Prophecy Made, Doom Foretold

It's difficult to bring people to action about the end of the world now-a-days.

Last month I visited BlizzCon to warn all the most important people about Deathwing and now, a month later, people are still worried about the frozen zombie locked in his citadel. Don't get me wrong, the Lich King is a grave threat. But, guys! Worldwide cataclysm! C'mon, now. You can't tell me you're not concerned about that. I tell you Deathwing is about to show up and what do you do? You rush back into his daughter's lair to make sure she's dead, and then you go right back to Icecrown. Really?? You're not gonna storm Deepholm and get Deathwing while he's down?? Sure, the way might be blocked for now, but I'm sure a few gobblin explosives or gnomish drills should do the trick.

When I warned Thrall of the impending doom of the Burning Legion, he didn't sit around in anticipation. He took action! He rallied the Horde and moved out to Kalimdor! I'm beginning to think that maybe all adventurers are humans in essence. It was the humans of Lordaeron who would not listen to me and went about their business. And were, thus, destroyed.

Some time after the convention, I made a trip to Gilneas to warn them of the impending doom. Just a few select people who didn't really know who I was. Greymane wouldn't hear me. He swore his wall would stand forever. I've never faced such opposition to a prophecy before. It's like everyone is completely ignoring the boulder that they can clearly see tumbling down the hill.

By the way, it strikes me that the Gilneans, now turned into Worgen, will be accepted by the Alliance as ones whose unfortunate fate had turned those who were once human into monsters. Which is pretty much the same story as the Forsaken, who were denounced by the Alliance. Why is that? Is it because puppies are more cuddly than zombies?

Anyway...

DOOM AND CATACLYSM AND PERIL! yadda yadda yadda...

Just c'mon... I mean, at least send some scouts over Hyjal to check out that area. Humor me.

On Cheating

Ok, I've been catching a lot of flack for the way in which I run chess games. Aparently, it's not appreciated when you try to make things interesting by healing the king, speeding things up or catching peices on fire. Normally I would agree that changing the rules of the game mid-game is an unfair way to win. But I'd like to address a folly in the way people approah my particular brand of chess.

Let's be clear from the very start: this is not your average game of chess. From the very begining it's clear that you're playing by completely different rules - house rules - my rules. The rules are made clear before you start and they include: "WARNING: expect the unexpected!" Which is pretty redundant now since people always expect me to "cheat."

That's another thing. "Cheat" is just a term I use for another aspect of the game. An aspect I use to raise the stakes when things are becoming a little more interesting than I had expected. The average player can't go for more than, say, 5 minutes against me. But when I meet a player with exceptional skill I like to make the game a little more advanced - a little more challenging - a little more... heroic. I may use the term "cheat" but it's no more actual cheating than an enemy on the field of battle coming at you with more strength and numbers than you expected.

If you dislike the game and the rules the way I play them, then, by all means, feel free to skip it. But I've always seen it as a fun and rewarding way to piss off my tenent, Malchazzar. He hates it when I let people up onto the roof.

The Secret Life of Mages

You may have noticed I haven't updated in a while. This is not an accident. You see, before I was resurrected I was pretty seclusive, only coming out of Karazahn when someone needed some official guardian business. Even when I came back during the Third War, I may have addressed several people, but I never got directly involved. (That was the point, after all... if Azeroth doesn't need guardians, then my getting involved would defeat the purpose.) I had started thinking that perhaps my affinity for the shadow of secrecy was due to the influence of Sargeras, and so I started reaching out a bit more... getting a Twitter account and starting an online journal and so forth. I have recently realized, however, that there was a reason no one really thought it was entirely odd that a mage such as myself locked himself away in his tower for so long. Mages always do that. Mages have secrets. Their mysterious ways are directly related to the danger involved in their studies. A single misspoken word of power could bring down a well-built castle wall.

I have, therefore, decided to step back only slightly from my mainstream activity on the Internet. Only slightly, I reiterate. Because if I accidentally let out the incantation for a spell that destroys an entire city I would never forgive myself. It would undo all I have done to repay for my past actions. I will, however, release clues to my activities that the learned among you will be able to pick up on. They will be hidden in cryptic messages, journal entries and tweets that only the wisest and most worthy of my followers will be able to decipher. And they will often lead to some sort of pay-off.

When I have a story to tell, I will tell it. When I have a recipe to share, I will share it. But in keeping with the time-honored traditions of mages everywhere, my arcane activities will remain veiled in secrecy. Good luck to those who wish to follow in my path.

Observations

When I tell people I can see the future, it's often misunderstood. So I rarely do. What I "see" is less an image than it is a feeling, or a strong intuition. Oftentimes, my journeys are based on these intuitions. I get a feeling about what is in the future for Azeroth, and so I investigate in order to give them a clear warning beyond the simple "HUMANITY IS IN PERIL!" spiel. But there are times when my mind is silent and the voices of the future fail to reach my spirit. In these times, I often study the current age and make predictions about what will occur based on extrapolation. In recent studies, a few things occur to me:

1) Murlocs are a formidable race.
Hear me out. Since the discovery of these creatures, every sentient being has been out to get them. They even once threatened to wipe out the Darkspear Trolls until Thrall and the rest of the Orcs came along to help them out. Part of me believes that the Murlocs are just as intelligent as any of the Horde or Alliance races, though inability to decipher their language makes it impossible to be sure. On the one hand, the ability to translate a complex string of guttural noises into understandable ideas represents an uncanny ability to structure a intriguing language. On the other hand, these noises may just be random and they're as dumb as a forest toad. In either case, they have thrived despite several attempts at their genocide. I would not be surprised if they eventually represent an integral part of Azerothian history.

2) Adventurers rely too heavily on gear.
There are copious amounts of enchanted gear to be found or crafted around Azeroth. But gear alone does not make a worthy adversary. It takes skill and cunning to break through your opponent's gear and win an honorable victory. It pains me to observe those who have honed their abilities to the highest level, only to wield such abilities like a child with a knife. They believe they are worthy to face Yogg-Saron alone in battle when they could easily be taken out by a well-geared murloc. Just because you hold Life and Death in your hand, young mage, does not mean you have the wherewithal to use it. Sit down, fool! And learn from your betters!

3) Gnomish technology is destroying the world more efficiently than Sargeras.
I will admit that it's fun to sit at my Netherbox all day and Tweet the friends I have made online, but how much is too much? Eventually you must communicate face-to-face. There is much to be gained by in-person communication that will never be transmitted electronically. And if you sit all day in front of a glowing screen, the Lich King is sure to win. Your mind will be even more easily pliable once he raises you into his scourge army. Go out and accomplish some real quests! Damn hoolagins!

4) I still don't know if I'm a father.
Can anyone update me on this? I'm positive that damn Brighteyes was never concieved by my seed, but Med'an... well, let's just say it's within my best interests to know for sure...

5) Why hasn't anyone been back to Hyjal since the battle?
I thought about checking it out once or twice, but something else always came up. Sure, you can visit it through the Caverns of Time, but it's just not the same. Rather, it is exactly the same... as it was during the battle... because it is the battle... which is to say, it's not the same as it is today... I do hope I'm not confusing anyone. Time travel is inharently a confusing subject. Regardless, someone should really be checking things out up there. Elune knows what kind of evils may be stirring up in the ruins of Archimonde's carcass.

These are just a few of the observations I've made while on hiatus from adventuring. Talk back to me. Tell me what kinds of things interest you in Azeroth.

The Maelstrom (part 8)

Many very powerful beings make use of avatars for various reasons. Sargeras made one to trick my mother into thinking she could defeat him. Yogg'Saron made one named Sara to lure adventurers into his lair. There are plenty of reasons to make an avatar, but to do it right one needs access to tremendous amounts of magical power and energy. You can make an avatar look like whatever you want and perform whatever task you need done, but the one thing that really makes an avatar and avatar is the fact that it is connected to its creator. Connected is not strong enough a word, though. The fabric of the avatar's being is intrinsically woven into its creator's mind.

As we stood outside the door of Queen Azshara's chamber I briefly wished I'd had an avatar to go in my place. The queen is an ancient and powerful being, as beautiful as she is deadly. As leader of the Kaldorei, no man could resist her charms. It was said that she made use of some powerful spells to enhance her perceived charm. If I had an avatar, he would be immune to such spells. I could enter into her presence without fear of being swayed by her charms.

But that was thouands of years ago. Did she retain such charms as leader of the Naga? Did she even retain her beauty? Or was she a hideous, twisted shadow of her former self?

The chamber doors opened and the maid beckoned us inside. What she said sent a chill down my spine.

"She'd been expecting you."

I almost refused to enter. But that would render my entire journey pointless. I looked at Sharaniss. He nodded and entered without reservation. That put me at some sort of ease. For about three seconds.

Sharaniss entered before me. As I passed over the threshhold, the first words I heard out of the mouth of Azshara were "It's good to see you again, Ith'Quorel."

My brow furrowed. To my knowledge, the only one who had just entered the room besides me was named Sharaniss. Indeed, as I entered the room I saw only Sharaniss and Azshara...

Azshara! Indeed, her beauty had not been defiled by the ages of arcane change! Her face lit the room, and snakes fell gracefully down her petite neck coming to a halt upon her ample bosom. Her arms, just as graceful, protruded from four parts of her stunning torso which blended into a winding tale that formed a sort of nest. A couch for her to lay upon comfortably. The Light of Lights, she truly was. But part of me wondered if my admiration for her was merely the effect of one of her spells.

"Enter, Prophet," she said, "Tell me your message."

I had been thinking of what to tell her. Something that would convince her to see me through to the Rift. I was unsure if it would work, but I tried. "Light of Lights," I said, "I am old and dying. History tells us of the Well of Eternity, a powerful source of magic discovered by your people millennia ago. I seek this Well."

When she smiled, my heart lept. I felt I might die by sheer excitement! But her condescending tone quickly quelled my longing heart. "A fair story. But you needed lie. Ith'Quorel has told me the truth."

"Forgive me," I said, "But I know this Naga as Sharaniss."

Sharaniss spoke up: "I may have lied about my name before," he said. "You understand, I did not know if you were friend or foe." His tone was shifty and suggestive. I felt like I never knew him at all. Like he was lying at this very moment.

"I was a fool to trust you," I said.

"Most humans are fools," Ith'Quorel responded.

"Wait!" Azshara cut in. Her eyes were crazed. Her gaze shifted as though trying to catch a thought. "I sense... I sense... Him..."

"I was right, then," Ith'Quorel said, a smile on his face.

"No..." she said with a snarl, "You weren't."

For the first time she rose from her position and swam to me. She put her nose in my face. Her eyes glowed like bright blue torches. They peirced my being and searched my soul. Searched for something they could not find.

"He is not here," she said at last, rage building in her beautiful face, "HE IS NOT HERE!!!"

My mind raced. In an instant I knew what she was talking about. There was only one person who, looking into my eyes, you could possibly be looking for and not find. Quietly, I whispered: "You mean Sargeras..."

She ignored me and addressed Ith'Quorel. "You told me He resided within the body of this mortal! You've lied to me!"

"I did not lie to you!" Ith'Quorel demanded in a surprisingly insolent tone. "Magus Medivh is the body that houses the fallen Titan, Sargeras!"

"You are mistaken!" I spoke loud as I could, "The demon that once inhabited my spirit no longer troubles me! Sargeras has been defeated! I stand before you as living proof!"

Behind Ith'Quorel was a window with a heavy drape over it. The Naga that I believed I knew snarled and let out a roar as he violently opened the large window. It led out into the Rift. Light streamed into the chamber. The torrent of the storm raged outside and blew loudly into my ears. It is into this bright, violent, arcane storm that Ith'Quorel jumped and was out of my sight.

I turned to face the queen whose face was uncharacteristically shaken. She was staring out the window. Then she turned to glare at me.

I tried painfully to speak above the noise of the storm. "What could you possibly want with Sargeras!?"

"My new master promised retribution!" she said, "And you have robbed me of it!" Menacingly, she drew nearer. I stood my ground.

"If you saught the death of Sargeras, then we have a common enemy! We could band together and stop death and destruction around Azeroth together!"

"You fool! Sargeras' death would only have been the first!"

Azshara swung her tail at me! I was able to duck, but the tidal force it brought with it carried me to smack against a far wall. I recovered quickly and readied a spell. Buffering it in my mind, I taunted my opponent: "I won't be the next, octopus."

A barrage of arcane force flowed from my hands and struck Azshara square in the belly. Wave after wave of missiles pushed her farther and farther back, screaming with each blow. I swam as quickly as I could toward the window, but she caught me in her tail and brought me closer to her.

I concentrated, and a wave of force emanated from my person, weakening her grip and allowing me to slip away. She tried to close her window with the magical force of her own mind, but I was ready with a fireblast that pushed through the window and allowed me access to the outside.

I was inside the Rift! I could feel its magical energies flow through me like an untamed cascade! Brightly it shown even up onto the surface! Above me, in the distance, I could see the swirling tip of an underwater tornado! The glass from the broken window, shattered, flew around me like butterflies around a flower. They eventually fell down into the Rift. The walls of earth that were formed by the explosion of the Well of Eternity all those years go seemed to lift their hands in praise of an unseen god. But as my gaze fell into the core of the Rift... I did see it.

A tentacle rose from out of the canyon, and I heard Azshara laugh! It struck me, but unwilling to to be thrown against the edges of the Rift, I grabbed it and held on for dear life. When it came to stop, I let go and realized I was being pulled farther and farther down. The walls of the Rift rose higher and higher above me, and as I looked down I stared straight into a single, gigantic eye!

I tried swimming, but I was not strong enough. Farther I fell until I realized, the only thing that would get me out of this was magic. I drew from the Rift more magic than I had ever used. I pulled at the fabric of the arcane and let it flow through my very being like music through a grand master. The water, no, reality itself bent around me and just as a tentacle was wrapping itself around my center, I released the spell, blowing the tentacle to a thousand pieces and propelling me up, up, up to the surface of the ocean!

As upward I traveled, I felt the force of the changing water pressure threatening to tear me apart. I drew even more magic from the Rift and created a shield of water around me so tight it would maintain the pressure of the depth from which I came until I was able to slowly release the shield.

I was free. As I broke the surface, I flew up into the center of the Maelstrom, the eye of the storm. The only place in the Great Sea that is completely calm, save for the twirling waters beneath. For a moment, I allowed myself to float in mid air. I looked around at the eye wall. The storm raged around me, but I was at piece within my shield of water. I knew what the Naga felt. For deep with my core I felt a singular dread, despite my safe position.

Azeroth must be warned. Eventually. Their troubles need not be compounded at the moment. But through this journal, let it be known: if we seek peace on our planet, our task will not be completed in Northrend. If at all.

The Maelstrom (part 7)

It has been generally accepted that Naga look like aquatic dragon-ish, snakes with no legs and sometimes a few too many arms. There are slight variations, for example snakes for hair, large fins, shells, etc. However, the male of the species tend to be the dumber, stronger ones while the female tend to be the more intelligent leaders. Because of this, the males always look bulkier while the females have a more petite frame. And when the mouse roars at the lion, the lion jumps.

Three 7-foot-tall, lionesque Naga with shell-like helmets swam in my direction at the behest of what looked like a serpentine maid. I was certain of two things: 1) these were non-magic users; easily beaten if I could keep them at a distance. 2) Sharaniss had fled. I did not see him run off, but I held little doubt that when confronted by the guards of his own government, he would rather flee than be faced with treason charges.

I conjured up a ball of arcane energy that should be sufficiently powerful to knock back all three of the brutes in one swing. I was trying to think of something clever to say when at that moment someone else said something for me.

"WAIT!" It was Sharaniss. Not very clever, but the brutes did stop in their tracks. I smiled, knowing that Sharaniss was more loyal to me than I had thought. This is when I noticed that Sharaniss was not like the other Naga. He was a male magic user, a rare combination among Naga in itself, but he was also less bulky than the other males, and he seemed to be rather intelligent.

"This human is my prisoner!" he said, challenging my conclusion on his intelligence, "He has important information for the Queen herself!"

The three brutes looked at each other, confused. But the tiny female maid knew what to do. She stepped forward and challenged Sharaniss.

"Give me the information and I will relay it to Her Majesty," she said.

"Forgive me, ma'am," Sharaniss replied, "but the information resides within the ring he carries. This ring also allows him to breathe in our atmosphere. If he were to take it off, he would die without safe passage to the surface. He must deliver it himself. Do not worry, I will assure that he doesn't get into any trouble."

The maid glared at us. I attempted to hide a smirk. This Naga was, indeed, clever. None of the male Naga who had made it to the surface to help Illidan had come even close to this level of intelligence. Perhaps it was in Azshara's best interest to keep the smartest behind.

"Alright," the maid finally said, "But I will accompany you."

"You will, of course, announce us to the Queen?" Sharaniss asked.

"Of course."

As we set on our way, I made sure we kept several steps behind the maid so that I could discuss the matter with my Naga companion. "I appreciate what you did," I said, "But I do not wish to actually see Azshara. That would not end well."

"I didn't expect her to accompany us," Sharaniss said, "I guess I should have, since the Queen welcomes females with more respect than males, but I had to think quickly, not precisely."

"Why did you help me?" I asked him.

"You are the first human I have ever seen. The first many of us have seen. We had been lead to believe that you were a stupid, warring race that has no place in Nazjatar. But I don't see that in you. The fact that you let me live proves you are intelligent and benevolent. I don't know whether you represent your entire race, but if you alone are half the being I sense you to be, I wish to be considered your friend."

Beside me swam an intelligent, well-spoken, magic-using male Naga. Never in all my days did I think I would stand in the presense of such a being. In some ways I counted myself a fool for believing such a being didn't exist. Swiming the hallways of this palace, I smiled at my new alliance.

It wasn't long before we were close to the Queen's Chambers. We stopped in front of a huge, ornate door with the same emblem that was on my conjured ring.

"Wait here," said the maid, and she opened the door, moved swiftly through it, and closed it behind her.

We stood there, unmoving. It was a perfect chance to escape, but Sharaniss stood silently considering other options.

"This is the chamber that opens into the Rift, isn't it?" I asked, knowing the answer.

"Yup," said Sharaniss.

And so we stood. Waiting to gain an audience with the Light of Lights, Queen Azshara of Nazjatar.

The Maelstrom (Part 6)

I stepped up to the gate. Two burly guards attempted to intimidate me with their glares. They might have stopped me if it weren't for two factors: Sharaniss was behind me, and I had a ring bearing the symbol of Azshara. It was still interesting that they let me alone, however. I expected them to at least open the gate.

"The gate is not locked," Sharaniss explained as he slithered ahead of me and opened it. "As I said, don't be fooled."

I walked up to the gateway curiously and reached my hand out. With my hand straight in front of me, I took one more step and my hand stopped on an invisible surface. The force of my hand created a purple ripple emanating from my hand to what appeared to be a huge dome much like the one that used to be over Dalaran during the reconstruction. The difference here was that it was invisible to the eye until touched.

I put the ring on my finger and touched the dome again. It seemed to bend a little to my touch. If my theory was correct, I could open the dome with a direct touch of the ring. I clenched my hand into a fist and touched the ring to the dome.

The water shook around us. For a moment I wondered if I had done the wrong thing. I recoiled my fist and a ring-shaped hole was where my fist was. The hole grew and I felt a sort of pulling. Tidal forces were trying to push us inside the dome. The pressure of the water must not have been quite as great inside. If the pressure of water worked anything like the pressure of air, I knew why. The great swirling forces of the magic shooting from the Rift caused the water to move more quickly within the dome, lessening the pressure and probably giving the dome more work to do.

I swam back away from the dome, but as the hole grew larger, I felt myself being tugged in. I was sure this was how it was supposed to work, however, so I allowed it. With a nod to my Naga companion, I plunged head-first into the hole and Sharaniss came with me. As soon as we were through, the hole closed again.

On the inside of the dome I could not keep my footing. The tidal wind was so strong on this side, that I slipped away freely. Sharaniss, however, being more versed in the way of the waters, grabbed my hand and dragged me to a relatively safe place. It was difficult enough to speak under the water, but when you're competing with the noise of the Maelstrom, it's nearly impossible. I could hardly keep my eyes open against the constant flow of water.

Before I knew it, we were within the halls of the palace. Sharaniss was able to guide us through the courtyard and into the greatly adorned under-water castle. In some ways it was much like a palace you might see on land. Perhaps the Naga kept some of their Elven heritage in tact. But the palace was not what I was looking for.

"Take me to the Well, Sharaniss!" I said, trying to speak over the watery wind that beat at the walls, "I have no interest in the palace!"

"I can go for you, if you wish," he answered, "But I cannot carry you the whole way! I have heard that the queen has a chamber that opens directly into the Rift! If we go through the palace, we can spare your puny land-limbs the embarrassment of trying to swim through the storm!"

I gave this some thought. I was hoping to avoid the queen altogether. Perhaps we still could, with the right plan. "Very well," I said. "Lead on."

"I know the interior of the palace as well as you, Prophet!" he said, "From here on, we are both blind!"

Sighing is a heavy business with water flowing through your lungs. But sigh, I did. Did I bite off more than I could chew? Did I jump into the deep end too soon, so to speak? I nodded and lead the way through the halls.

We didn't get too far before we were discovered. A female Naga with spiney fins protruding from her head, neck and arms walked in through a side door clearly on her way to another when she looked our way and snarled.

"Who are you??" she asked, "What are you doing here??"

"Fair questions," I said. "We come with a message for the queen. Perhaps you could show us to her."

"Queen Azshara, Light of Lights, does not accept messages from land-men! Guards! Come at once!"

Sharaniss leaned over and whispered to me: "Perhaps we were better off with you as a valuable prisoner and I as your captor."

I nodded.

Three guards entered the room and the female servant pointed at us. "Get them out of the palace!"

The guards nodded and I prepared potent spell.