World of Warcraft Chronicle Volume 3

by Blizzard Entertainment

  It would be years before the world learned of what had transpired in Gnomeregan, and of the sacrifices the gnomes had made in the name of the Alliance.

  Lordaeron had fallen. The Alliance was crippled.

  The Burning Legion could now gather its forces in the Eastern Kingdoms with little resistance. From there, the demons would cross the Great Sea and seize the second Well of Eternity. Though Kil’jaeden had laid the foundations of this invasion, he would not lead it. That honor fell to Archimonde the Defiler.

  Whereas Kil’jaeden was a master of manipulating enemies from the shadows, Archimonde was a seasoned battle commander and tactician. He handpicked the members of his assault force, filling it with demonic soldiers who had waged war on Azeroth before. Among those who joined him was Mannoroth, the pit lord whose blood had been used to enslave the orcs to the Legion.

  By necessity, Archimonde’s force was small. There was simply no way to create a portal powerful enough to bring the full might of the Legion to Azeroth—not until Archimonde had harnessed the second Well of Eternity’s energies. But even just transporting him to the world would be a monumental undertaking. One of the Legion’s servants would need to create the portal on Azeroth and anchor it there.

  When the Lich King learned of this predicament, he proposed a solution to the dreadlords. He had knowledge of an artifact called the Book of Medivh, which was now under lock and key in the city of Dalaran.

  Many years ago, Medivh had infused the book with some of his immense Guardian power. He had also recorded details of the spells he had used to create the Dark Portal, the gateway connecting Draenor to Azeroth. The energies stored in the book, along with its instructions for creating portals, would be sufficient to bring Archimonde and his vanguard into the world.

  Retrieving and using this book would not be easy. The Lich King knew that Kel’Thuzad was the key to success. Not only was he a gifted mage, but he had been one of Dalaran’s rulers. If the Scourge resurrected Kel’Thuzad, he would be able to bypass the city’s defenses and find the Book of Medivh.

  THE BOOK OF MEDIVH AND THE SKULL OF GUL’DAN

  At the end of the Second War, Archmage Khadgar and his magi destroyed the Dark Portal on Draenor. As the gateway buckled under the weight of their spellwork, Khadgar dispatched an ally to take two powerful artifacts through the portal, to Dalaran, where he believed they would be safe in the hands of the Kirin Tor. One of these relics was the Book of Medivh, and the other was the Skull of Gul’dan. The messenger only narrowly succeeded, escaping through the gateway just as it slammed shut and severed the way between Azeroth and Draenor.

  Kil’jaeden and the dreadlords were pleased with the Lich King’s plan. The demons never suspected their loyal slave’s true motives. The Lich King’s claims about Kel’Thuzad were true, but recovering the Book of Medivh was not the main reason he wanted to reanimate the human. The necromancer was one of the few servants he could rely on when he decided to rebel against the Legion.

  Recovering Kel’Thuzad’s remains fell to his killer: Arthas Menethil. The death knight had no reservations about helping his former enemy. His only concern was to serve the Lich King’s will, and serve it he did. He rallied a force of undead and marched on Andorhal, the site of Kel’Thuzad’s death.

  A shroud of decay had settled over the city and the surrounding region. Plague energies choked the land in toxic fog and blotted out the sun. Plants had withered. Livestock and wild animals had died. The once fertile breadbasket of the Eastweald was no more. It had become a warren of undead known as the Plaguelands.

  Despite the horrifying conditions, Andorhal was one of the few places in Lordaeron still under Alliance control. Uther the Lightbringer and many of the surviving paladins had gathered in the city. They used it as a headquarters from which to launch attacks against the Scourge.

  Arthas saw the paladins as easy prey, and most of them were. He stormed into Andorhal and cut down the holy warriors, the men and women he had trained with and fought alongside.

  Uther did not fall so easily. He held his own against Arthas and did what no one else ever had: he bested the death knight in combat and sent the unholy warrior sprawling to the ground. Victory was within Uther’s grasp. One blow from his Light-infused hammer—that was all it would take to end Arthas.

  But the blow never came. Though Uther was mighty, he was not as swift as Arthas. The prince recovered and struck at the paladin again and again. Arthas gave no quarter to his foe. The apprentice who had once trained under Uther, who had once been like a son to him, finally plunged Frostmourne into the great paladin’s heart.

  As he watched his former mentor die, Arthas felt nothing. Uther was just an echo of some other life. A ghost from some murky, half-remembered past.

  Uther’s death heralded the end of Andorhal’s resistance. The city fell under Scourge control. Arthas recovered Kel’Thuzad’s remains and set out for the next leg of his journey.

  The Lich King had convinced the dreadlords that they could do more than simply resurrect Kel’Thuzad. They could transform him into a lich, a spectral being infused with magic. The dreadlords believed that this new and more powerful form would help Kel’Thuzad bring the Legion to Azeroth. It would. But for the Lich King, it would also make his servant a formidable weapon.

  Granting Kel’Thuzad this new form would require a potent source of arcane energy. The Lich King and the dreadlords knew of one deep within the high elven kingdom, Quel’Thalas.

  Quel’Thalas’s culture revolved around a fount of arcane energy called the Sunwell. It empowered the high elves and bathed their homeland in eternal light. It was everything to them, and they would fight to the last to protect it.

  And Arthas would fight to the last to take it.

  EASTERN KINGDOMS IN THE THIRD WAR

  As Arthas Menethil and the Scourge marched north toward Quel’Thalas, other undead lingered in Lordaeron. Some shambled to the edges of the Plaguelands in the east. Others spilled south into a region called Silverpine Forest.

  The undead in Silverpine Forest made quick progress until their campaign ground to a halt in the shadow of the Greymane Wall. The enormous wood and stone barrier stretched across the top of a peninsula that was home to the human kingdom of Gilneas.

  King Genn Greymane hadn’t sent any Gilnean soldiers to fight the Scourge. He saw the fall of Lordaeron as confirmation that he’d made the right choice in isolating his kingdom from the world. Because of the Greymane Wall, the people of Gilneas were safe.

  The Scourge’s numbers were small at first, and Greymane was confident his people could simply wait them out. The undead would pull back once they realized they could not breach the wall. But the Scourge never flagged. They had no need of rest or food. More and more undead appeared outside Gilneas, and the army battered the wall day and night.

  On Greymane’s orders, his army amassed. The gates to the kingdom swung open, and a tide of Gilnean soldiers poured into Silverpine Forest.

  From atop the wall, Greymane watched disaster unfold. The Scourge crushed the Gilneans. Soldiers who fell in battle arose as undead and turned against their former comrades. Greymane knew it was only a matter of time before the Scourge would completely overrun his forces. The king turned to his royal archmage, Arugal, to find a solution.

  Arugal had just the thing in mind. He had learned of mythical creatures called worgen. They were wolflike in appearance, but they walked on two legs as a human would. Arugal didn’t know the worgen’s full origins, but he did know where to find them. He had sensed the beasts slumbering in another dimension—the ethereal realm known as the Emerald Dream. Summoning the creatures to Gilneas would be a challenge, but that wasn’t what concerned Arugal. According to legend, the worgen were a savage race, driven by primal fury. Controlling them would be difficult and dangerous. The question wasn’t could he bring the worgen to Gilneas; it was should he.


  Arugal warned Greymane of the worgen’s unruly nature, but the king had no other option. The wolf-beasts seemed like his only hope.

  As battle raged outside the wall, Arugal performed his summoning. He opened a rift connecting the physical world and the Emerald Dream, drawing the worgen into Silverpine Forest. The wolf-beasts wasted no time in turning their fury on the Scourge. They tore through the undead in a storm of fang and claw. The creatures were even more powerful than Arugal had expected.

  Before long, the Scourge buckled. The undead fled before the worgen and disappeared into Silverpine Forest. Then the wolf-beasts turned on the Gilneans to satisfy their bloodlust.

  It was just as Arugal had feared. Concepts of friend and foe were lost on the worgen. They simply wanted to kill.

  The surviving Gilnean soldiers retreated behind the wall, and the gates slammed shut. Greymane breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed, at first, that all was well. The Scourge were gone, and the worgen were trapped outside the wall.

  Then the first reports reached Greymane of worgen inside the wall.

  What the king and Arugal hadn’t known was that the worgen carried a curse. It had spread to Gilnean soldiers who had been bitten by the worgen—Gilneans who had retreated behind the wall. Over time, the affliction transformed the human victims into wolf-beasts. These new worgen stalked through Gilneas and spread the curse to even more citizens.

  In trying to save Gilneas, Greymane had traded one monstrous enemy for another.

  Far north of Gilneas, Arthas Menethil and the Scourge marched into the tranquil woodlands bordering Quel’Thalas. Much to their surprise, they met no resistance. The forests were oddly silent and deserted. It seemed as if the kingdom’s high elves had fled in terror before the approaching undead, but nothing could have been further from the truth.

  The elves were busy preparing for the Scourge. King Anasterian Sunstrider rallied his people into action, but he left the task of organizing the defenses and leading the military to Ranger-General Sylvanas Windrunner.

  Sylvanas came from a distinguished family of high elves. Her sisters, Alleria and Vereesa, had both earned praise for bravery in battle. Sylvanas was no exception. Like her sisters, she had fought on the front lines in the Second War, when the orcish Horde had invaded Quel’Thalas and burned its woodlands. Even before that, she had garnered a reputation as a fearless and cunning ranger while battling trolls from the nearby Amani empire.

  Sylvanas ordered most of the kingdom’s magi and priests to gather in Silvermoon City. They would serve as the last line of defense if the Scourge made it to the capital, but the ranger-general hoped that it wouldn’t come to that. Sylvanas took the rangers into the woods outside Silvermoon City, where she planned to mount a resistance so fierce that the undead would turn back.

  Known as the Farstriders, the rangers were lightly armored and highly mobile troops. Historically, they stood as the first line of defense against any intruders that threatened Quel’Thalas. It was a dangerous job, but one that carried great honor and prestige.

  As Arthas and the Scourge plunged deeper into the forests, Sylvanas and her rangers launched their attack from all sides. The fighting was fierce and frenzied. The undead moved steadily toward Silvermoon City, but Sylvanas made them pay dearly for every step taken. She was a brilliant tactician, and her dogged persistence infuriated Arthas.

  The Scourge outnumbered the rangers, and they would inevitably reach Silvermoon. Sylvanas knew her only hope was to buy the capital’s defenders time to prepare for a siege. She ordered her rangers to make a final stand outside the city. Sylvanas herself would deal with Arthas.

  In full view of Silvermoon’s glorious spires, the death knight and the ranger-general clashed. Sylvanas was fearsome, but she was fatigued from days of hard battle. Her strength faded, and Arthas found an opening.

  Frostmourne tore through the ranger-general and spilled the life from her veins.

  Death was not the end for Sylvanas Windrunner. Arthas punished the ranger-general for her defiance. He ripped the high elf’s spirit from her body and converted it into a spectral banshee. This act chained Sylvanas to the Lich King’s will. She could not disobey him, even though she wanted to. She was forced to take part in the assault on Quel’Thalas and murder her own people—the very people she had sworn to protect to the end of her days.

  ARTHAS MENETHIL’S VICTORY OVER SYLVANAS WINDRUNNER IN QUEL’THALAS

  Sylvanas’s sacrifice had been valiant, but it did not save Silvermoon. Arthas Menethil and the Scourge shattered the capital’s defenses and cut a path north toward the Isle of Quel’Danas, home of the Sunwell.

  King Anasterian Sunstrider and the surviving elves gathered aboard their fleet and retreated to the island. Protecting the Sunwell became their primary focus. They could always rebuild their capital, but the fount of arcane magic was irreplaceable. The Scourge had no ships, and the elves believed it would take time for the undead to find a way to cross the sea.

  They were mistaken.

  Arthas did not need a fleet. He had Frostmourne. When he reached the northern coast of Quel’Thalas, he dipped the runeblade into the foaming sea. The water around the weapon froze, and the ice gradually spread across the ocean until a makeshift bridge formed.

  As Arthas and the Scourge marched toward Quel’Danas, King Anasterian steeled himself for battle. If the elves had any chance of surviving, it lay with him. Anasterian was elderly, but he was wise and crafty. And like Arthas, he wielded a great weapon: an ancient sword known as Felo’melorn.

  The king dueled Arthas on the frozen shores of Quel’Danas. The keening of their two blades shook the sky like thunder. Anasterian lasted much longer against Arthas than most others had. But he was no match for the death knight. Neither was Felo’melorn.

  With one brutal strike, Arthas Menethil shattered the king’s blade. His next blow ended Anasterian’s life.

  THE TREACHERY OF DAR’KHAN

  Silvermoon City was protected by a number of magical barriers. Two were the elfgates, which were positioned at strategic points on the main road to the capital. The third and most powerful barrier was called Ban’dinoriel. It was an impenetrable shield that derived its power from the Sunwell. Arthas Menethil and the Scourge might have never bypassed these defenses if not for the high elf magister Dar’Khan Drathir.

  Dar’Khan was a talented mage, but unbridled ambition made him arrogant and vindictive. He never felt that he received the recognition he deserved. Bitterness filled his heart and darkened his emotions. Arthas sensed Dar’Khan’s inner turmoil, and he saw him as a critical ally for the invasion of Quel’Thalas. The death knight whispered in the elf’s mind and made an offer: if he served the Lich King, all the power and recognition Dar’Khan craved would finally be his.

  Dar’Khan could not resist. He betrayed his entire race and helped the Scourge destroy and bypass Quel’Thalas’s magical barriers.

  Morale crumbled among the remaining high elf defenders, and the Scourge swept over Quel’Danas. Very few elves escaped.

  Victorious, Arthas reached the Sunwell and submerged Kel’Thuzad’s remains in its shimmering depths. The death knight drew on the fount’s boundless magic and wove a spell that remade the fallen necromancer into a terrifying incorporeal lich. This transformation came at great cost to the elves. Turning Kel’Thuzad into a lich befouled the Sunwell. The fount would never be the same again. The Sunwell’s corrupted energies gradually permeated Quel’Thalas and the elves who still lived there.

  Arthas Menethil did not linger in the kingdom. His work was done. He gathered the Scourge and marched south toward Dalaran, leaving only ruins and death in his wake. The land in Quel’Thalas where he and the undead had set foot festered and died. This wound in the world later became known as the Dead Scar, and it would remain for many years.

  With the Scourge approaching Dalaran, Archmage A
ntonidas and the Kirin Tor readied themselves for battle. They evacuated most of the city’s civilians, leaving behind only a small resistance force. Though these defenders were few, they were some of the greatest magi in the world. Not only that, but Dalaran itself was a weapon. Magic coursed through the streets, and arcane barriers blanketed the city. Many of these wards would destroy any undead that touched them.

  Despite these preparations, a sense of impending doom fell over Dalaran. The Scourge had brought Lordaeron to its knees. They had ripped out the heart of Quel’Thalas. These two nations were perhaps the mightiest in the Eastern Kingdoms, perhaps the mightiest in the entire world. If they had fallen so easily, what hope did Dalaran have?

  This question plagued Antonidas. His thoughts turned to the hooded figure who had urged him to flee from the Eastern Kingdoms. Antonidas now realized that this stranger was no madman; he had been right all along.

  It was too late for Antonidas to go west. As the Kirin Tor’s leader, he could not abandon Dalaran. Protecting the city and its vaults of arcana was his duty. However, there was someone who could act on the stranger’s advice and save innocent lives: Jaina Proudmoore.

  The sorceress was initially hesitant to leave. She wanted to stay by Antonidas’s side and defend Dalaran. She also wanted to see what had become of Arthas. Jaina sensed the death knight among the approaching Scourge. She still wrestled with guilt about abandoning him at Stratholme, and she wondered if there were some way to save him.

  It was only after much debate that Jaina relented. She understood, just as Antonidas did, that the city could not hold out against the Scourge. If she and the archmage died, who would be left to heed the stranger’s warning?

  The master and apprentice parted ways. Though neither of them said it, they both knew that this was the last time they would ever see each other.