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.

The Maelstrom (part 5)

Nazjatar, the capital city of the Naga, was built from the vast ruins of the ancient Kaldorei city of Zin'Azshari. After the Well of Eternity imploded, the city which surrounded it, Zin'Azshari, was drawn to the depths of the sea and a great rift was errected around the ruins of the well. The surviving Kaldorei, changed by the Well's energies into Naga, reconstructed the city into the walls of the great rift and renamed it Nazjatar. These two cities hold only two things loosely in common: pieces of their architecture, and the rule of the beautiful queen, Azshara.

Riding up onto the edges of the city, it was clear that the architecture had some elven influence, but it made some definite marks of its own. The great, sharp hills of the Rift were visible in the distance surrounded by a great palace surrounding what looked like bright sunlight beaming from inside deep canyon. The buildings, including the palace, looked like coral. They were well-crafted, and organic in their design.

Sharaniss looked back at me as we approached some guards who kept a wary eye on this new sorcerer in their midst. I nodded, silently agreeing that I would play along.

"I'm taking this prisoner to the palace," Sharaniss said, "he claims to have valuable information for the queen."

The guard nodded and let Sharaniss pass. Perhaps a little too easily. It was at this moment I fist became troubled about my situation. I perceived at the surface that the Naga perhaps expected me. It was odd to think they might, but stranger things have happened.

On the other hand, just being in this area was giving me a paranoid feeling. I mean, more paranoid than normal. Usually I can give a reasonable justification for fear, but the feeling I got now... it was deeper and more unexplainable. Like an outside force was planting fear in my soul. I was more aware of everything that might be a threat. And even that itself bothered me.

Through the streets of Nazjatar we went. The place was understandably filled with Naga. And they were all staring at us. Numerous times I thought I heard whispers of my name... but they couldn't possibly know... could they? Several of the female Naga had snakes for hair. I heard that the eyes of the snakes allowed the female to see in all directions. But it seemed every... single... snake eye... was pointed at me.

I tried to shake off this madness, for madness it was, indeed. I focused on the walls of the great rift ahead and thought of what great power might be emanating from its depths. Power great enough for even a great fallen Titan to lust after. Power that drew Sargeras to invade Azeroth with orcs. An invasion I could not stop.

It was all my fault. There I sat helplessly in my own body watching as a greater evil than anyone has ever known drew demonic forces onto a peaceful land, wiping out all in their path. I could have done something. I should have done something. I was too weak, or at least I convinced myself that I was. Or maybe Sargeras convinced me. But if he did, I still believed him. I failed Azeroth in that moment. A moment I could never have back.

Violently, I snapped myself out of this line of thought. Here I was trying to focus on my adventure and suddenly I was thinking paranoid thoughts of dire events past! I knew full well that my mistakes had been atoned by my actions in the Third War. And I knew even better that if the Orcs had not come to Azeroth, she surely would have fallen to the scourge! I had not felt this irrational in all of my life. Logic was part of my being! There was only one time I may have bent even closely to the insane apart from possession... that was in the Howling Fjord...

"Sorcerer!" Sharaniss called to me. Evidently it wasn't the first time he tried at my attention.

"Yes?" I replied. Looking ahead, I saw that we were at some grandly adorned coral gates.

"This is as far as I can take you. Do not let the gate walls deceive you. There is an invisible magical dome protecting all sides of the palace and the rift. What you seek is the source of the light coming from inside the rift."

For the first time since entering the city, I looked... up. The great light before me shot up to the surface of the water like a beacon and swirled in the tempest storm that surrounded it. Becoming more aware of my surroundings, I felt a tidal pull attempting to push me off of my turtle mount. What might have been wind in the air was a continuous wave of water under the sea. The rift caused the water to swirl around it like a tornado. And I finally knew the origin of the unending storm above.

"No one is allowed inside," Sharaniss explained, "without an express invitation by the queen with her royal seal."

"What does this seal look like?" I asked.

Sharaniss tilted his head slightly. He pointed at the gates which had an ornate design drawn into the bars. It seemed to be an octopus with the body of a woman. A beautiful woman, at that. It was surrounded by a circle with ancient Kaldorei writing along the edges.

I focused on the image and positioned my hands in front of me as though holding a small object. And then, suddenly, I was holding a small object. A ring with the royal seal of Azshara appeared in my hands as I smirked at Sharaniss whose lizard-like eyes had gotten noticeably wider.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Accompany me inside and you may find out."

The Maelstrom (part 4)

It was the Naga's turn to laugh. Since he had so much more experience with water-speech, he allowed the flow of water to run freely through his throat and tickle his vocal chords easily. A simple fire spell and a serious face was enough to shut him up. The flicker of the flames within my palm lit up my face with an intimidating flair. And my slithery friend was silent. Somewhere around this time Frost Nova broke. But the Naga was smart enough not to leave until I allowed him to.

"The Well of Eternity was destroyed millennia ago, land-man," he finally said.

"A never-ending storm rages at the surface, magic is more powerful here than anywhere I have experienced and the Burning Legion still tries to invade Azeroth from the Outlands. The Well was made by the Titans to be the heart of all magic on this world and yet... this world still uses magic. It should not, could not be so easily destroyed. Perhaps it doesn't exist in the same form as it once did, but I cannot believe it was completely wiped out until I see the site with my own eyes."

The reptilian face of the Naga before me looked defeated and fallen, but somehow still scheming. "I can take you as far as the palace," he said, "but even I don't have access to enter."

As if "even I" was something significant.

"Very well," I answered, "What is your name?"

"Sharaniss. What is yours?"

I paused momentarily, unaware of how much the Naga knew of my story. "Just call me the Prophet."

Sharaniss whistled and out of the darkness of the ocean came three sea turtles. They were obviously meant for him and his friends. His friends will no longer need them.

"I will need to bind your hands," he said. I looked skeptical, but understood. He explained anyway. "Only one other land-man has ventured into our world. And he didn't stay long."

"Brann Bronzebeard. His explorations are well known to me."

"Yes. We did not take kindly to his intrusion. If you are also intruding, the only reason we would possibly keep you alive is as a prisoner. Even then there must be some amount of value to you. But you won't even tell me your name."

"Which means my true name holds more value than I care to divulge at the moment. Tie me up, but know that at any moment I can break free and crush you should you do anything of which I disapprove."

Sharaniss nodded, took a green, seaweed-woven rope and wrapped it around my hands behind my back. It was the simplest thing ever to get out of. And perhaps he knew that. But it would suffice to fool any on-looker into my position as a prisoner.

We mounted the sea turtles. Sharaniss took the reigns of the third one in his hand and lead them all toward the center of the storm. We were headed deep beneath the eye of the Maelstrom to the ancient city of the Naga: Nazjatar.

The deep will consume you.

"I beg your pardon?" I said to my slithery companion.

"What?" he answered.

Slightly confused, I looked around for the source of a voice I was sure I heard say "The deep will consume you." I even briefly considered my sea-turtle. "I-... Never mind. Continue."

The Maelstrom (part 3)

I learned something new about Frost Nova that day. I learned something that the Naga have probably known for quite some time. It doesn't work like one would think it should under water. As one of the Naga swam toward me, I focused my magical energy on a spell that, on land, would send a wave of solidified air at the enemy. I had no idea how this spell would act under water and there was no time to test it. Thankfully, it worked well. In fact, it worked more powerfully than I had hoped. It shoved the attacking Naga back and knocked him unconscious. The other two were casters, so they stood farther back. When the wave of solidified water hit them it was nearly dissipated and they were only slightly struck in the middle of casting a spell. I calculated that they were just about as far as a Blink would take me. Thinking quickly, I surmised that a Frost Nova would create a circle of ice around me, capturing my enemies and floating them to the surface unable to break free. I Blinked between the two casters and cast Frost Nova.

And they stayed exactly where they were.

I was taken aback for a second... a second wasted.

I ended up behind one of them, so his spell was lost to line of sight, the other had turned, however, and managed to cast a Frostbolt. It flew surprisingly well in the watery atmosphere, and smacked me in the face. The other one, who was unable to cast his spell, had a missing tooth. I noticed because his tongue slithered disgustingly through the gap as he spoke unknown words of power to awaken his melee friend.

The three of them were locked in place by my Frost Nova. They were unable to move when they should have been floating to the surface. This had passed my mind, however, and I was now focused on defeating these three.

The Naga warrior, now awake, was still severely damaged. I surmised that focusing my efforts on him to remove him as a threat altogether was wise. That is, until I saw his wounds heal from a spell cast by the toothless healer.

Snaggletooth now had my full attention.

The other caster, clearly a mage of some sort, had sent another Frostbolt my way. The first had done only a little damage. This one was a peck on the shoulder. I winced, but then gathered my energy to attack Snaggletooth. This time, I accompanied the same atmosphere-hardening spell with a splash of fire damage and focused it on Snaggletooth. A wave of burning water emanated from my hands and attached itself to the healer, damaging him severely and burning his wounds over time. The same spell knocked the warrior free of the curiously static Frost Nova and he lunged forward in my direction.

Did I mention the fire that I added to that spell was a Living Bomb?

As the warrior brought his ugly-looking axe down upon me, I knocked it out of the way with a telekinesis spell. It still managed to take a chunk off of my elbow. Don't ask me how it got back there. The mage managed another Frostbolt. These mosquito bites were becoming annoying.

Finally, Snaggletooth exploded. Pieces of the healer flew as far as they could within the water, bubbles escaped him and fire jumped from him to the other two. The explosion also caused an unexpected shockwave in the water that stunned the mage and stopped him from casting another one of his annoying spells.

It was me and the warrior now. As I readied a new spell, he knocked me with his shield. As if this could stop the last Guardian of Tirisfal from casting a potent spell. Contrary to the warrior's wishes, a great ball of fire flew from my hands and landed a critical hit in his face. I stood in place watching him struggle. A simple Fireblast put him out of his misery.

When the mage came to, he saw his friends defeated and attempted to swim away. I disallowed that. I cast Frost Nova and the mage turned, unable to move from his place in space. With a threatening glare I approached him. His reptilian face betrayed his fear.

I had several questions for him. But one was foremost on my mind. I pointed to the ice that now surrounded his leg-less tail. I coughed a most uncomfortable cough as I, for the first time, allowed water instead of air to manipulate my vocal chords. Recovering, I emitted a low hum to prepare myself for water-speech. It was incredible. I could hear my voice muffled and mangled, but, in a sense, I could hear myself better than I ever could on land.

Once I was used to the water, I spoke to the creature. Again pointing to the ice keeping him still, I asked, "Why doesn't this ice send you floating to the surface?"

The Naga looked confused, but I knew he understood me. "You seem to be a powerful sorcerer," he said, "But you don't know the details of this basic spell? I think you have a lot to learn about magic."

I smiled. I suppressed the urge to break out in an all-out guffaw. Who knows what kind of havoc that could wreak on my tender, water-controlled vocal chords?

"Nevermind," I said, "I will keep you alive if you help me."

"Help you do what?"

It was a reasonable question. A question that deserved a reasonable answer. There was a time when I believed my visit to the Maelstrom to be a random, flighty adventure. But when I got here, I found a dire reason to push forward.

"Magic is strong down here," I answered, carefully scanning his face for a reaction to my deductions. "I need you to take me to what remains of the Well."

The Maelstrom (part 2)

In their arrogance, the Kaldorei (Darnassian for Children/People of the Stars, aka Night Elves), wielded the power of the Well of Eternity foolishly, summoned demons to Azeroth and destroyed the world as they knew it. The Highborne (Quel'dorei, "Children of Nobel Birth") of the Kaldorei, a privileged few and their queen, Azshara, were presumed destroyed along with their glorious monuments. Their vast cityscapes and beautiful cultural heritage was lost to history... but those who sank beneath the ocean survived.

The Well of Eternity has transformative powers. It turned whatever humanoid race originally dwelt near it into the Night Elves. And when the Night Elves fell to the bottom of the ocean along with the Well, it turned them into a being far more evil, fierce and amphibious than any previous. The Naga. The lingering power of the destroyed Well gave them water-breathing lungs, a serpentine appearance and a ferocious demeanor. Not all the Highborne became Naga, mind you. Some of them survived even the drowning and went on to establish Silvermoon and Quel'Thalas as the High Elves. But those they left behind, the Naga, laid dormant, stewing in their defeat and plotting their reemergence for ten thousand years. This is why I was wary. This is why I did not want them to know I was here, invading their territory.

My original plan was to head straight for the rift and investigate the source of the power I felt surging through the area, but given that a Naga scout may have spotted me, I instead swam toward the northeast to the area known as Pillar Deep. There one can find several fissures spewing gaseous bubbles and many tree-like objects both of which could give me sufficient cover to hide until enough time had passed for the Naga scout to forget about my appearance on the surface and resume his mandatory patrol.

The water in Pillar Deep smelled like sulfur and acid. Breathing water on its own is a slightly unpleasant experience until you get used to it, let alone when it smells like a rotten egg. It was something I was willing to endure, however, for the safety I thought the area would provide. I touched the ocean floor and yawned to equalize the pressure of the water in my system. I was next to a large tree-like structure that seemed to be covered in scales. The top of the tree yawned over out from the center like a palm tree, but instead of leaves they were single thick tentacles. The entire structure weaved and bobbed with the current simulating a palm in high winds in slow motion. Farther out in the distance were some gaseous fissures providing more cover for me. I was sure no one would find me here. At lest... no one I could recognize.

You can imagine it came as a bit of a shock when I realized... the tree had found me.

After the whole ordeal I would eventually come to learn that this creature I was standing behind was called a Tubeworm. And it was, evidentially, very territorial. One of the tentacles that I had thought to be palm branches wrapped itself around me and began attempting to pick me up off the ground. It was very unnerving when I came to the conclusion that these tentacles were something like a group of tongues trying to pull me into the mouth at the very top. I thrashed about, unused to the weightlessness I felt under water. Out of habit, I stupidly cast an Arcane Explosion. This singed the tentacle a bit, but it also alerted the nearby tentacles to the presence of a threat. I now had four tongues licking at me as a delicacy. I thought fast. This time I forwent knee-jerk reactions and cast a spell I should have had ready all along. Blink.

Blink is a wondrous spell when cast by a potent mage. Generally used to escape some sort of movement-impediment, it is shorter in range than a teleport spell, but far quicker - instant, in fact. On rare occasion you may see a confident mage cast Blink into the heart of a battle and cast a spell affecting all enemies in the immediate area. Most of the time this mage is counting on a competent healer to keep him safe while he aggravates the surprised enemies. For the most part, however, Blink is used to get away from danger.

You can imagine my surprise, then, when I opened my eyes to see that I was beyond the gaseous fissures... in plain sight of a troop of Naga scouts. And there was no friendly healer for miles.

The Maelstrom (part 1)

To most it is merely an unending storm in the middle of the Great Sea dividing Kalimdor from the Eastern Kingdoms. Boats and zeppelins go around it and still face a raging sea that some fail to survive. Learning to fly after learning raven form is difficult enough, but it was all I could do to maintain flight through the wind and rain. I finally landed on a small island near the Eye. This would generally be considered a bad idea, but the Maelstrom has been raging for thousands of years. Any kind of brush and rubble that could possibly be blown in my direction has long since escaped the island's shores. The only thing threatening to knock me off my feet onto the hard, smoothed rocks was the wind and the sharp pellets of rain.

I felt stronger. Magic was in no short supply here. I knew immediately that this was because of the Well of Eternity. Millennia ago, the ancient ancestors of the Kaldorei discovered this tremendous source of magical energy. They built an empire around it and almost worshiped it. It wasn't long until such vast use of these energies attracted the Burning Legion and my old friend Sargeras attempted for the first time to enter into our world and destroy it. The ensuing war resulted in the destruction of the Well of Eternity which drew 80% of the land on Azeroth deep into the earth which was then covered by the great waters of the sea that we now know.

In ten thousand years, the raging storm has not stopped. The well has created a rift deep under the ocean. Some believe that the well still exists in some form deep beneath the rift. I know it does. I can feel it. Even here on the surface I can feel its power surging through me. The unending storm is a testament to its omnipotent energy.

It's difficult to focus on casting when the storm rages around you. The incantation must always be precise; a task that is difficult when the wind battles your voice for dominance. But there was no where for me to go on this island. Nowhere on any island in this area. Nowhere but down. And for that I needed a water breathing spell. I spoke the words of power clearly and loudly. My voice felt lost in the wind, but I could feel the power rushing through my lungs, changing them. They were ready to process water.

As I stepped into the tempestuous sea, I caught a brief glance of something in the distance. Far off in the ocean, a serpentine figure slithered into the water. It was no secret that the Naga make their home here, but so close to their home, they are rarely seen at the surface. Were they expecting me? Or was that a lucky scout? I don't usually believe in omens, but when the water was chest-deep and I dove in, gasping a bit to accommodate the circulation of thick water, I thought I saw the ghost of a tortured soul long lost at sea.

The Argent Tournament

At first I was skeptical about the reason for holding a tournament on the Lich King's front doorstep. It seemed diversionary. A step backward from an otherwise (relatively) successful campaign against the Lich King. After observing the activities I can safely say there is nothing to worry about.

Since the dawn of the most primitive civilized races, competition has been at the root of our training for war. When we weren't fighting, we were playing, and playing kept our skills at peak performance. This is what the Argent Tournament seeks to do: keep our skills a their peak while we gain our strength and wait for the Lich King to make a mistake... show a weakness.

Unfortunately, weakness is something he does not allow himself. Even over the Tournament, his shadow hangs. The Black Knight sits ominously in a tent just outside the Horde and Alliance tents. He waits for who-knows-what, gathering information and intimidating contestants. And, apparently, murdering innocent Valiants. He is rumoured to be a part of the Cult of the Damned and evidence links him to the deaths of several Valiants who were set to compete against him in sparring matches. It's like a thick cloud of animosity permeates from his being. He glares everyone down and dares them to challenge him.

The rest of the Tournament area is joyful. Spritely music plays and the people tend to be in good spirits. The competitors learn their mounted combat, which I have no doubt will eventually tie in heavily with their fight against the Lich King. Even though they are in separate tents, the Horde and Alliance coexist peacefully here and prepare themselves together for their common fight. It truly warms the spirit in a land that could freeze your very bones.

What will be the fate of the Black Knight? No doubt some combatant will eventually try and execute him for his crimes. He is of little consequence. I have faith in the good people who both work and play here. My heart warmed, I now return to Dalaran to rest.