Warmth, Life, Light

*From the Writings of Dakore, Shaman of the Horde*

I have always believed that the lives of mortals is driven primarily by three positive forces. The first of these is warmth, the second is life, and the third is light. If you take away any one of these things you lose something of what makes existence more tangible: without warmth there is cold, without life there is death, without light there is darkness.

Granted, not all of these things are required to exist, as our Forsaken allies have proven time and again. I look at Sylvanus and her followers and I do see, however, that they have come to hold a bit more warmth, liveliness, and illumination than the members of the Scourge. For this I at least recognize them as a people, and not just simple abominations that others would see them as.

To walk where mortal beings truly have no business being though is quite the experience. At least the cold, harsh heights of the Storm Peaks had life and light to them, and those rocky, snow ridden places had more warmth than what I am feeling now. Icecrown literally is a land of nothingness. It has no warmth, it has no life, it has no life. It is a place of perpetual death.

No wonder this is the bastian of the Lich King and the Scourge. No where else on Azeroth or Draenor can you find a place like this. I doubt you could find a place like Icecrown on many other worlds. There is nothing natural about it, not anymore. The ice is devoid of anything resembling life. If anything were living beneath it...well, one can hope.

Everyone once in a while though, a spark will emerge and give a dead land a flicker of life, light, and hope. I saw one such spark after we took Crusader's Pinnacle from the Scourge, making a new base of operations for the Argent Crusade. Highlord Fordring asked me to search in the northern parts of the glacier for one of his missing crusaders, named Bridenbrad. It took some time for me to find his tiny encampment tucked away into the hills, but eventually I found the human named Bridenbrad.

I often have to remind myself that when dealing with humans, dwarves, and draenei that not all of them are my enemies, members of the Alliance. Instead, the are part of the Argent, so I look upon them as allies, and thus I approached this lone human as such. He bid me keep away from his camp at first, and there I learned that he had been afflicted by the undead plague.

Such a terrible fate to befall a grand crusader against the Scourge, and a sign that the world does not know justice by letting him be turned to undeath. Not if I had a say in the matter. Luckily, Fordring was not about to let this go either.

The powers of renewal, life, and light, as he put it, would help to save Crusader Bridenbrand. We tried the warming powers of renewal first, and I ventured to the sacred groves of Moonglade. There I spoke to Keeper Romulos, who, after a favor was done for him in the dangerous nethers of the Emerald Dream, granted his boon for Bridenbrand. I took it back to the crusader and laid it upon him, and though he was renewed in strength, the plague still gripped him.

Next we tried my beloved Alexstraza, the Life Binder, to grant her boon, which she gladly gave, again after services rendered which I in turn were glad to give. Her boon was her own fiery breath, and with hope the burning essence of the Red Queen could purify Bridenbrand of his affliction. Sadly, it was not to be. The Scourge Plague is a stubborn contagion, I will give it that at least, unwilling to let go of its victims, even in the face of such power.

There was one final hope, and now I was travelling back to my old home of Outland to see the greatest bastion of light that could be had: A'dal of the Naaru.

He granted his boon, and I travelled back to Icecrown to give this final gift to the fallen crusader, only to find that I was too late. Bridenbrand gave his last breath to thank me for all I have done as I laid the given powers of light on him, and though the light entered his body it could not spare his life. As saddened as I might be by this outcome, my heart was lifted as A'dal himself appeared there in Northrend, and suddenly the surrounding dead, cold, and dark of Icecrown seemed brighter and more alive. I watched as he took up the spirit of Bridenbrand and kept him from turning into the undead, thus, even though he died, he was still saved.


I cannot feel remorse about what transpired here. Not now. I am grateful that there is still positive power to contend forces like the Scourge or the Burning Legion, paragons of nothingness. These negative influences still have force though and the world can still be covered by them.

We must stand strong against the night.

The Highlord and the Watcher

*From the writings of Dakore, Shaman of the Horde*

My first port of call in Icecrown is the now besieged Argent Crusade Outpost, the Argent Vanguard. There, for the first time, I met Tirion Fordring, Highlord of the Argent Crusade. He has been a friend to the Horde in the past, heard much of him from Eitrigg, and I know of him to be the few honorable humans to have lived.

Also there was a person known as the Ebon Watcher, and seeing him stand beside Tirion Fordring is like seeing ablolute darkness and complete light standing next to one another. I have seen a few death knights in my time, fought beside them even as many have rejoined the ranks of the Horde, and I can tell that this must be the mast of the Ebon Blade ranks. I hear Fordring call him by the name of Darion.

In that conversation was a debate. The Argent Crusade's advance through Icecrown has been halted at the doorstep by swift, powerful counterstrikes from the Scourge, aided by the nerubian spiders. I overheard this Darion urge the Highlord to set aside his sense of honor and fight the Scourge on their own terms. Ha! Allies they may be, but death knights all the same. I agree with Fordring. We cannot abandon who we are in this battle or any other.

But as I look out on the field of battle, the crusaders who fight and die against the scourge, I begin to have doubts, abut a lot of things.

Icecrown

*From the writings of Dakore, Shaman of the Horde*

Our final goal of Northrend, bastion of the Scourge and the Lich King.

I have never known a land that so adhered to the ideals of death: all the bleak darkness, the ice and cold, and undeath of this place.

This is truly a land of nothingness, just like its denizens and its evil master.

Vengeance

*From the writings of Dakore, Shaman of the Horde*

Loken is dead. The treacherous titan fell to the power of brethren of the Horde, our storms too much for his. His dwelling, the Halls of Lightning, was another bastion of Ulduar, which he had taken control of, and many of his greatest servants tried to stop us, but they all fell, and so did he.

I am haunted by his words though upon his death. Yogg-Saron, an Old God, has been controlling him like a puppet, and this ancient beast of old times now seaks to be free of his prison?

Where is this prison, I wonder. As I step out of the Halls of Lightning and look up at the main bastion of Ulduar and its impossibly tall steaples, I wonder what lies within that the Titans have kept hidden.

In time, we shall see.

That Dwarf Again....

*From the writings of Dakore, Shaman of the Horde*

The Horde has been on his tail for weeks through Northrend, tailing him from the Grizzly Hills and now into the Storm Peaks. That search has been called off, for Brann Bronzebeard of all people has become an ally to the Horde, despite all that has happened.

I must report he has been honorable in our agreement to work together. An explorer to the core and driven only by the pursuit of knowledge, he does not know the same type of greed that plagues the hearts of most Alliance scum that I know. His motivation is to learn and discover new places.

I really would like to introduce him to my friend Xarantaur someday. I believe the Witness and Brann Bronzebeard would get along fine exchannging bits of knowledge and lore.

There is time for that later though. My most recent acquantance with Brann has took me through a place known as the Halls of Stone, one of the wings of the great temple of Ulduar, a Titan made structure in the isolated parts of Storm Peaks. Here we found more of Loken's Henchmen and their attempts to transmute the denizens of stone into beings of iron. With the death of Sjonnir The Ironshaper, who was overseeing this process, we can now hope that the creation of Loken's Iron Army will come to a halt.

One thing remains though, and Brann Bronzebeard has the right idea as well.

Loken must be destroyed.

Reckoning? ...Betrayal

*From the writings of Dakore, Shaman of the Horde*

I swear that Northrend's foundations are built upon betrayal. Drakuru, the incident at the Wrath Gate, and now this.

I am such a fool. I should have seen through the illusions, the lies, and I would have known that the wench, Lok'lira, was really Loken in disguise. All of his plans and my own involvement, as it seems, was to draw Thorim out of hiding and allow him to be delivered into the hands of Loken and his dark master. All I could do was watch as that power reached out and took the Stormlord away, and all the while I heard that laughter. It was the same that haunted my dreams, a dread fear that whispered that I would turn against my allies. An ancient...evil power...

They are gone now as I write this, fled back to Ulduar and, for now, beyond my reach. My questions tear through my heart and mind. First, we must deal with Loken, and I have no doubts that the Sons of Hodir will agree. That will undoubtadly be the next step. Beyond that I have to wonder what the fate is of Thorim and Veranus, now in the clutches of this evil, Loken's master, Yogg'Saron.

All I can think about is what we have ahead of us.

When Titans Clash...er, yeah.

*From the writings of Dakore, Shaman of the Horde*

The tasks have been completed. The relations between Thorim and the sons of Hodir have been repaired, Thorim now has his great proto-dreak mount returned, as well as his great hammer of storms, Krolmir. A magnificant weapon. Great storms can be made small, but I can tell that weapon is too mighty for even my hands.

Now comes the next step: Confront Loken.

As the story goes, Loken and Thorim are brothers, and with the Loken's betrayal of his post as a Watcher came other betrayals as well, including crimes against his own family. I grew angry when I heard Thorim tell me the tail of how Loken slew his wife. No greater crime exists among the orcs than to betray one's own blood, and the same honor that binds and orc also binds a titan.

I hope to be there when Thorim teaches his one-time-brother this harsh lesson.

Thorim

*From the Writings of Dakore, Shaman of the Horde*

He resides in his temple at the top of highest mountin in all of the Storm Peaks, sitting in a throne and more kingly than the Lich King or that Alliance wretch could ever hope to be, just one of his feet great enough to crush any single mortal without much thought. I wonder if this being is one of the titans of old. However, when I look into the face of this being, this Keeper Thorim of the Temple of Storms, I am reminded of my own people during their lethargy of demonic powers lost.

He sits up here, brooding in silence, looking more pathetic than your average human despite all his great power. The old crone, Lok'lira, has guided me to this place after the long battles with the other Vrykul wenches, and now there is another step in my purpose here. What my next step is will have to wait, for my old bones creak and I must rest.

The titanic being sitting on his throne makes no motion in protest as I make a fire in his temple and settle myself for the evening. He just sits there, continuing to brood.

The Engine of the Makers

*From the writings of Dakore, Shaman of the Horde*

It is obviously not natural made, easily surmised by the mear sight of it, and I think all the dwarves and gnomes and goblins in the world could study it for years and still not figure out what its purpose is. It is just one of the many wonders of these peaks left behind by the Titans.

What more can these beings do? The powers of the elements that I wield in battle were long ago bested by the power of the Titans, and in the aftermath of that war they refined the world how they saw fit, bringing order to chaos.

I look at these marvels and I think them not natural, but then when I think of those who made them, I wonder...

What really is natural?

The Storm Peaks

*From the writings of Dakore, Shaman of the Horde*

There comes a time in every being's life when he make his first steps into a much larger world. Such times are always felt in the early years of childhood, for man and orc alike, when he must walk away from the home that was his whole world and take his first steps in a larger one.

An orc who has lived as long as I have, who has seen and experienced such things, I believed that I have seen all there is to see in this world and I would not be making any new steps into any new worlds.

I was wrong.

I know that now as I look up at the icy mountains of the Storm Peaks, and I can tell that this place is unlike any other that I have ventured in through my long years. Whatever might be waiting for me in these mountains, I know two things. I know that whatever is causing me to have these dreams, visions of me fighting my own comrades, as well as the several whispers I have heard since coming to Northrend, I will find it somewhere here. Also, I believe I will find my destiny here, whatever that should be.

I notice that there is something peculiar about these mountains though as I brave their snowy heights. Twice in my ventures I have seen signs of such giant machinery that it could only be true that these mountains as a whole were not made by nature's hands, but were built by something else entirely. What power could build such wonders? The legends of the titans are not unknown to me, but to think that the ancient enemy of the Old Gods could have constructed such things as this is too much for one orc to grasp.

I have little time to dwell on it, for there is much work to be done. I have recently met a Vrykul hag who has offered me her assistance, and I am obliged to give mine as well. I intend to end my contract with her as quickly as possible, because I do not enjoy wearing the guise of a half-giant woman.

Making Deals With Gods

*From the journal of Dakore, Shaman of the Horde*

Shalazar Basin is a spectacular region. I would not have dreamed that such a land existed in such a place as Northrend, and whatever power it is that keeps it, the land is vibrant and wild.

I have a theory though that the five pillars, four rather as one seems to have been destroyed sadly, has something to do with it. I have seen however that this cradle for life is someone fragile. It seems that the destruction of one of these mountainous pillars and the device at its top has triggered a recent avalanch from neighboring Icecrown. Scourge are beginning to invade this land, and the only one to stop them is the Avatar of Freya.

I know not who this Freya is, but I admire her ferocity in defense of this place, calling in the entire basin's wild powers to keep the Scourge out. Yet the tenacity of the undead is unrivaled and they continue to push and steadily gain ground from the avalanch. This avatar of a godess or other greater power is willing to take allies, but I am too weary now to be of much use to the Scourge. The avatar made a deal with me, a night of rest here in these wilds, under her protecting, and in the morning I will help her with the Scourge any way I can.

I wonder if she has a plan for this. I will soon see.

The Fate of the Fallen

*From the writing's of Dakore, Shaman of the Horde*

Drakuru is dead.

He was looking to use the blight crystals that he's been harvesting from the grounds below with many of the Drakkiri chiefs he's been capturing. His ultimate plan was to create an army of these blight infused warriors, perpetual juggernauts, to assualt and conquer the rest of Zul'Drak. The death knights were right that we could not let this happen. It was time that Drakuru be confronted.

I will not say I regretted the encounter. I used the very rod of dominion that Drakuru gave me, reworked by the magics of the Ebon Blade, to turn his new creations against him. Drakuru was understandably enraged, believing that he had an ally in me and thus feeling betrayed. I suppose it's poetic justice from the way he used me, and he put up a tremendous fight right up to the very end.

When the Lich King arrived again and disposed of him. I am still alive only because the wretch was amused by my betrayal of Drakuru? The very thought makes me physically ill.

All that left of Drakuru was his skull and an imprint of his final wish: just to escape and be away from this place.

That seems to be the wish of all the Scourge, deep down. Slaves they may be, and as much as they might gain power, it does not change that fact. Strip away that power, and underneath you will see a slave who desires freedom.

I can't help but wonder if you strip away the layers of the Lich King, will we find the same notion? Is he also a slave to his own power?

For the...Scourge!?!

*From the writings of Dakore, Shaman of the Horde*

I have very little time to write this. The death knight has just left with a new task, a new effort to undermine the Scourge. So far they don't see me, the ghouls and ghasts that are patrolling about, so I am allowed a moment to breath living air outside of that gross Scourge disguise, as well as write this.

I was right. It is Drakuru, in command of the Scourge forces here. I was also right in my hunch that he would be glad to see me if I were to turn up...dead, or undead rather. He thinks I am his partner in this, but just as he used me, so will I use him. He will help us crush the Scourge here in Zul'drak.

I have to go. They are coming.

The Knights of the Ebon Blade

*From the writings of Dakore, Shaman of the Horde*

I have heard rumors of the band known as the Ebon Blade, supposedly a group of Death Knights who have broken away from the Scourge. I have seen the former slaves of the Lich King, in their black, deathly armor, running through the streets of Orgrimmar, meeting the contempt of our people head on. The memories of the Scourge atrocities were still fresh in their minds, and I could not blame them of their ire then. Now this wayward band has allied themselves with both the Horde and the Alliance, former sons and daughters of all the peoples now free and returning home, despite the dark mantles they wear.

I never thought I would have to deal with these people directly though, but here I am in their forward camp in Zul'Drak, the Ebon Watch. I cannot help but hold a small bit of concern about these Ebon Watch death knights. They are suppose to be our allies against the Scourge, but I look into their cold eyes and see something unnatural there, a lust for power. Talking with Stefan Vadu leads to such conclusions as well. It is true that death knights who once served the Lich King would know the Scourge better than anyone, but hearing him say that there is nothing more effective than fighting fire with fire, it makes me pity them.

These people are not fire. Fire is a natural force, an energy given by the elements. These people are cold and darkness and death. One cannot fight ice by throwing more cold at it, nor can they fight darkness with more darkness.

It takes flame and light to fight these evil powers.

Nevertheless, I will accept their help. I've come across a black metal chocker, picked up from an undead I've slain some time ago. Instinct warned me that putting it on would be an unwise thing to do, and from what the Eben Watch commander, a human death knight named Stefan Vadu has told me, it was a wise decision. This little trinket was to turn me, specifically me, into the undead! Someone has targetted me it seems, and I think I know who it was.

If I am right, then I will possibly be in a position to undermine the Scourge from within, and I will have a chance to give a former friend a taste of those very flames. If I am wrong, then this might be my final entry...

Revelation? A Sick Joke...

*From the writings of Dakore, Shaman of the Horde*

That foul, disgusting troll.

I should have known this is the way things would turn out. I should have smelled this coming from a mile away. I allowed myself to be used though, and for that I am mostly to blaim, thinking I could trust Drakuru. Now things have been made worse, and I am heading into the ancient troll empire of Zul'drak to make things right.

I have little time to write, so I will make this short. We fought our way to the top of Drak'Tharon keep and summoned Drakuru there, as instructed. He opened the portal and the Lich King emerged from it! I had to hold myself in check, remembering the Wrath Gate and the fate of young Saurfang, but to attack now would be folly.

The revelation that Drakuru promised was that it was he who betrayed his people to the Scourge. I could only watch as the Lich King bestowed a new power on the decietful troll, giving him command of the Scourge armies in Zul'drak. I fear I have contributed in making things worse, and now I must do what I can to make things right.

I hope it is not too late.

An Old Foe Returns...

*From the writings of Dakore, Shaman of the Horde*

Him again...

At first I did not want to believe it. It has been four years since I saw his head removed from his shoulders, and he had dropped to something less than an afterthought since then. To think he has returned is wholly ridiculous.

We cannot look away from the fact that the human mage, Arugal, has returned from the dead. I saw the vision of him rise by the magics of the Lich King's elven slaves, and now he is being employed here in the Grizzly Hills. This certainly explains the rise of the Worgen in this area. And to think that the Alliance sought an acord with them, not knowing what they were getting into. It goes to show you just how foolish and ignorant they can be.

Drakuru

*From the writings of Dakore, Shaman of the Horde*

Just what is this troll up to?

I met Drakuru at Granite Springs earlier today, the latest captive to a group of trappers in the area. Normally I would have left him to his fate after being threatened with head shrinking if he ever got out of that cage he was in, but then he opened up with offerings to help with my tasks here in Grizzly Hills.

Reluctant, I nonetheless agreed, curious on what this troll from the north really now. I only hope the blood pact we made is not one I will end up regretting.

The day has passed, and I find that the more I help this troll the more dubious I become of him. I've gathered the artifacts he requested of me, his motives to have vengeance for the death of his kind at the hands of the Scourge. Why then is he having me kill more of his own people to get these artifacts and utilize their powers? What good can come of this?

He has asked me to summon him to Drak'Tharon Keep, a sacred temple to the Drakkari Trolls. What will happen when I accomplish this task, I don't know, but I feel the fool for going along with this. My instincts tell me to run and forget this business, but a pact has been made.

I must see it through.

Grizzly Hills

*From the writings of Dakore, Shaman of the Horde*

Stepping into these wild forests, at first glance one might be mesmerized the sheer beauty and natural power of this place. The trees of this area are immense. Only in the forests of Ashenvale are they so large.

However, I can tell it's just a covering. Like a wolf who was fabled to wear a sheepskin to walk unnoticed amidst his pray, I feel something sinister beneath these vibrant forests. An evil more ancient and terrible than the Scourge, and also quite familiar as well.

Anyone who communes with the spirits of this world have heard the whispers of dread surrounding old, terrible evils from ancient times, forces that once shackled this world and held everything in a chaotic flux. The reopening of Ahn'Qiraj is still quite fresh on the minds of us all, and the horror that I smell here, seeping up from the soils, the trees, is very kindred to that ancient terror. It smells like it is awakening.

I push these thoughts to the back of my mind and ride on to Conquest Hold, our main outpost in this region. I have heard that the commander of this outpost, Conqueror Krenna, has a most dour reputation of governing these parts with an iron fist.

These young orcs that are gaining positions of power are growing more and more bold and furious. On one hand, I am glad to see their high spirits flourishing in such times of great need. Against enemies like the Scourge, the Alliance, and whatever might be sleeping under this land, they will make fine, brave warriors. However, I can see what High Overlord Saurfang is concerned about. We cannot let the lust for blood seep too deeply into the hearts of these young leaders, not unless we repeat the mistakes of the past and the Horde once again becomes a mindless engine of destruction.

We have no choice to go forward now and counter the banners of our enemies by raising our own, I just hope that the price we pay is one we can actually afford.

For the Horde!!

*From the writings of Dakore, Shaman of the Horde*

We stand victorious, and the Horde has reclaimed the Undercity! Lok'tar Ogar!

Varimathras, a dubious ally for many years now, has finally shown his true colors and betrayed the Horde. For a time, Sylvanus and many of her loyal followers, loyal to the Horde, were ousted from the Undercity. Through the might of the Warchief, the Dark Lady, and the power of the Horde, we have taken it back and destroyed Varimathras!

Only to be met by another tragedy. Alliance forces have also broken into Undercity through the sewers and successfully destroyed the other traitor, Putress. When they were done with that, they charged us in the Throne Chambers and attacked us.

Some time ago I saw the human warrior once known as Lo'Gosh, a gladiator slave fighting in Horde arenas. Since then he has found his true self as king of the alliance city of Stormwind, Varian Wrynn. Now he has proven the age old fact that all warriors of the Horde know to be true. For every honorable human like Bolvar Fordragon who falls due to unjust betrayals, there is another dishonorable human who rises in power. Now the Alliance is being led by this fool!

All I see is war in the immediate future, and the times after that are uncertain. How can a man make war on a people when a much more grave threat threatens to destroy all that is. I have always know humanity as a whole was a race of dishonorable people, and it should not be a surprise that the one who calls himself their king is the most hateful and spiteful of all. I would lie if I said it was not disheartening, but now is not the time for that.

If the Alliance wants a new war with the Horde, they will be given one! They will soon learn the price of biting off more than they can chew, and humans I find can chew very little. Soon they will be force fed the entire might of the Horde and will find it a grim meal indeed.

Do you hear me, Alliance dogs!!! We are coming for you!

The Forsaken Refugees

*From the writings of Dakore, Shaman of the Horde*


Saurfang took the news of his son's fate as any Horde father would when the son's deeds were heroic, with a stalwart pride. However, even he recognizes that the time for grief is not now.

Dire news from Orgrimmar. The Warchief has declared martial law, and Saurfang has instructed me to make haste to our city and lend aid. I go with all haste and found the streets of our city overflowing with dozens, hundreds of Forsaken refugees. From what I have gathered thus far, something has happened in Undercity.