Chapter 1

Orcs and Humans

Here I shall tell the great story of Warcraft, the legend, the characters, the dates, the battles. Its a great story, it needs to be told. I hope you find it interesting.

Sir Anduin Lothar was Armsman to the Brotherhood of the Horse, and a warrior in the kings service. The tale of his battle with the Orcs begins in 559 AD

.

Sir Anduin Lothar

All has been peaceful for many generations and the reign of King Wrynn III is a prosperous one. The constant bickering and infighting that marred the rules of former Kings has no place in the court of Wyrnn. The child sorceror Medivh is born of a coupling between the court conjurer and a mysterious traveller. After the child is born, the woman disappears and the baby is taken into the court as a ward of the kingdom.

564

The child prince Llane is born o King Wrynn and Lady Varia. This is their first and only offspring, but the birth of a son marks the continuation of their line. It is a grand day in the Kingdom that is celebrated by great feasts and tournaments. King Wyrnn proclaims the day to be a time for festival for the duration of his rule, and to mark the occasion gives each citizen of Azeroth one gold sovereign.

571

The marking of the Age of Ascension from childhood to adulthood is one of great anticipation for both parent and youth. Medivh attains that time and is expected to be given the title as Apprentice Conjurer to the Court. On the eve of this occasion, the boys' sleep is troubled by dark dreams of figures giving chase through deep chasims. Waking in a cold sweat. Medivh makes his way to the bedchamber of his father. As the conjurer reaches out to touch his fevered brow, a burning fire ignites in the childs eyes. This backlash of power must have reaches as far as Northshire Abbey, for within the hour, over 100 clerics arrived at the castle.

Only by combining their abilities with the powers of the Conjurer were one hundred enough to contain Medivh. As magiks unimagined poured forth from him, the boy screamed in unholy pain at the energies that were channeling through him. Hours passed, perhaps even days, for time seemed to stand still as the onslaught grew in fury. Then, as simply as one snuffs a candle, both father and son crumpled into a heap. The Conjurer lay dead, drained of all life, and Medivh fell into a deep sleep - his heart barely beating, and only the faintest of breath escaping his lips. After long discussion, the King and the Abbot of Northshire agree that Medivh should be taken to the Abbey for the safety of both child and kingdom.

577
Llane reaches his Age of Ascension, and the full station of Prince of Azeroth is bestowed upon him. At this ceremony, tens of thousands of devoted subjects come to offer their wishes of support and long life. During the evening feast with family, and those close to the crown, a cold wind began to chill the air. A gentle breeze at first, it grew in intensity, until the doors to the great hall were blown off their hinges. As the guests leaned into the wind, a figure entered riding the winds like some great bird of prey.

The torches set about the great hall ignited with blue flame and the visage of Medivh was revealed. As he sat down in the front of the King's table, the guard sprang to their feet. A mere pass of his hand kept them motionless - frozen in their places. The sorcerer, now a man, explained that his years of sleep had ended. The years of constant tending from the clerics of Northshire Abbey enabled him to gain control over his powers. When his spirit and body became attuned, he awakened himself, and set out to Stormwind Keep at once. Medivh explained that he had come to repay the court for the kindness it had shown him while he was in their keeping, and to acknowledge the occasion of the Ascension ceremony for Prince Llane. From within his flowing cloak he produced an hourglass, crafted of the deepest obsidian, with sands as white as undriven snow. The young prince looked closely, but although the sand seemed to constantly sift from top to bottom, the lower half never filled, and the top never emptied. Medivh claimed that these sands represented the people of the kingdom, and so long as the glass never emptied, the reign of King Wrynn would not fail.

583
Six years passed, and the land slowly grew sick. Crops began failing in the richest soils of the kingdom. Children were stricken ill and never fully recovered. Even the moods of the subjects of Azeroth seem dark. The weather would become unseasonably cold during the harvest, and the summer sun scorched the earth and made working out of the shade almost unbearable. Neither cleric nor conjurer could fathom what could be the cause of this change in the lands. More and more people became disheartened, and what once would have been looked over, now caused bitter argument.

During a bleak morning, Prince Llane rushed to his father's side, carrying the hourglass. During the night, the sands had run down from the top, and it was near emptied. King Wrynn took the glass into his hands, and a chill ran through the very core of his being. As the last sands tricked to the bottom of the glass, a great crashing sound was heard at the gates of Stormwind Keep. Suddenly, the grounds were filled with hideous creatures. Gross deformities, a cruel reflection of humanity, they swarmed over the King's guard and tore them to shreds. King Wrynn sent Llane and Queen Varia with an escort of knights to Northshire Abbey, promising to call for them when the foul beasts had been destroyed. That day has not yet come.

584
At the age of twenty years, Llane is pronounced King of Azeroth. His tasks is clear - to rid the lands of these creatures. The few that have survived battle refer to themselves as Orcs. When questioned, they will tell little else, and prefer death to releasing information. They are cruel, sadistic and vile - make no distinctions between soldier or child, warrior or woman. They will slay anyone who they encounter without a second thought. The only humans who do not fall to the Orcish blade are those who are taken to the swamps that have festered in the east, where the Orcs have made their encampments. What they do with these people is unknown, though the worst is feared for none have ever returned.

593
Nearly ten years of skirmishes and raids along the Borderlands have kept the people of Azeroth wary, but the Orcish hordes had been beaten back into their swamps. King Llane has found that Orcs, though incredibly strong and vicious, were seldom well trained in combat, and always disorganized. This had been the key to holding them at bay, and is the weakness he hopes to exploit in the future. The mystery that no Cleric or Conjurer had found the answer to, though, is the origin of these creatures.

In the tenth year of his reign, King Llane is visited by the mysterious traveler. She has come to the King with a warning that she hopes will aid him in his fight against this nemesis to his land. The coupling between the King's Conjurer and herself was intended to create a child that she could pass her knowledge and power onto before leaving this place. She did not count upon other forces in this world, and others, that would seek to dominate this child. He has now become a beacon of mystic power.

She sought him out only a fortnight before, and found that the powers that course through his veins have twisted him, making him insane. Realizing the threat he now posed, she was forced to attempt to destroy him. He all but slew her.

The battle left both combatants drained, but Medivh held enough power to banish her from his sight, and command her never to return. His magiks were strong enough that even she cannot break this bond, and so can offer no aid in his downfall. The traveler also informs King Llane that it was Medivh who was responsible for the coming of the Orcs to Azeroth, during the battle with his father, he inadvertently opened a gateway to the domain that they, and many other foul creatures, call home. The orcs are disciples of chaos, however, and not even Medivh has the power to control them.

Although the battle has Medivh in a greatly weakened state, the traveler warns that there will be a time when Azeroth will be forced to deal with him. Her partings words to the King were of her hope that the sorcerer would not become so strong, by that time, that the whole of this world would suffer.

Stirrings of war now come from the swamps. The attacks upon our settlements once scattered and poorly executed, have now become more organized. The King has found it necessary to send footmen and archers to protect settlements along the Borderlands. Rumors of the rising of a great Orcish War Chief have been heard about the land. He is heard to be a harsh leader who has gathered the feuding Orcs under one banner. King Llane's scouts and spies have found him to be as cunning as he is bloodthirsty. This foul creature's name is Blackhand, and his control of the Orcish hordes could spell doom for Azeroth. The King has ordered me to seek out new recruits to train the rudiments for combat, for the time has come to call upon the people of Azeroth and prepare for the kingdom for war.

Chapter 2

The Tides of Darkness

Thus, united in arms, against a common foe, the alliance stands at the shores of destiny and awaits the coming of, the Tides of Darkness

My name is Aegwyn, and for over one thousand years I have wandered the realms of this world and endeavoured to safeguard the people of its lands against the ethereal powers of the Great Dark Beyond. I have seen mighty kingdoms rise and fall. I have witnessed the deeds of high nobility and the lowliest of rabble both conspire and define the destiny of mankind.

It has been only recently that I have, regrettably, become involved in the matters of men. For countless ages it has been the charge of my Order to shelter and protect mortal man from the mysteries of the Great Dark, and the palpable, heinous evils of the realms beyond. To battle these dark forces of the Twisting Nether we were given considerable power, and longevity that of even the ancient Elves. With this power come one grave burden - The Guardian must not interfere with the affairs of men until the time comes when a successor must be chosen and the mantle of guardianship is passed to another.

Thus did I - Aegwyn, last Guardian of the Order of Tirisfal - judge that my time had come. Forty-two winters had passed since I first came to the kingdom of Azeroth in search of the Conjurer Nielas Aran. It was he whom I had chosen to sire the heir of my powers. Nielas was exceptionally talented in the simple conjurative magiks of men, and I believed that he would be the perfect mortal father for my child... and so he was....

I gave birth to a son and named him Medivh - or "Keeper of Secrets" in the ancient tongue of the Elves - in the fall of the year 559. I transferred all of my knowledge and power into the infant, locking it deeply within him to manifest itself only when he reached physical maturity. Believing that my work of this world was done and seeing that my son would be cared for by Nielas' people, I wandered across the field of time, preparing myself for the passing.

I kept a distant, watchful eye on my son for much of his life. I was assured that the deep-seeded altruism of Tirisfal would guide him in his trials and temper his heart and mind as to make him worthy of the Guardianship that was, I believed, his destiny.

On the eve of the marking of his thirteenth birthday, the power locked deep inside of my son awakened. Unable to deal with the raw, cosmic energies surging inside of him, Medivh suffered a massive psychic trauma. He was pacified by the good Clerics of the Northshire. They removed the youth to their sacred Abbey and for six years tended to his all but comatose body.

Eventually, Medivh awakened from his sleep seemingly in full control of his faculties and powers. Yet, underneath the confident and almost arrogant facade, I somehow knew that my son had become malevolent and corrupt. The wisdom and power that was his birthright had been perverted by distant forces within the Twisting Nether, altering the Human part of his soul and marking him with its evil touch forever.

It was not until the first wave of those wretched creatures known as the Orcs thundered through the dark rift that I realized how incredibly dangerous my son has become...

With his mastery over the arcane energies increasing almost by the moment, Medivh had set out to probe the extent of his ability to manipulate the world around him. Delving into the forbidden arts of Necromancy, Medivh began to unravel the mysteries of life and death. He took to consorting with Daemons from the lower planes, using their powers to augment his own. His hunger for power became stronger, and with every minor success Medivh fell ever deeper into the dark abyss of the Great Dark Beyond. It was then, in the midst of swirling chaotic hallucinations, that Medivh first encountered a world beyond his own and captured a glimpse of the aberrant, murderous denizens of that place.

Here at last, was the tool that Medivh had been searching for...

Desirous of complete dominion over Azeroth, Medivh used the insights gained from the knowledge of Tirisfal to strike a bargain with Gul'dan the Warlock - the mightiest of the rulers on the dark, red world that haunted Medivh's visions. Communicating through deep trances and astral projection, Medivh told Gul'dan of an ancient tomb lost beneath the north sea that contained power beyond imagination. It was to this tomb that I had banished the ancient Daemonlord Sargeras after a long and exhausting battle eight hundred years before. Even I cannot say whether or not the power of Sargeras remains entombed there. The promise of incredible power from a true monarch of the underworld was enough to make the insatiable Gul'dan agree to do Medivh's bidding. Medivh agreed to furnish the location of the Tomb of Sargeras to Gul'dan as well as an entire world to conquer. In exchange for this gift, Medivh required total destruction of the only force be believed capable on contending his ascendancy to power - the great Kingdom of Azeroth. Thus, in the years 583, the first of Medivh's unnatural Portals was opened between the world of Azeroth and the red world of the Orcs. Although the time of my passing had drawn near, I traveled to Medivh's mystic tower to reason with him and attempt to dissuade him from a path that would surely lead to his own destruction. The power that was once Tirisfal had become so twisted inside him that my please seemed as nothing. I fought with what energy remained in my weakened body, but having given all of my powers to him so long ago, I was easily defeated and banished from his sight. The arrival of Gul'dan and the Horde War Chief Blackhand heralded a war that tore the realm of Azeroth asunder for nearly give years. The once rich lands of the kingdom were razed and left fallow by the merciless Orc armies. And yet, for all of his craft and guile, Medivh did not survive to see his plans come to fruition. My son was killed by a bold Azerothien raiding party who broke into his tower and slew him in the very room where he first made contact with the minions of the Horde. Even the great War Chief Blackhand was eventually destroyed as his ultimate victory drew near, betrayed by his servant Orgrim Doomhammer.

The greatest loss to the peoples of Azeroth came when King Llane, their benevolent and just ruler, was killed as Stormwind Keep fell under siege and was overthrown by the Orcish Hordes. Only the valiant leadership of Anduin Lothar, Knight errant in the Brotherhood of the Horse and a hero in the war, allowed the survivors of Azeroth to escape from their decimated homeland with their lives.

Even with Medivh and his vile magiks gone, the Portal continued to channel hundreds of Orcs into the Human lands every day. With the death of Blackhand, Orgrim was quick to seize control over the Blackrock clan - the most powerful Orcish force on Azeroth. While others still vie for supremacy over the rest of the scattered Orc clans, Gul'dan, the infamous Warlock and chieftain of the Stormreaver clan, is rumored to be amassing a great navy to find the legendary Tomb of Sargeras for himself. Rend and Maim, the barbarous sons of Blackhand, also have secured a strong following amongst the Orcs, and hope to wrest ultimate control of the Horde away form the treacherous Doomhammer.

Although other fractions grow stronger within the chaotic Horde, it seems certain that all of the clans will follow Doomhammer's plans to hunt down and destroy the renegade Humans of Azeroth wherever they choose to run...

The Alliance of Lordaeron

With the arrival of the Azerothien refugees upon the shores of Lordaeron, King Terenas formed a council of delegates from each of the seven kingdoms under his rule. Recounting terrible tales of destruction and carnage wrought by the Orcish invaders in Azeroth, the Steward Lord Auduin Lothar convinced the sovereign of Lordaeron to unite themselves against this great threat. Despite much quarreling and debate, the lords acquiesced to Lothar found a strong ally in his long time friend Admiral Daelin Proudmoore of the seaside to offer his support to this newly forged Alliance, sensing that time for glorious battle was at hand. These warriors were not the only ones to get ready for battle...

As the holy writ commandeth that the whole armor of righteousness be worn in the war against evil, Alonsus Faol - Abbot of the now destroyed Northshire Abbey - convinced the ecclesiastic ministers of Lordaeron to gird their priests and followers alike with weapons of war. As the guardians took up swords of light to defend the heavens, so must the holy men of earth be prepared to combat the dark tide that was quickly approaching from the south.

From the ancient subterranean halls of Khaz Modan came the stoic Dwarves of Ironforge, reporting that the Orcs had already begun to assault their mountain kingdom. The Dwarves offered their support n arms and ingenious technologies to the Alliance, who in turn assured them the Orcs would be driven back at all costs.

The reclusive Elves of Silvermoon ventured forth from the shadowy forests of Quel'thalas to offer their services to the Alliance. Their magiks, so closely tied to the forces of the earth, had shown evidence that the Orcs had been defiling the very lands or Lordaeron as part of their sinister plans. The ill-bred prejudice that had existed for eons amongst the three races put aside, and a bond was formed between these ancient neighbors. This bond would become a force known across the whole of Lordaeron as the Alliance.

Thus, united in arms against a common foe, the Alliance stands upon the shores of destiny and awaits the coming of the Tides of Darkness

The Rise of the Shadow Council

Like an elemental force of havoc and destruction we thundered through the lands of the Dranei devasteting all that we beheld. Not one life was spared. No building was left standing. The only traces of their existance were the blood-soaked fields they had worked on for nearly five thousand years and the rank, acrid smell of the huge victory fires that consumed the bodies of their young. The Dranei were a weak people - hardly worth the effort of our raiding sweep. In the end, however, even these simple victories serve to keep the inferior in their place...

It has always been so with my kind. The savage, brutal tendencies of the masses are easily manipulated by those who hold true power. Power is the true force that drives the great destructive machine that is the Horde. Those who imagine themselves in possession of this power rally around their clans bannersof violence. Yet without a common foe, even the leaders of the Orc clans blindly turn upon each other. The appetite for destruction that prevails amongst these fools drives the Horde; might and might alone is honored above all things.

I am Gul'dan - the greatest of all Warlocks and Initiate of the Seventh Circle of the Shadow Council. No one knows the dark, burning allure of ultimate power better than I.

In what passed as my youth, I studied Orc magiks through the tribal Shaman of my clan. My natural talent for channeling the cold, negative-energies of the Twisting Nether brought me notable standing amongst the other Shaman, and I knew that even Ner'zhul, the greatest of my teachers, became jealous af me as my abilities grew ever stronger.

My aspirations rose higher than those of my peers and masters alike, for I knew that the scope of their vision was limited by their devotion to the advancement of the Horde. I cared nothing for the Horde or its petty politics. I cared for this world over which we had complete dominion. I cared only for the chance to fathom the spiraling mysteries of the Great Dark Beyond. I had begun secret explorations of energies far beyond the scope of anything that my so-called tutors could possibly comprehend. It was at this time when I discovered a being of immense power - the Daemon Kil'jaeden. I was in awe of his heartless fury. To witness his awesome power was to all but consumed. In the fleeting, fevered nightmares he brought me, I touched the essence of that which lies Beyond. Within me an unfathomable lust was sewn - a desire to wield the fury of etheral storms and to stand unscathed within the dying hearts of burning suns.

Under the tutelage of Kil'jaeden, I realized how limited even my understanding had been. Untold histories of ancient Daemon races and primal magican dimensions were made known to me. I learned that there existed worlds without number, scattered throughout the darkness beyond the sky - worlds to which I might lead the Horde as only one of my abilities could. Though I remained with my people on the dark, red world of the Dranei, I soon learned to project myself into the depths of the Twisting Nether, being driven nearly mad by the whispering chaos contained therein. Although it seemed it would mean my death, I was irresistibly compelled to continue my sojourn until, unbound from my corporeal existence, I understood the whispers. It was then that I first spoke to the dead...

Ancestral worship has long been at the heartof Orcish religion. While nearly all of the Orcish Hordes believed that our dead elders watched and guided us from the depths of some lost realm of chaos, I believed this notion to be a product of ritual and not reality. Within teh Twisting Nether I discovered that the spirits of the dead di linger on, floating on the astral winds between the worlds. I learned that they kept their endless, silent vigil over the clans in hope of finding some means of escape from their lifeless torment. I knew then that these spirits of the dead would be a useful tool for anyone who cuold bind them to his will.

Years passed. My apprenticeship under Kil'jaeden had allowed me to become the most powerful warlock the clans had seen in many generations. My place within the Horde was a respected leader, but as ever, tensions ran high amongst the clans. The destruction of Dranei left nothing upon which the great beast of war- could feed. After centuries of violence and warfare, we had finally conquered the whole of our world. With no enemies left to crush and no new lands to conquer, the clans had fallen into a state of utter anarchy. Minor disputes between clans led to open battle and massive bloodshed. Those chieftains who attempted to assume the position of of overlord soon found themselves slaughtered by the ravenous legions of the disheartened Horde. I knew that the time had come to claim the mantle of power that I had so long neglected.

I quickly gathered together the few Warlocks who had shown some spark of passion and desire to rise above the petty quarreling of the clans. To these Warlocks I bestowed the knowledge of the dead by leading them in secret rituals and communing with the spirits of the Twisting Nether. Those who were incapable of channeling this power were destroyed. After a time a pact was forged between the members of our circle and the dark spirits whose energies we had learned to invoke. I would use my place among the Warlocks to shape the thoughts of others while, cloaked by a veil of secrecy, they would be immune to the caprices of the bloodthirsty masses. Thus did the Shadow Council come to be.

Within a few short months the Shadow Council had its hand in all of the important political matters within the Horde. Nothing occured within the Horde that we did not know about, and many events took place by our design - so cleverly implemented that even the clan cheiftains were oblivious to our manipulations. Before half a year had passed, we had assumed near total control of the inner workings of the Horde. Yet, behind all of our secret machinations, there loomed the silent and ominous shadow of the Daemon Kil'jaeden.

In pursuit of furthering our magical resources, I opened a new school of magical discipline that became known as Necromancy. We began training young Warlocks in the arcane mysteries of life and death. Again, with tutelage from the Daemon Kil'jaeden these Necrolytes delved into the dark arts, eventually gaining power enough to animate and control the bodies of the newly dead. Every victory - every success - left me with an emptiness I could not fill. I came to realize that the Shadow Council could serve my purposes only to an extent, and thus I would require even greater power should I wish to become the true harbinger of our destiny.

The Mastery of Forces - Medivh and Blackhand

Things were well within the Horde. Though the Shadow Council kept the warring clans pacified by the promise of escape from the dying world, I knew that this new order - much like the war against the Draenei - would provide only brief respite if I could not find new lands for the Orcs to conquer. My contemplation on this matter was disturbed late one night when I was surprised by the sound of screams emanating from the Warlocks' Tower. I arrived to find many of the apprentices locked in deep trances, their faces twisted into masks of pain. The Warlocks, whom I questioned in detail, could tell me only that they had felt an unexplainable presence in their dreams. I returned to my Stronghold deeply puzzled by the fact that whatever it was had contacted the Warlocks, had made no attempt to reach me.

I sought the council of Kil'jaeden about this presence. He also was touched by this power - a power that was beyond any he had ever experienced before. Whether it was the image of a force so awesome that it could cause this baneful Daemon to actually feel fear, or my own trepidation, I fled - moving aimlessly through the Twisting Nether for what seemed an eternity.

It was during my fevered flight that the Presence finally made contact with me. It radiated untold power, but it lacked the emotionless control displayed by Kil'jaeden. My senses seemed to take control over the dread that had engulfed me, and my mind began to cipher and reason. I knew that if I could divine the desires of this force, no matter how powerful, I could use it to further my own ends. The presence identified itself as Medivh, a sorcerer from some far and distant world. We communicated not in words, but in a guarded joining of minds. His mind seemed boundless, but his thoughts moved so swiftly that it was difficult to learn anything from him. All the while, I knew that he was probing me - learning more and more about the Orcs and our magic. I could never learn as much from him as he would from me, and I soon broke contact with him.

I sought the counsel of Kil'jaeden, but he refused to answer my summons. Somehow I knew that he had forsaken his students because he was afraid of this Medivh. I found myself again doubting my skills. Could I content with a being who could intimidate my own master? I continued to venture into the Twisting Nether for several weeks, all but forgetting the disturbance that had caused me to question myself. Then one night, Medivh appeared to me in dreams...

"You fear me, for you do not understand me. See my world and understand your fear. Then fear no more"

I was powerless to resist what came next

...barren wastes...
...dark swamps, teeming with life...
...endless fields of emerald grasses...
...forests of magnificent trees...
...farmland filled with rich harvests...
...villages of proud, strong people...

Images came, flashing much too quick to comprehend. And the...something. A fleeting picture that left a longing stirring inside my soul...

...buried deep beneath...
...the ocean; dark and ruined, but still breathing...
...still pulsing with the lifeblood of earth itself...
...an ancient power...
...ancient and terrible...

I awoke. I embraced consciousness knowing all along that the dream had been real. Medivh had shown me the wonders of his world, knowing that the Horde would not be content until his world was ours...

I met with the members of the Shadow Council concerning the visions that we had seen. Although there was much debate as to the true intentions of this Medivh, informed the Shadow Council that a way to escape from our world would soon be ours. I would seek the aid of Medivh in creating a way to get to his world, and then we would subjugate his race as we had done to all others who stood before us. Although he had appeared to many Warlocks with these images of a new and fertile world, we agreed to keep the knowledge of this enigmatic message to ourselves. Those Warlocks outside of the Shadow Council who had shared in the visions were killed; for if the secret were revealed before preparations were made, the Horde would tear itself apart. Weeks passed with no word from Medivh. My attempts to contacts him were fruitless. It was as if he had erased any trace of himself from the Twisting Nether. Some members of the council gave up any hope of the wizard ever returning.

...Then the rift appeared...

It took considerable time to expand the rift enough to send the massive frame of an Orc through. The first scouts to return from the other side seemed to be driven completely mad by what they had seen. These early failures did not deter us, and subsequent quests confirmed that the world beyond this rift appeared similar to what was depicted our visions. With the combined powers of the Horde's Warlock clans and the Shadow Council, we were able to enlarge the mysterious rift so as to create a Portal. This Portal was used to move great number of Orcs into this unknown land. A small outpost was quickly built on the other side of the rift, and Orc scouts were sent to explore the surrounding areas.

The agents of the Shadow Council reported that the denizens of this world were called Humans, and their lands were known as Azeroth. We found that these Humans were a weak race, farming their fields and living peacefully in the countryside. I feared that they would prove no more a challenge that the Draenei, and would not appease the hunger of the Orcish war machine for long. The clan chieftains, quickly swayed by their lust for blood and war, a greed that it was time to leave this dying world and lay claim to the domains of Azeroth.

While agents of the Shadow Council kept close watch over the workings of the Horde, the masses looked to the clan chiefs as their leaders. Two chieftains arose who were well respected and feared by the various clans - Cho'gall, the Ogre-Mage of the Twilight's Hammer clan, and Kilrogg Deadeye of the Bleeding Hallow Clan These powerful leaders were expected to direct the Horde to a swift and savage victory over the Humans. Thus, as the Horde gradually channeled through the rift into Azeroth, Cho'gall and Kilrogg began to plan their assault against the Human stronghold of Stormwind.

The attack against Stormwind was catastrophic. Our armies, expecting to meet weak resistance, charged headlong into the enemy fortress. Surprisingly, the Human soldiers held our forces at bay. Then they unleashed warriors mounted upon beats of muscle and sinew to devastate our troops. The Humans forced our troops to retreat back into the swamplands surrounding our outpost and the Portal where, only by the invoking the shrouding mists of shadow, were we able to escape. This decisive and humiliating defeat threw the Horde into chaos. Cho'gall and Kilrogg blamed each other's incompetence for the failure, and the Orcs quickly polarized into factions that supported either chieftain. The Shadow Council desperately sought a remedy to the violence that was sure to follow, but the volatile nature of the Orcs made it difficult to appeal or wisdom. I realized that the Horde needed a strong leader that could unify the clans under his control - and be kept in his place. Thus did I first learn of Blackhand the Destroyer...

Blackhand, chieftain of the young Blackrock clan and a Raider in the Sythegore Arm, was well honored by most Orcs within the Horde. More importantly, he was extremely lustful, and this made him easily corruptible. With help from the Shadow Council, I set the eager Blackhand upon the horned throne of the War Chief. To his credit, Blackhand was a ruthless dictator who inspired awe and terror from his warriors. While the Horde rallied under Blackhand and the other chieftains acquiesced control to him, it was I who dictated policy by blackmailing and bribing Blackhand.

With Blackhand's ascension to War Chief, order was restored to the Horde. I was visited again by the visage of Medivh, who appeared ore in control of his powers, but less in control of his mind. Petitioning the Horde to destroy the kingdoms of Azeroth, but to make him ruler of its people, Medivh offered all manners of treasures and baubles to me. I assured him that his world was ours for the taking, and that he had nothing that could persuade the Horde to do his bidding. His face broke into a wicked sneer as he proceeded to show me the image of ancient tomb upon which was etched the name of Daemonlord Sargeras. The tomb of Sargeras! The Daemonlord who had instructed my own tutor Kil'jaeden was entombed upon this pathetic little world! Destiny had chosen to lay the hand upon my shoulders alone, for Kil'jaeden had told me that the lost Tomb contained power absolute - enough to make any who could control it into a living god. Medivh pledged that he would grant me the location of the Tomb if only I would use the Horde to destroy his enemies...

Thus, the Orcish Hordes made war against the kingdom of Azeroth.

The First War of Orcish Assension

We took the lands of Azeroth from the Humans and razed all that we surveyed. My personal assassin, Garona the Half-Orc, executed Azeroth's leader King Llane and returned his head to me. Although the Horde dominated Azeroth and the pathetic worms who defended it, my own plans were badly hampered.

A small band of Human warriors stormed Medivh's Tower and engaged the insane sorcerer in direct combat. As his body was slashed and torn by the swords of Azeroth, Medivh began to transmit telepathic waves of trauma across the astral plane which easily shattered even my formidable defenses. I attempted to reach into the sorcerer's mind and steal the location of the Tomb from him directly, but before I could divest the location, Medivh was killed by the Azerothiens, Having been inside his mind at the moment of his temporal death, I suffered a massive psychic backlash and fell into a catatonic state.

For weeks I slept as if dead, closely guarded by my faithful Warlocks. When I finally arose, I learned of the shift in the balance power within the Horde. Blackhand had been killed. Without my magiks and counseling to aid him, Blackhand fell prey to a surprise attack launched by one of his strongest and most trusted generals - Orgrim Doomhammer. Orgrim was quick to consolidate his power within the Horde, justifying false testimony that supported his claims of the Destroyer's incompetence as War Chief.

It seemed that the hand of fate had stuck me a harsh blow. Orgrim set out to uncover the inner workings of the Horde, leaving no stone unturned. Eventually, his spies captured my servant Garona and under intensive, agonizing torture, forced her to reveal the existence and location of the Shadow Council. She was weaker than I had expected.

Suspecting that the Shadow Council was a threat to his control of the Horde, Doomhammer led his Wolfriders in a surprise attack against my Citadel near the ruins of Stormwind Keep. The Warlocks, caught unprepared by Orgrim's assault, held off the Horde as long as their magiks would last. Having no time to rest or replenish their energies, the Warlocks fell before the wrath of Orgrim. In the end, the Doomhammer was victorious. Any surviving Warlocks were branded as traitors to the Horde. The public executions were effective in weakening my position and strengthening his.

I was taken before Orgrim and questioned at length about my involvement with the Shadow Council. Being greatly weakened by the backlash of Medivh's death as well as the energies I had expended during the battle, I found that I was in no position to either threaten nor harm the War Chief. Orgrim made it clear to me that the Horde was under his control, and that he was not as easily swayed as his predecessor. The gleam in his eye and the steel at his side bespoke his intentions, but I would not be defeated so easily. While he may have had the upper hand, I reminded him that with the death of the Warlocks, I was the last true sorcerer within the Horde. Orgrim, made impudent by his victory, agreed that perhaps I could prove useful, and agreed to let me live - by his good graces. I silently vowed that he would one day take those words to his grave.

Although his suspicions of me were never fully assuaged, I did succeed in convincing the War Chief that the Raiders were preparing to unite with the sons of Blackhand in a revolt against him. Although his claim was untrue, Orgrim was already suspicious of Rend and Maim and so disbanded the multitude of Wolfriders, sending them into the various arms of Grunt forces. To demonstrate my 'loyalty' to Orgrim and the Horde, I promised to create a host of undead riders that would be completely loyal to him alone. Although the Doomhammer did not fully trust me, the idea was sufficiently appealing, and so I was allowed to enter seclusion to create this new legion.

Even with the aid of my Necrolytes, I was unsuccessful in brining for the this undead force. Failure and weakness were all that these minions could offer me, until I sensed that while their spirits were willing - it was the flesh that was weak. I summoned them to a great alter constructed of Ironwood and Blackroot where, at the height of a black incantation, I took the lives of every last one of them. In the bloody wake of their executions, the Necrolytes would finally nourish my creation of the perfect undead servant.

Using what few resources I still controlled within the Horde, I acquired many of the long-dead corpses of the fallen Knights of Azeroth. Into these twisted and decayed forms I instilled the essences of the greater members of the Shadow Council who were quite willing to return to the mortal plane to wreak terror and havoc once again. I furnished each of the dark riders a jeweled truncheon through which they could better focus the unearthly powers they would brandish. Into these jewels were infused the raw, necromantic magiks of the freshly slain Necrolytes. Thus were the Death Knights born.

Orgrim Doomhammer was pleased with these Knights of Death. Although the spirits of the Shadow Council remained loyal to me, they feigned allegiance to the War Chief. Orgrim was well satisfied with the realization of my promise, and allowed me to go about my own affairs.

I will be patient and bide my time, pretending to be the faithful servant until the time comes to show this presumptuous, boisterous upstart who is greater between us. My designs to discover the Tomb of Sargeras still remain. I have assembled the Stormreaver clan to be my support when the season finally comes to strike back at Orgrim for his insolent crimes against me...

That day draws near - and Doomhammer cannot know what terrors await him,

for I am Gul'dan...
I am darkness incarnate.

I will not be denied.

Chapter 3

Beyond the Dark Portal

Only a few months after Nethergarde's completion, the energies of the Dark Portal coalesced and opened up a new gateway to Draenor. The remaining Orc clans, under the leadership of the elder shaman Ner'zhul, charged forth into Azeroth once again. Intent on stealing a number of magical artifacts that would increase Ner'zhul's power, the Orcs planned to open up new portals in Draenor that would allow them to escape their doomed red world forever.

Convinced that Ner'zhul was planning a new offensive against the Alliance, King Terenas of Lordaeron sent his armies into Draenor to end the Orcish threat once and for all. Led by Khadgar and General Turalyon, the Alliance forces clashed with the Orcs across the burning landscape. Even with the aid of the Elven Ranger Alleria, the Dwarf Kurdran and the veteran soldier Danath, Khadgar was unable to prevent Ner'zhul from opening his portals to other worlds.

The tremendous magical storms caused by the portals' converging energies began to tear the ravaged world apart. Ner'zhul, followed only by his most trusted servants, managed to escape through one of the portals as Khadgar fought desperately to return his comrades to Azeroth. Realizing that they would be trapped on the dying world, Khadgar and his companions selflessly decided to destroy the Dark Portal so that Azeroth would not be harmed by Draenor's violent destruction. By all accounts, the heroes were successful in destroying the portal and saving Azeroth - but whether or not they escaped the death throes of Draenor remains to be seen

The Aftermath of the second War

For long months the forces of the Alliance worked to seek out the renegade Orcs that had gone into hiding after the fall of the Dark Portal. The Blackrock, Dragonmaw, and Black Tooth Grin clans were captured by the Alliance and herded into guarded reserves and prison camps. While the leaders of the Alliance argued over what was to be done with them, Ogrim Doomhammer, the WarChief of the Horde, was placed under arrest and kept as an honored prisoner under the car of King Terenas of Lordaeron. Some members of the Alliance pleaded that the Orcs should be exterminated like animals, while others opted for a sentence of life imprisonment.

Having discussed the obvious benefits of a treaty with Doomhammer, King Terenas fevently hoped that the Orcs could be kept pacified long enough to eventually lose their lust for conquest. Thoras Trollbane of Stromgarde and Genn Greymane of Gilneas both disagreed vehemently with Terenas, resolving that the Orcs were to great a threat to leave alive. After months of debate and frustration, both leaders withdrew the support of their nations from the Alliance. Azeroth alone stood fast in its comitment to the Alliance. Even with the dynamic you Varien Wrynn seated upon Azeroth's throne, the distance between the kingdoms of Azeroth and Lordaeron made their union a hollow one.

Amid the strife that was slowly dissolving the great Alliance, the fact remained that the once vast numbers of the Horder were no more. The Twilight's Hammer and Stormreaver clans were decimated by their own brethren in civil wars that erupted during the War. The Burning Blade clan was routed and ultimately destroyed by troops under the command of Uther Lightbringer during the Final Battle at the Portal. Only the Bleeding Hollow clan was left unaccounted for as the cunning Kilrogg Deadeye managed to evade the best efforts of the Alliance to capture his clan. Elven scouts were placed on continual patrol within the Black Morass searching for any sign of the renegade Bleeding Hollow.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Suspended ominously above the Black Morass, a tear in the fabric of reality hung like a disembodied eye, keeping watch over the ruins of the Dark Portal. This rift was the remnants of the twisted wizard Medivh's original Portal into Draenor - the dark, red world from which the Orcs passed into Azeroth. The Kirin Tor of Dalaran traveled to the land overlooking the ruins on this site and constructed the Citadel of Nethergarde to serve as guardian should the rift ever open again...

On the Eve of Summer in the year 606, a freak darkness swept across the Black Morass. All attempts by the mages at Nethergarde to probe into the darkness were futile, but they could sense the the rift was growing once more. Then, as if from a dream, the mages heard the sound of a marching army. Hundreds strong, the sounds of armor and sword charged through the ruined portal and quickly fell silent. The thunderous shrieks of Dragons crying to the skies passed overhead, and then as suddenly disappeared into the gloom. Venomous undead whispers, barely audible under the clash of metal plates seemed to echo and repeat one phrase - "We will return..."

When the darkness lifted, the portal was visible once again. It illuminated the ruins as it always had, but the eerie light seemed to play tricks with the shadows. It was only upon closer inspection that the trampled mud that marked the passage of the Bleeding Hollow clan from Azeroth was found to be more than mere illusion.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Bleeding Hollow crossed over into Draenor and rejoined the 'old clans' that had never seen the fields of Azeroth. To many, the warriors of the Bleeding Hollow were considered mighty heroes as these Orcs had been living in the Human lands for over thirty years. Kilrogg met with the Elder Shaman Ner'zhul who now controlled the remaining clans in Draenor. The Shaman ordered that the newly arrived Death Knights, Trolls and Dragons were to be used by all the clans in conjuncture. Ner'zhul also informed Kilrogg of his plan to retrieve certain artifacts from Azeroth as to open rifts into other worlds and take the Orcish Hordes to great victories beyond the Dark Portal...