Illidan emerges from the upper level of the Black Citadel and walks into the Terrace. Suddenly a fiery storm cracks across the red sky of Outland.
Prince Kael’thas: What is this, Vashj? Where did this storm come from?
Lady Vashj: Keep your head down, fool! Something terrible is drawing near!
Kil’jaeden: Foolish little mongrel. You failed to destroy the Frozen Throne as I commanded. And still you thought to hide from me in this forsaken back water! I thought you to be more cunning, Illidan.
Illidan Stormrage: Kil’jaeden! I was merely set back. I was attempting to bolster my forces. The Lich King will be destroyed. I promise you!
Kil’jaeden: Indeed? Still, these servitors you’ve gathered show some promise. I will give you one last chance, Illidan. Destroy the Frozen Throne, or face my eternal wrath!
Lady Vashj: The naga are yours to command, Lord Illidan. Where you go, we follow.
Prince Kael’thas: The blood elves are yours, as well, master. We will drive the Scourge before us—and shatter the Frozen Throne as you command.
