


Answered Questions

Jonathan Carevin: “We shall rein in the worgen problem, have no worry of that. This evil that your friend introduced to our woods will be contained, and I bear her no ill will for her actions. Strange events are afoot in these times, , and the darkness knows no respite.

I will keep you no longer. I suspect that there are others that should hear of what you have found in the mines of Duskwood.”

Objective: Return to Thyn’tel Bladeweaver in Darnassus.

Warden Belamoore: Dalaran Research Journal

When killing Warden Belamoore in the Dalaran Internment Camp she drops a journal book:

Kegan Darkmar, leader of the small group of undead who came to us in search of asylum from their brethren, defies our common attitudes toward his kind.  His skin may be rotting and blood may have long stopped flowing through his veins, but he acts very nobly and seems to care more for his compatriots’ safety than his own.

Indeed, there is a humanity within him that, I confess I sometimes see lacking in the humans around me.

But why do I mention this?  I do so to give credence to what I am about to write.  For these words came from Regan’s lips and it is my hope that my colleagues will.  Upon reading this journal, know why I believe what he said.

Remnants of the Old gods still linger in the deep hollows of the world.  New forces seek to harness that ancient power, and those who succeed will have a terrible weapon against their enemies.

That is what Kegan uttered as he handed his bloodstone pendant to me.  And there was fear, and maybe reverence, in his eyes as he did so.  And as his hands met with mine they lingered, as if reluctant to give up the pendant.  Revulsion swept through me.  Yet to this day I know not if I reviled against his dead flesh pressed to mine, or if the pendant itself made my skin crawl.

For I felt a power within it.  A deep hidden hungry power.  And one yearning for release.

Although my colleagues in Dalaran were cautious to study the bloodstones that Kegan and his followers brought with them, instead quarantining the four refugees and leaving the bloodstones on their persons, the sincerity of Kegan obliged me to study his bloodstone pendant.

My hopes were to verify for my colleagues tha this type of stone did possess magical properties.  And if we wizards of Dalaran did not wish to exploit the power of bloodstones, we should at the least learn their properties, since our foes may one day use them against us.

And so my studies began.

I started my tests with the assumption that bloodstone was a type of rock like quartz or obsidian.  So I began a series of procedures to determine what minerals were contained within bloodstone.  What forces were applied to produce its color and hardness, and other properties common to rocks, and ore.  But the bloodstone pendant, to my frustration, did not react to my procedures as would normal ore.

In fact, it often acted in precisely the opposite fashion as expected.  It was almost as if the pendant was deliberately fouling my experiments.

Like it was thinking, and alive.

Angered but not discouraged, I switched from assuming the pendant was an inert piece of rock, to assuming it was a living thing.

But again, I failed.

None of my new tests brought to light any revelations of the origin of bloodstone.  At the time the only riddle I solved was that bloodstone was neither living, nor dead!

But it was then, at the brink of failure, that a breakthrough was made.  My latest test involved a glass beaker, whose brim was chipped.  Leaving a small, jagged space along its edge.  When the test was over again revealing nothing, I went to clean my worktable and cut myself on the beaker.

The cut was not deep but nevertheless bled fiercely.  Before I could wrap my injured finger in a bandage, a good deal of my blood had spilled on my worktable.

And as I was cleaning up this new mess, I noticed the strangest thing.

The blood that had spilled near the bloodstone pendant was slowly moving toward the piece of jewelry.  As if gravity had somehow bent itself toward the bloodstone, the blood that touched the pendant seemed to disappear, and the red color of the stone deepened as it drank more of my blood.

After seeing this, my head grew light.  Perhaps from my recent injury (though I did not believe I had lost that much blood) or perhaps because I had finally, after so much frustration uncovered one of the bloodstone’s properties.  I reached behind me for my work stool and sat down, pondering.  Thoughts and questions raced through my head dizzying and threatening to topple me.

Does bloodstone drink blood?  Does it crave blood?  Does it attract blood?

Or, is bloodstone made of blood?  And if so, then whose blood?  Mine?  The blood of any human?  Any animal?

Or maybe bloodstone is the blood of some unknown thing, the very thing that Kegan had both feared and revered when he handed me his pendant.

That is the question that must be answered.  It is the key.

Fire rekindled within me.  I then dove back into my experiments.  This time I made no assumptions.  Methodically performing every test at my disposal. This increased my required efforts tremendously. But I would be more likely to make discoveries.

And, although my lab here is small and I have no subordinates to spare to aid, I did find one more intriguing quality of bloodstone.

In addition to blood, there are elemental forces fused within the stone.  Fire, water, thunder, and rock are mixed with the blood (But again, the blood of what?).  And although this mixture is outwardly inert, all these forces seem to rage inwardly against each other.  So many more questions were then raised about this amazing and foreboding material.

But to answer those questions, more studies and experiments must be performed on the pendant, and I fear tha the Lordamere Internment Camp cannot marshal the manpower nor the equipment for the task.  So I sent the bloodstone pendant with a courier to Dalaran with specific instructions on how to test it, so they may avoid my earlier frustrations.

As I waited for the results of these tests, I spent my time speaking to Kegan.  Although I constantly pressed him for what he knew about bloodstones, he never told me more than what he said the day he gave me his pendant.  And he did not often speak of his time within the fold of what he called “The Forsaken”, which is the name he calls his clan of undead.

But Kegan was very eager to speak on other subjects, particularly his time growing up in Lordaeron before its fall.

He still holds much love for that lost kingdom.  Even though it is now ruined and dead.

My growing fondness for Kegan gave me patience as I waited for my test results.

But after weeks of no news my patience faltered, and upon further inquires to Dalaran, I learned that the bloodstone never reached my colleagues.  My courier was somehow lost on the way, and the bloodstone pendant was lost with him!

This is grave news for although Kegan and his followers still have bloodstone specimens with which we may experiment.  I fear the pendant may fall into unsavory hands.

I have sent another messenger to Dalaran, and hear that even now they are scouring for the pendant, in the ruins outside our protective sphere.

I only hope we’re not too late.


Quest Related: Prison Break In

Find the traitors and recover their artifacts, then return to Magus Voidglare in Tarren Mill.

Bloodstone Wedge
Bloodstone Marble
Bloodstone Shard
Bloodstone Oval

I came to Tarren Mill to research, but now must resolve a crisis. You see, four Forsaken fled the Undercity a few months ago. They turned their backs on their brethren, but what’s worse … they stole from the Dark Lady.
These thieves broke into a secure vault and stole four artifacts, items our apothecaries required in certain studies. Sylvanas would have these artifacts returned.
The thieves fled the Undercity to Dalaran, and those wizards quarantined them in the Lordamere Internment Camp.

World of Warcraft - The Loa gods Lore

The Trolls draw power for their Voodoo Magics by performing rituals and invoking the Primal gods or Forest spirits: the Loa gods.  According to Warcraft RPG: Magic and Mayhem, the Loa spirits are more powerful than the Elementals, but not as powerful as gods.

The Shadow Hunters’ faith and communion with the Loa gods grants them shadow and healing magic and other abilities. Shadow Hunters learn magic that hinders enemies and aid allies, gaining a unique mix of spells that delve into the more occult aspects of the Loa

Among the known Loa gods are:

Shadra – Spider Loa

Shirvallah – Tiger Loa

Bethekk – Panther Loa

Hir’eek – Bat Loa

Mueh’zala
The Tablet of Theka says Mueh’zala is the God of Death.

Loa Zanza
He appears in Zul’Gurub Instance as an ethereal form within one of the many temples. The Arcanums created from the various tomes originated from Troll magic were stolen from Zanza by the High Elves, and used against his people.  The Trolls of Yojamba Isle, the Zandalar Tribe, respect and venerate Loa Zanza.  However, with the rebirth of Hakkar the Soulflayer, these Zandalar Trolls prayed to Zanza to grant powers to heroes of other races to defeat Hakkar in Zul’Gurub.

The Loa Legba
He is a master of swift motion. Through him, the shadow hunter learns to move with great speed granting the ability of Batltle Stride.

Loa Lukou
The Loa of healing and respite, she grants the ability to heal allies with a Healing Wave. With a word, the Shadow Hunter invokes healing with a wave of soothing light.

Loa Ogoun
The Loa of war who grants the Shadow hunter the Hex ability to place dire curses upon his enemies. This Loa ability allows Shadow Hunters to turn an enemy into a frog.

Loa Dambala
The Loa of serpents and treachery, Loa Dambala teaches the shadow hunter to move swiftly and quietly by changing his shape into a serpent or snake. Shadow hunters can change form to serpent or back to normal for an hour or when he wishes to turn back.

Loa Samedi
The Loa of cemeteries and the restful sleep of the dead. The undead are an abomination in his eyes. The shadow hunter can cast Smite againts a undead creature.

Loa Shango
The Loa that controls the realm of storms. Shango guards the secrets of lightning and mayhem. The Shadow Hunter may channel the fury of Shango, unleashing a lighting bolt named Stormspear, that does electricity damage.

A troll in Zul’Gurub calls the name of another who might be another Loa god: Hethiss.  Supposedly a loa of serpents.  However, Ula-Tek is also referred as a serpent goddess.

The Shrine of Ula-Tek is located in Zul’Aman.  Zul’Aman will be an instanced region in World of Warcraft: Burning Crusade.  Zul’Aman is located northeast of Light’s Hope (Eastern Plaguelands) and Southeast of Quel’Thalas.

Troll Tablets

Altar of Zanza
We call upon you, Zanza of Zuldazar.

Bless those that ask for your help.  Loa Zanza.  Bless those that would ally with the Zandalarian people.

Aid us in this time of need.  Aid us Loa.  Give us the power to strike down our enemies.  Give us the power to once more defeat the Blood god.
Thanks Sarakesh

We will update this section as more info of the Loa   becomes available.

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