The Wrath Gate and the Treachery of Verimathras

There are no words for the pain I feel for the Forsaken and for the Horde at this moment. The treachery perpetrated by one of the Forsaken's own this day brings a heaviness to my heart that is unparalleled. It is something one must see to appreciate.

When I heard the Horde was about to storm the Wrath Gate, I knew something spectacular was going to happen. In order to capture the moment, I conjured an image recording spell. What I captured... was not what I had hoped to see.



I stopped the spell at that moment because I knew Putress was not acting on the Horde's behalf and I must see what was happening in the Undercity. Sure enough, when I got there I saw Thrall battling with a modest battalion alongside Lady Sylvannas against the forces of the Royal Apothecary society and demons under the command of Varimathras. The Horde was trying to re-take the Undercity.

Varimathras became Sylvannas' servant after the Banshee Queen regained her ability to think for herself. The Dreadlord helped her against the forces of Arthas, the Death Knight, and the Scourge, even to the point of (supposedly) killing his brothers as a show of loyalty. Since then, Varimathras had been a "loyal" advisor to the Dark Lady, defending her against anyone who would challenge her and taking some of the ruling workload off of her.

Putress, on the other hand, did not have such a sketchy beginning. He had fallen to the Scourge just as the rest of the Forsaken and regained his mind with the help of the Dark Lady. It was not long before his skills as an apothecary lead him to a leadership position in the Royal Apothecary Society of the Forsaken. He played key roles in producing the Forsaken Blight, which you saw spilled on the forces of the Alliance and the Horde in front of the Wrath Gate. Needless to say... no one survived the actions of this traitor. Except... for the Lich King.

One is left to wonder what the rest of the Forsaken think of their plight. Surely they would take revenge on Arthas, but on all the living? Let us hope Putress and his followers are the only ones who would take vengeance to such an extreme. But can anyone be certain? This is the question on the heads of the Alliance at this time.

As I watched with pride as Thrall and Sylvannas took down Varimathras, it was not long after until King Varian Wrynn showed up with a small contingency of soldiers to challenge the Horde. Words were exchanged. The King expressed his distrust for anything related to the Horde and threatened to kill its leaders where they stood. He struck Thrall and the orc's companions defended him. Were it not for the actions of Jaina Proudmore, the fate of the Horde would have been decided that moment.

Jaina froze everyone in their tracks and teleported the Alliance soldiers and king away. Although it seemed to end well, Thrall, were he any less of an orc, may have buckled down and cried. The Horde had been working for peace ever since they broke free of the Blood of Mannaroth. And now, with the treachery of one Forsaken apothecary, all that they had worked for had vanished.

All they could do now... was return to their kingdoms. And, as Surfang said to Thrall: "Lead your people."

My strength has since been fully restored. The Dragonblight remains unexplored by me. After I have taken time to consider what I have witnessed, I will take off again and, perhaps, learn more of the intentions of Malygos.

The Blue Dragon part 2

You will recall earlier reading that I had made my home at Karazahn because of its peculiar location on top of the convergence of all the ley lines in Azeroth. From within Karazahn's walls I am able to call upon such mystical forces as the rest of the world has never seen. There are two ways in which this presently presented itself as a bad thing.

1) My use of these forces marked me as an enemy of Malygos.

2) Being curious about similar ley line convergences lead me to be captured by the aforementioned dragon.

I had assumed Karazahn was unique. I had thought that they ley lines could come together only at one point. So you can imagine my surprise when, in the Frozen North, I felt as though I was back home at my tower. I was pulling on the same amount of arcane energy as I would have had I been standing in my own library. Why was this? I was unable to answer that question before Saragosa trapped me in an anti-arcane field.

It knocked me unconscious at first. The sudden loss of power stung greatly at my mind and the last thing I saw was the face of Malygos. When I came to, the room was empty. I was floating mid-air in a blackish purple swirl of consuming mist. Around me, however, were frozen walls and a blue floor. There was no real architecture in this particular room, save for the natural drip of freezing water. Although the anti-arcane field stripped me of much of my vitality, what hurt the most was the complete lack of another presence. I was all alone.

Now, as a hermit for most of my life, you can imagine I would be fairly accustomed to being left to my thoughts. But there was something about the air in the room... something about the sting of the cold and the grasp of the field that made hours feel like days and days feel like weeks. By this new method of counting I would have been in that room for at least a month before someone came along, but in reality it was only about a day and a half.

Finally I was treated to the presence of my captor. A weak-looking human in a blue cloak and a short, white beard entered. The disguise did not fool me. This was Malygos.

"Good evening, Medivh," he said, "Welcome to the Nexus."

I answered with a spit in my voice, "Hello, Malygos."

The Aspect laughed. "You are very astute even without the use of your powers."

Malygos waved his arm and the dark mist vanished. I fell to the floor and... hurt myself. I actually hurt myself. I was unable to cast a spell of protection before I fell. Why was that? The mist was gone, after all...

"I apologize for leaving you alone for so long," Malygos continued, "But it just took that long for me to drain you."

"You've taken away my ability to use magic? That's impossible!"

Again Malygos laughed. This annoyed me because I'M supposed to be the arrogant, mindful one who knows something the other doesn't. "You wield the arcane like a child. And if I'm not mistaken, taking candy from a baby is supposed to be something easy to do."

No one had ever spoken to me like that. Even as a child my command over magic had been applauded and awed after. I was perhaps the greatest wielder of magic Azeroth had ever seen! And this human-form dragon was comparing me to a child. Perhaps the rumors of his sanity returning had been exaggerated. Nevertheless, being able to take my power away was an astonishing feat.

"I will confess," Malygos continued with his annoyingly arrogant poise, "that this treatment is only a temporary one. It's much like a highly-amplified version of a Counterspell. It will disallow you to use magic but only for so long. Eventually your life force will regenerate its lost abilities. But it should still be just long enough to kill you."

"You can't kill me," I explained, "I'm already dead."

Malygos laughed again. You have no idea the intensity of the rage that built up in me from enduring this show of arrogance. "Yet here you are!" he said, "Why is that?"

I found this difficult to explain myself. Indeed, I had died, but I was able to move about in the world of the living as more than merely a spirit. I gave to him the answer I had temporarily devised for myself: "Bonding with Sargaras has... changed me, somehow. I believe I may be... a half-eternal hybrid of some kind."

"Yet here you are... crawling on my floor... injured by a nine-foot fall."

This was also difficult to explain. I felt the only one who could explain it was standing before me. "What have you done?"

"And so we get to the point of the matter. The reason I brought you here. The reason I haven't killed you yet." Malygos walked around the room proudly. "Your tower, Karazahn. It is positioned upon the heart of Azeroth's ley lines, is it not?"

"Yes, it is."

"Have you felt any trembles? Any earthquakes, if you will?"

"I have not stayed there for any long amount of time. If any earthquakes had happened it would have been while I was gone. It has, however, fallen into a state of disarray. An earthquake may explain some of that."

Malygos grinned. I knew he wasn't telling me something. But in a sense he didn't have to. I had a sense of what he was doing. I just hoped that I was wrong. But since I am never wrong, this was a lesson in futility.

At this point, however, I was more interested in survival. I was weaker than I had ever been. But I sensed that I was not as weak as Malygos had thought. Even then I felt some semblance of magic running through me. In Karazahn I had learned to harness the arcane forces around me and bring them into my very being. I had done this out of arcane gluttony at the time, but now I was doing it as a means of survival. The disturbing thought was that I had only previously been able to do this in my tower. And now, here, on the roof of the world, I was able to do it in Malygos' lair, the Nexus. If this didn't confirm what my theory was, Malygos was about to.

"All I needed was confirmation. I already knew that fewer and fewer people were visiting the tower. In time Karazahn will become less and less useful as a draw for magic. You see, I'm moving all the world's ley lines. Lining them up so that they run... here. Then I will suck up the world's magic and destroy it. I would have moved to Karazahn, but in stead of tearing down that old place and building an entirely new Nexus it was much easier to do things this way..."

"It's easy to reshape the very foundation of the planet??"

"My dear child, you really have no sense of the forces with which you play at all, do you? Such is the problem with all the magic-baring races of Azeroth. And why they must all be wiped out."

Just then another dragon entered the room. This one was actually in dragon form, although he was much smaller than Malygos' true form. Even so, he towered over the Aspect's human form and myself.

"Malygos," he said, "I have grave news."

"What is it!?" Malygos roared, "Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Sir, Saragosa... She's dead."

Malygos finally turned his attention away from me allowing me to muster up a modicum of arcane energy. Just enough to evoke a simple teleportation spell.

"She... What?!" Malygos sounded utterly devastated.

"She died at the hands of Keristrasza. Even now, the red dragon calls you forth to respond to this heinous act."

That was all I heard before I finished casting my spell. I can imagine Malygos turning around and finding me gone. Another blot to an otherwise horrific day for the dragon. As for me, the teleportation spell wore me out like no other spell ever had. I had teleported myself to the Undercity. It was, therefore, a short distance back to Northrend by conventional means. It was just a teleportation spell, but I felt as though I had used up the very last of my energy. The Blue Dragon's anti-arcane field had weakened me greatly. But he was right: my life force continued to regenerate my lost power. Until it was fully restored, I took a zeppelin back to the Howling Fjords and mounted a flying steed to Agmar's Hammer in Dragonblight where I am currently resting.

What I had learned was disturbing, indeed. My tower's positioning had allowed Malchazzar to open up to himself all realities and all dimensions. But even then, neither of us were foolish enough draw all the magic into that one concentrated area. Such a thoughtless use of magic is what turned Draenor into the Outlands. It tore their planet asunder and forever altered its once-beautiful landscape.

I fear this shall not be the last I see of the Blue Dragon or his Nexus. But when I return. I shall be prepared.

The Blue Dragon part 1

Sit down to read this tale, for it may frighten and it may spurn, but my presence here writing this gives you hope that there is a happy ending.

As you may know, I was exploring the Borean Tundra before my last communication through Twitter. It's a dismal place mostly filled with ugly behemoths and rotting scourge. The only native land that seemed to be worth studying was the Tuskarr city, though it had little to do with our end goals. The Tuskarr were in combat with a peculiar type of Vrykul who travel and can be seen only within a mysterious mist. As I was studying the Tuskarr race and this struggle they were finding themselves in, I was attacked by a large amount of these Kvaldir Vrykul and was forced to retaliate with a variety of spells that I had ready.

Defeating the mob was easy, and as soon as they were all finished I transformed into a raven to escape. I decided to take a break from my studies and explore the far west of the Tundra. And that's when it got interesting.

I did not make it farther than Valiance Keep before I caught in the corner of my eye a large floating disk with a human atop and what seemed a small pet - a dog. I did not get a good look at them, for as soon as I realized they were there, they had trapped me in a box.

I know what you're thinking. I am the great Medivh! The Last Guardian of Tirisfal, former vessel of Sargaras and hybrid Eternal! Surely I cannot be held by a mere box! This is exactly what I thought, too. Then I realized it was not a mere box. It took me a while to discover the nature of this box. It was an arcane cell meant to hold mages and keep them from using their magic. Still, it was not beyond my power. Once I realized the type of box this was, it was a matter of merely concentrating an arcane focus on a single point - the weakest point - of the box. Once I had that I drew more and more power from within and from without. The great force of the arcane flowed through me like it had not in ages! And then I realized... this was all too easy.

The box opened in an explosion of energy and I found myself surrounded by more of the same type of human I saw flying on the large disk. These were mage hunters - I was sure of it now. And among them were dragonkin of the Blue Dragonflight. I fought them off as they came after me. I believed it would not be as easy as it was with the Kvaldir, but for some reason magic came even more easily to me in this area than anywhere else in Azeroth.... except...

If I was right, there was a fount of unfathomable power nearby. One to which I could reach out and access with the ease that I had at my own home: Karazhan.

I was soon to find out what that fount was. No sooner had I defeated the enemies surrounding me than I had attracted the attention of Saragosa herself, guardian and consort to Malygos, the Spell-Weaver and Dragon Aspect of Magic. She flew down and swept me up off the ground. At first I struggled, but she had a firm grip and I did not wish to harm her and bring down the wrath of Malygos. I also needed more information, and it would not do to destroy the source of that information.

"What is the meaning of this!?" I demanded of my captor as we flew to lands unknown.

She did not answer at first. I suspected she heard me, but wished to deny me my answers.

I thought maybe she didn't know who she hand in her claws. "I am Medivh! Last Guardian of Tirisfal and opener of the Dark Portal!"

"I know who you are," she thundered, "My love wishes to see you."

This is the last thing I wanted to hear. Last I knew, Malygos, her love, had it out for all magic users. And I, being one of the most formidable wielders of the arcane on Azeroth, would be high on his list of people to destroy. Especially since the use of my body by Sargaras was responsible for bringing war and the Burning Legion to Azeroth in the First War.

We finally landed. And I saw the face of Malygos. And after I was cast into an anti-arcane field, that is the last thing I saw.

Exploring Northrend: The Vrykul

After spending a restless night at Vengeance Landing, I awoke to one of many cannon fires coming from just outside the inn. As you can imagine, I found myself more than ready to leave this Forsaken settlement. Don't get me wrong: it should not be a secret that I prefer the Horde. After all, I kind of helped start them. If nothing else, I definitely helped them come to Azeroth. Not by my own will, but... that's another story. Regardless, the Forsaken have a sad story of their own and I would not hinder their quest for vengeance. I sympathize with these undead creatures and wish them well.

But a loud cannon firing while I'm trying to sleep just will not do.

Taking on raven form once more, I flew up to the top of the hill, preferring my wings to the rickety lift they had set up. The first thing I noticed at the top was a Forsaken man talking with what seemed to be humanoid bison. I would come to learn later that this is a member of the Taunka, and I will study them at a later time, but what REALLY caught my attention was across the road from them. An abomination leading an attack against a race of large, almost giant men.

But they weren't men. Their skin was rock solid, they had beards like Dwarves, but they were almost as tall as any of the mechanical watchers I have in my Tower (aside from my beloved Curator... I wonder how he's holding up). Overhearing the extraordinarily intelligent abomination (which isn't saying much) talking to an adventurer, I learned that their name was the Vrykul. The name rang a bell. Somewhere in my studies long ago I had heard the name.

Quickly I flew to the next town, New Agamand, which featured some lovely gothic Forsaken architecture, but there was no time to dawdle. I set my hearthstone to their inn and teleported back to my tower. I scavenged through nearly all my books and finally found what I needed.

The Vrykul existed on Azeroth thousands and thousands of years ago before even the Great Sundering. Nearer to the creation of the world by the Titans. It is said that the Vrykul were created by the Titans originally to be the inhabiters and tenders of Azeroth. They were made with stone or with iron or scales depending on their aspect, much like the Earthen, predecessors of the Dwarves. Then the Old Gods came. The Dwarves have long known the effect of the Old Gods on their ancestors. The Curse of Flesh was given to them in order to twist them into something a little more like what they had in mind for Azeroth. The same thing is rumored to have happened to the Vrykul, only instead of merely giving them flesh, it also shrunk them. Thus were born the first Humans.

But this only happened to a few of the Vrykul before the Titans retaliated and locked the Old Gods within the earth. The rest of them wondered away into the Cold North. They lived normal lives for a while. And then they vanished. Without any known reason, they just fell asleep as a race and were never heard from again. Until now.

I had to find out why they had returned and what they were up to, so I activated my hearthstone and traveled back to New Agamand. In the distance I could clearly see the Vrykul's known base of operations: Utgarde Keep. I put on my wings and flew over there, unsure of what I would see. But once I got close it was clear. The Vrykul had risen because of the Alliance.

Though I'm sure not ALL the blame could be laid on them, surely they could have been more wise as to their choice in settlement. When Arthas Menethil rode to Northrend when a detachment of soldiers chasing after the dreadlord, Mal'Ganus, he was called by the Lich King to his runeblade, Frostmorne, and sought it out. When he found it, he killed Mal'Ganus and, overpowered by the blade's attachment to the Lich King, ran off into the Frozen North to seek out the Lich King himself, leaving his troops to fend for themselves. And fend they did. They constructed a small town by the name of Valgarde just outside of Utgarde Keep. It was my assumption then, which was confirmed later, that this is the disturbance that awoke the Vrykul.

But there were still unanswered questions. The Vrykul of the distant past were not a cruel and evil people. They were strong warriors, yes, but they were not unkind. What had turned them? What convinced them to attack those who may actually be their sons and daughters? I had a disturbing theory. I hoped it was wrong. But there was just one way to find out. I had to enter Utgarde Keep.

The form of a raven is quite useful when you don't want to be seen. Call it a defect, but humanoids just don't think to look up when they're looking for intruders. Birds are rarely spotted even when they're indoors. As long as I'm quiet, I go unseen. When I entered the Keep, my theory was all but confirmed, for the first person I ran into was familiar, indeed. Prince Keleseth is a known member of the San'Layn, a group of undead elven princes who are loyal to the Scourge and the Lich King. In Utgarde Keep he appears to be an ambassador for the Scourge to the Vrykul. This was all the proof I needed of their connection to the Lich King. But what would cause a race of previously benevolent half-giants to turn their backs on Azeroth and follow the Lich King? For this I would need to investigate further.

There are four things that settled this question for me. Traveling deeper into the Keep I found Ingvar the Plunderer, as he is called. He seemed to be directing the attack on those who had awakened them, the town of Valgarde. It was a grand show of strength. He was motioning proto-drake riders and barking commands as though he controlled the minions of the entire world. As I was watching, a small group of adventurers approached him and he attacked them. Five against one was an uneven match, it seemed. Ingvar fell quickly, but just as the group thought they had done their job, the form of a spirit or some kind of energy being descended on Ingvar. The spirit brought the Vrykul back to life! That is, back to undeath. This new Ingvar was a twisted, rotten version of the one who I saw leading the attack on Valgarde. The undead Ingvar attacked the group of adventurers and this time he won.

I flew away from there and traveled amongst the rest of the Howling Vjord. Eventually I ended up at a Vrykul burial ground called Shield Point. But the dead here were not dead. Spirits and skeletons left their graves and attacked anything that came near. Four spirits in particular were out for vengeance against those who would disturb their graves. It seemed the Vrykul cemetery is only temporary lodging. They don't stay there for long.

Leaving the burial ground I flew around some more until I came across the Vrykul town of Scorn. I would not have stayed long were it not for the cries of a Vrykul warrior coming from the top of the city on a hill. There was a large pyre and a warrior named Halfdan was fighting an adventurer who seemed to have challenged him. When the adventurer defeated Halfden, the same spirit I saw appear to Ingvar appeared with another like him to Halfden. But this time it was not so benevolent. The spirit declared the defeated warrior unworthy of ascension and banished his soul to oblivion.

I almost had it, the Vrykul, it seemed, were obsessed with the afterlife. And when I say afterlife, I don't mean a world beyond this one. I mean living in this world as an eternal being. All the pieces of the puzzle were there, but they would not be put together until one more encounter. I rested for the night at New Agamand and awoke to a new day and a new discovery.

I had heard of strange events happening in the northwest, so I decided to investigate. In this area I found the place they called Gjalerbron. It would seem like a normal Vrykul fortress, but for one small difference: The Scourge. Liches roamed up and down the the stairways, a frostwyrm circled above, gruesome monstrosities guarded sensitive areas Necro-Lords sacrificed innocent lives in rituals of reawakening. And there in the uppermost room of the area I saw King Ymiron of the Vrykul being awakened by his queen with the help of several Scourge Necro-Lords.

This was it. This was the key. The Lich King had invaded the Vrykul's uppermost ranks and offered them eternal life after death. Then it occurred to me: the spirits that appeared to Ingvar and Halfden, perhaps they were not just spirits. The frightening truth may actually be... these are servants or mouthpieces of the Lich King himself. He had taken advantage of their own mythology that the strongest shall rise as warriors beyond death and actually GIVEN it to them. What was once a mere superstition had now been given true life and has unwittingly made them servants to the most vial of all villains, the Lich King.

Truly Northrend has fallen to the power of the Lich King. It is a dark day, indeed, when proud races such as the Vrykul can fall victim to his unyielding power. After learning this, I headed back to New Agamand where I will rest a while. My plan next is to explore the Borean Tundra and the inhabitants there. But I suspect I have not seen the last of the Vrykul.

Northrend: Day 1

Upon my arrival at Northrend, I flew into the Forsaken military settlement of Vengeance Landing. Since its inception, the Forsaken have been characterized by their strong need for revenge against the one who twisted them into their undead forms, Arthas Menethil. It was by the hand of Arthas, the Death Knight, that Sylvanas Windrunner was torn from her body and then compelled to do the bidding of the Scourge. Ever since she broke free from his grasp, she has sworn upon his death. No, not death - complete destruction. It is no surprise, then, that Vengeance Landing was given this name.

What is a surprise is that vengeance against the Lich King is not what the Forsaken are fighting for at the Landing at this point. Old hatreds and prejudices have a way of following you wherever you go - even to the Cold North. During the Third War, the Alliance was assaulted by the Lich King's undead Scourge. Even though these creatures had once been their friends and family, they showed no mercy in ending their unnatural lives. When Sylvanas regained herself, she helped others to free themselves from the Lich King's waning grasp and, thus, the Forsaken were born. Now with minds of their own, they could be considered... a little less evil. A little more to be trusted. But the Alliance still sees them as a Scourge upon Azeroth. And they fight them wherever they find them. This is what the denizens of Vengeance Landing find themselves busy with: fighting off the disgusted masses of the Alliance.

I pity the Forsaken. Their entire life is a single-minded devotion to the destruction of the Lich King, the same goal for which the Alliance finds themselves in Northrend. But because of their ghastly appearance and their sketchy past they are scorned by those who were once their brothers rather than helped. And what is to happen once the Lich King is defeated? Where does the Forsaken go from there? Do they try to continue a normal existence as an undead race? Do they try to cure their disease of undeath? The answers to these questions, indeed even the questions themselves, elude the Forsaken. Their mind is set on the Lich King. Him first, and then the rest of existence.

Alternatives II: The Lich King of Draenor

While exploring some of the countless realities open to my roommate, Malchazaar, on my roof, I came across a version of Azeroth that wasn't there.

That is... Azeroth wasn't there. It was reduced to a field of asteroids. I can only assume what happened to the planet. Perhaps the great Sundering eons ago was more cataclysmic in this reality. Or perhaps there was no Sundering and the Burning Legion completely demolished the entire planet after consuming the world of the Night Elves. I was never to learn a precise answer. But as I was pondering the possibilities, a gigantic space vessel flew in my direction.

I had read the stories of the Draenei and seen them countless times raiding my tower, but I had never had the pleasure of seeing their vast space-traveling vessel in tact. It was clear as they got closer that this was the very same Exodar that crashed into my planet in my reality, yet remained in tact in this reality. It occurred to me that since Azeroth was gone, my alternate self in this reality never had a chance to open a portal to Draenor. The orcs never came and they never destroyed their home-world with several other portals to Azeroth. Draenor was still out there with a healthy civilization of both Orcs and Draenei... or so I thought.

There was something about this area of space, evidently, that draws the most ardent of magic users wether a planet exists here or not. As I passed through the walls of the Exodar, I floated as a ghost around the inside to see the Draenei's purpose in this region. They were excavating chunks of the remnants of Azeroth to use as channeling devices for their own magic. Once they had gathered enough asteroids, they were on their way back home. To Draenor.

When I got there, the planet was beautiful. I'm sure those who have visited Outland in my reality could relate to some of the sights I saw here in a perfectly preserved version of Draenor. But it was different. The Burning Legion had a hold on these people, too. War had ravaged much of the planet, and though it was still whole, it was not without its scars. The Orcs had survived the ages, but they were split into separate factions. There were those who were corrupted by demons' blood and those who remained pure. Also on the planet were the aforementioned Draenei, but these were a stouter, more war-like version. In my reality the Draenei ran from the greater evil, but with more numbers and greater resolve, the Draenei in this reality stood fast against the Legion. But they did not trust any Orc, pure or corrupted.

These three factions fought against each other constantly. I saw Velen in the Draenei army, I saw Thrall in the uncorrupted Orc army, but here is where it gets interesting: fighting for the corrupted orcs was a person I had only half expected to see: Ner'zhul.

In my reality, Ner'zhul had saved some of his fellow orcs from complete damnation by advising them not to drink the blood of Manaroth and, thereby, become corrupted. Because he betrayed the Burning Legion in this manner, they kept his spirit alive as they tore his body to shreds. In agony, Ner'zhul agreed to work once more for the Legion, so they placed his formless spirit in the Frozen Throne where his powers could grow. This is how the Lich King was born.

In this alternate reality, I have no reason to believe that the same thing did not happen. Ner'zhul commanded his army from within an alternate version of the Frozen Throne laid to rest in what we know as Shadowmoon Valley. Without Arthas to free him, he remained there, his powers over the mind growing exponentially. Even I, as a spirit, felt the whispers of his suggestion within my head.

The Lich King of Draenor was an even more powerful force than the one I know on my Azeroth. And I sought to know why. It seemed that as a spirit encased in armor and crystal, the Lich King has no barrier to how great his mind-controlling strength can grow, even though this encasing is as a prison to him. This is the key to the lesson I learned from this alternate reality. In order to destroy the Lich King we must not merely destroy his body, but his spirit as well. As long as he has a body, his powers are slowed, but if he is allowed to escape from that body there is no telling what kind of horrors he may be able to unleash.

In the end I influenced a Draenei to go back to the Azerothian sector of space from which I came so that I could travel with him. As I left this entirely different reality I was haunted by a frightening thought: If the Lich King can survive the complete destruction of Azeroth in this reality, how much less hope does that give us?

Alternatives

There is a reason I made my home atop the convergence of all the ley lines of Azeroth and a reason (other than keeping my secret) that I refused to leave when Arcanagos insisted I evacuate. Karazhan is a channel for immence power. From there there is nothing I cannot do. But it took my absence to inspire a new tennent to do something truly amazing with the potential of my tower's construction. Malchazaar has opened up all realities to himself using the energy from Karazhan and I have used this to explore new ways to deal with our old friend: the Lich King.

The first reality I visited saw Arthas Menethil as a noble prince of Lordaeron and a valiant force for Good. When tempted by the power of Frostmourne, in stead of giving in, he destroyed the relic and vanquished the Lich King. He then sat beside his father, the king, by the throne of Lordaeron. The Forsaken were never established and Sylvanas Windrunner remained a ranger and maintained a close relationship with Menethil all through the Third War.

But with their primary weapon gone, the Burning Legion did not stop. They took what undead forces they had and swept through Lordaeron and Quel'Thalas with the help of none other than Illidan Stormrage. They took advantage of his lust for power and his love for Tyrande Whisperwind. They kidnapped the latter and offered endless amounts of the former.

To make a long story short, Lordaeron still fell along with both Arthas and Sylvanas. All of this alternative Azeroth has fallen into destuction at the hands of Illidan on behalf of the Legion but for a small contingency of druids lead by Illidan's brother, Malfurion. This is not a better alternative, therefore the past should not be changed in this manner.

But most importantly, what I learned from this reality is that only one thing can defeat the Lich King, wether it is at the hands of an alternative Arthas or by the hands of another great hero destroying Arthas... that is Good. Good will always prevail over the Evil represented by that dark armor and long, white hair. So maybe those Druids have some hope after all.

My Curator is glitching again. Luckily the mechanic I hired taught me how to fix him myself or else just owning this thing would cost a fortune. Be right back to tell the tale of another Alternate Azeroth.

I am something... different now.

The denizens of Azeroth once again find themselves on the precipice of doom and it falls to the Prophet to warn them of the coming winter of discontent. That's me. The Prophet. Medivh.

I don't mean to be arrogant or anything, but I've kind of adopted that title since I died and decided I had to make up for bringing war on Azeroth by warning them of a third war. So I kinda skipped the second. Yeah, here's the deal...

The First War of Azeroth began when I, under the influence of the Fallen Titan, Sargeras, opened the Dark Portal and allowed the demon-blood-influenced orcs to run amok in the human lands of Azeroth. That's about when they killed me. They destroyed Sargeras (I think... maybe) but my spirit escaped.

Evidently there was a Second War that I had nothing to do with. After this is when they sealed my portal, and then there was peace for a while... until I started feeling kind of odd. I felt like Lordaeron was about to be destroyed. And I felt like it was because of the Burning Legion. With my mom's help, I attained a human form and went and warned everyone I could and tried to start an alliance that could battle against this powerful foe. All but one human and her followers ignored me. The orcs and the night elves were at my side, though. That's why I called myself The Prophet. Because I was pretty much prophesying what was to come and telling them how they could win against damnation. With them all together we fought the Third War and defeated Archimonde upon Mount Hyjal.

Then I thought I could take a vacation. I thought, "Hey, these mortals are working out pretty well! I think they can handle Azeroth on their own!"

Well, I didn't take into account that they would REOPEN MY FRIGGIN PORTAL!! As soon as I found out they had done that, I moved back into my tower, Karazhan, only to find out that some raving, Reggaeton-loving Man'ari Erodar demon, Malchezaar had pretty much just DECLARED it to be his home! It's alright, though, we're cool now. We're pretty much roommates. Even though he annoys the hell out of me sometimes.

When I got back home I started trying to read up on the last few years, but I ended up being distracted by raids and raids of random adventurers wanting to play chess with me. I didn't mind 'cause I like the game and they tended to continue on afterwards to mess with Malchie, so I was fine with that. But it did distract from my studies.

Then... Echoes of Doom. I started hearing about The Lich King. That was a name I had not heard in a long time. And it had previously been associated with the spirit of an orcish Shaman, Ner'zhul. The Legion had used him in the Third War to create an army of undead soldiers called the Scourge. Evidently, while I was off vacationing in the other-world, Prince Arthas merged with this being and is now powerful enough to make a full-scale attack on the entire world of Azeroth!

Well, raiders rarely visit anymore, so I decided it was about time to catch up on my Azerothian history. I'm all caught up now. And now my plan is to write journal entries on the latest happenings of Azeroth. The only problem is my dad gave away my journal! So I'm starting a blog.

How's that for a first post? The Lich King will strike soon. Look for me again when I am able to travel to Northrend and explore the Cold North.

Also, follow me on Twitter. I love that site.