World of Warcraft Chronicle Volume 3

by Blizzard Entertainment

  The gifted engineer Sicco Thermaplugg proposed a solution: Bathe the overrun sections of Gnomeregan in lethal radiation. The gnomes would take shelter and wait for the troggs to die. It was a brutal, desperate ploy, but it seemed as if it might work. The gnomes’ leader, High Tinker Gelbin Mekkatorque, eventually agreed to the plan. It seemed better than waiting for an inevitable disaster to destroy the city.

  Unfortunately, Thermaplugg had ulterior motives. He envied Mekkatorque’s position and prestige, and he wanted to use the war to seize both for himself. Thermaplugg also chafed at how the gnomes never used their inventions to expand the power of their nation, a failing he laid squarely at Mekkatorque’s feet.

  Mekkatorque learned the truth only when Thermaplugg’s bomb irradiated the troggs—and most of the gnomes.

  In a matter of days, nearly eighty percent of the gnomish race perished. The survivors had no choice but to evacuate their own city. Thermaplugg was left behind, trapped in the horror he had wrought.

  The dwarves of Ironforge took in the refugees, and the gnomes created a small home for themselves inside the mountain, calling it Tinker Town. The future of the gnomes was uncertain, and opinion was divided over what to do next.

  Some gnomes argued that they should focus all their attention and resources on reclaiming Gnomeregan as soon as possible. Mekkatorque did not agree. Though he did plan on eventually returning to the capital, he believed the gnomes had more immediate obligations to the Alliance. The Third War had decimated the faction, and the gnomes’ allies needed all the help they could get to survive the days ahead. Mekkatorque urged his people to research new technologies that would bolster the Alliance.

  In his mind, the fates of the Alliance and the gnomes were intertwined. If the faction crumbled, Gelbin Mekkatorque and his people would never have the support they needed to restore Gnomeregan to what it once was.

  After the Third War, the balance of power among the human kingdoms shifted. Lordaeron was in ruins, and the nations of Gilneas and Kul Tiras had isolated themselves. In their place, Stormwind arose as a new bastion of leadership and military might in the Alliance. This granted the kingdom immense prestige and influence on the world stage, but it also made it a target.

  The black dragonflight still desired to crush the last remnants of Alliance power in the Eastern Kingdoms, but they wanted to do so quietly. Onyxia, in the guise of a noblewoman named Katrana Prestor, had devoted herself to weakening Stormwind. She had enlisted the help of the Defias Brotherhood, a group of human rebels who opposed the kingdom’s nobility.

  The Defias learned that King Varian Wrynn was sailing to Theramore on a diplomatic mission. They ambushed his ship, killing everyone aboard except the king, and delivered Varian to a remote island. Onyxia was waiting for them.

  She wove a dark ritual to sunder Varian’s spirit, stripping away the traits that would allow him to defy her: his strength, his stubborn resolve, his unyielding will. She intended to destroy this half of Varian, leaving a malleable shell that would appear to be a charming, regal king…who would serve blindly as her puppet.

  Before Onyxia could destroy the embodiment of Varian’s will and strength, he escaped her grasp and plunged into the sea. The waves swallowed him whole, and darkness closed in around him. Varian later regained consciousness on the distant shores of Kalimdor. Onyxia’s spell had left his mind in tatters. He had no memory of what she had done to him. He could not even recall his own name. In the days to come, he would wander the world with no notion that he was supposed to be a king.

  Onyxia was furious that this half of Varian had escaped, but her plans had not entirely fallen to ruin. She would eventually return to Stormwind with her puppet king, but only once she was sure he would serve as her unquestioning servant.

  In the interim, the people of Stormwind agonized over Varian’s disappearance. Many feared he had been killed. Varian’s young son, Anduin Wrynn, was crowned king. The legendary paladin Bolvar Fordragon was named regent lord to handle the day-to-day duties of administering the kingdom until the child was older.

  Neither Bolvar nor Anduin believed that Varian had died, and they never lost hope that they would see him again.

  The troubles of the world were multiplying at a rapid pace.

  The armistice between the Alliance and the Horde was tenuous at best. Major battles gradually erupted in strategic locations like Alterac Valley, Warsong Gulch, and Arathi Basin, bringing the two factions closer to all-out war.

  Of greater concern were threats from outside the Horde and the Alliance. In Mulgore, the tauren dealt with encroaching bands of primitive creatures called quilboar. In Elwynn Forest, human villages were besieged by kobold thieves and diseased wildlife. In Durotar, centaur warbands plotted to take over the outlying orcish lands. The crises seemed endless. On every continent, in every nation, in every region, chaos was spreading, threatening to become catastrophe.

  What the Horde and the Alliance did not realize was that this explosion of disorder was partially the work of the Old Gods. The entities were subtly fanning the flames of conflict to weaken the world’s nations. If left unchecked, those small sparks would have spread to ignite a roaring wildfire of destruction.

  But they never had a chance to spread. It was not the legendary heroes of past wars who rose up to fight for their world; it was the ordinary citizens of Azeroth who intervened. They began their journeys for different reasons. Some fought for adventure or for the noble cause of justice. Some fought for vengeance and to join the war against a hated faction. Some even fought for money and looked for ways to profit from the conflicts. Still others fought for glory, so that their names would be remembered by the entire world. And some traveled alone, while others formed mighty guilds that worked together to fight against the darkness.

  As the years passed, these extraordinary champions would be called upon to do the impossible. Without them, Azeroth would surely have succumbed to evil.

  More than two centuries ago, the sorcerer-thane of the Dark Iron dwarf clan condemned his people to enslavement when he summoned Ragnaros the Firelord back to Azeroth. The violent eruption killed many and formed a volcano that became known as Blackrock Mountain. The surviving Dark Irons carved out a stronghold in its depths called Shadowforge City. For generations, they were forced to serve Ragnaros and his lieutenants.

  The Wildhammer and the Bronzebeard dwarf clans were unable to save their distant cousins, nor were they inclined to do so. The Dark Irons had earned their fate by launching a war of aggression against the other dwarves. Now they had to live with the consequences.

  Emperor Dagran Thaurissan, a descendant of the long-dead sorcerer-thane, now ruled the Dark Irons on behalf of the Firelord. A charismatic but hard leader, he bristled at his servitude but delighted in the power Ragnaros had bestowed upon him.

  When Ragnaros ordered Dagran to prepare the Dark Irons for a new war, the emperor was overjoyed. He had long dreamed of conquering the other dwarf clans, not only to rule over them but to wield their combined power in order to break free of the Firelord’s control.

  His first act of aggression was kidnapping Princess Moira Bronzebeard, the daughter of Ironforge’s king, Magni Bronzebeard. He had intended to use her as a hostage of last resort once the war began. He believed that Magni would do anything to protect his daughter’s life, and thus would never consider any assault on Blackrock Mountain that would put her in harm’s way.

  Dagran was surprised to find that he fell in love with her. Moira had a sharp wit and a strong will, and she was not intimidated in the slightest by her predicament. The two dwarves began to speak at length about their hopes for the future. Moira was the rightful heir of Ironforge, yet her father had never believed that a woman could rule as well as a man. Dagran confided in her that he wanted to free his people from enslavement, and he was willing to do anything to achieve that. In a few short months, Moira and Dagran joined together in marri
age.

  King Magni could hardly believe the rumors that his daughter had willingly married an enemy. He recruited a covert team of Alliance champions to infiltrate the Dark Iron stronghold and rescue Moira.

  MAJORDOMO EXECUTUS LORDING OVER THE DARK IRON DWARVES IN BLACKROCK MOUNTAIN

  The Alliance team cut their way through Shadowforge City until they reached the Imperial Seat. The ensuing battle shook the mountain, but in the end, Emperor Dagran Thaurissan was slain.

  Much to the surprise of the Alliance infiltrators, Moira Bronzebeard was furious. She refused their offer of rescue and announced that she was pregnant with Dagran Thaurissan’s child.

  She had come to believe in Dagran’s plan to free the Dark Irons. She intended to carry on his work without him.

  To honor her husband’s memory, Moira Thaurissan put aside her anger at his death. The strike on Shadowforge City had left her clan in absolute chaos, and for the moment, that was an advantage. Ragnaros’s lieutenants were deeply suspicious of how loyal the wife of Dagran Thaurissan would be to the Firelord, but they were too busy trying to reestablish control over the Dark Irons to keep a close eye on her.

  She used the opportunity well. Moira quietly let out word that the Dark Iron dwarves were being forced to create a massive army for the Firelord. Dagran Thaurissan’s death had delayed the creation of that army, but not for long. Ragnaros and his forces would only become stronger as time went on. To draw as much attention as possible, Moira made sure the rest of the world knew that there were riches and artifacts of untold power hidden deep within the mountain. She hoped that some adventurous (or greedy) heroes would band together to shatter Ragnaros’s defenses and banish the Firelord back to the Elemental Plane.

  Her plan worked better than she could have ever dreamed. Before the Alliance or the Horde acted on the rumors, another force did: the Hydraxian Waterlords, elemental beings of water who were natural enemies of the fire elementals. They offered aid and rewards to anyone who would challenge Ragnaros.

  Before long, the Waterlords had recruited scores of powerful champions to invade Ragnaros’s domain in the heart of the mountain: the Molten Core. They carefully moved through the fiery stronghold, engaging and killing the greatest of the fire elementals.

  As the Molten Core’s defenders fell, the champions used the gifts of the Waterlords to destroy Ragnaros’s protective runes, leaving no barrier between them and the Firelord.

  Ragnaros’s strength was legendary, but it was not enough to slaughter the invaders. In defeat, he was banished back to the Elemental Plane.

  The Dark Iron dwarves were finally free. Any among them who had doubted Moira’s intentions begged her for forgiveness. As the widow of Emperor Dagran Thaurissan, she’d always had the right to rule them. As their liberator, she now had their loyalty.

  But her victory did not mean that times would be easy for the Dark Irons. Nor did it mean that Moira Thaurissan had given up on her husband’s dream of conquest.

  For more than a millennium, tauren tribes and the centaur had fought a vicious war, leaving countless dead on both sides. The only respite had come recently. When the tauren had joined the Horde, Warchief Thrall had made sure that his new allies were protected. Any centaur who defied their borders were taught a very painful lesson.

  For years, that had curtailed hostilities. Most of the centaur had retreated to the lifeless region of Desolace. Meanwhile, the tauren looked toward a bright future in their new home, Thunder Bluff.

  Yet the reappearance of the centaur shattered any hope of peace. Their warbands swarmed out of Desolace and laid waste to the surrounding regions. Thrall called on the emerging heroes of his faction to handle this disturbance and put it to rest for good.

  The Horde’s forces quickly discovered that the various centaur tribes were slaughtering each other just as often as they were attacking outsiders. When they investigated further, they encountered a centaur named Warug, a leader of the Magram tribe.

  Warug told the Horde that Desolace had been corrupted, and that the source of the corruption lay in a place called Maraudon. It was sacred ground to the centaur. It was also home to the earth elemental known as Princess Theradras and the spirit of her fallen mate, a keeper of the grove named Zaetar. Legends told that these two beings were the progenitors of the barbaric centaur race.

  Theradras loved the centaur, and she worried that the Horde’s rise to power might eventually drive them to extinction. After years of hostilities with the orcs and their allies, she had acted to save her progeny. She had infused the centaur with her power, driving them to make war and claim new territories outside Desolace.

  Most of the centaur tribes were deeply loyal to Princess Theradras. Yet the Magram had no such loyalty, and thus they were perfect allies for the Horde.

  The Horde helped suppress the other, violent tribes, and then its champions turned their gaze on Maraudon itself. They journeyed into the depths of the burial ground and defeated every creature inside it, including Theradras.

  Their victory ended the spreading corruption in Desolace and erased the violent bloodlust in the centaur. With the Horde’s blessing, Warug and his Magram tribe became the rulers of the united centaur and led them to an age of tranquility.

  Yet no one knew how long they would stay on the path of peace.

  Scarcely had the Horde settled the crisis in Desolace when a new source of darkness emerged. Deep within the southern forests of Feralas, ogre raiding parties were razing settlements and villages, as well as waylaying any travelers unfortunate enough to cross their path. Druids also sensed corruption and decay twisting the wilds.

  After a series of skirmishes throughout Feralas, the Horde learned that the source of both troubles was in Dire Maul, the ruined elven city once known as Eldre’Thalas.

  Almost fifteen years earlier, an ogre leader known as Gordok had led his clan, the Gordunni, to Dire Maul. Not only had they survived the aftermath of the Second War, but they had thrived.

  THE OGRE CLANS ON AZEROTH

  After the defeat of the Horde in the Second War, the ogre clans dispersed in all directions. Some escaped through the Dark Portal to Draenor, but others had no intention of remaining near the orcs and their legendary bloodlust. The ogres who made the difficult journey across the ocean to Kalimdor found plenty of space to inhabit. Those who remained in the Eastern Kingdoms were hunted ruthlessly by Alliance patrols.

  The Gordunni had turned Dire Maul into a gladiatorial arena, which proved to be quite popular among the mercenaries and miscreants of the world.

  Gordok had always been a cruel and ruthless leader, but terrible whispers now plagued his mind, urging him to madness and slaughter. He had commanded his clan to indiscriminately murder anyone they could find.

  The Horde dispatched its forces to scour the Gordunni from Dire Maul. They had expected only to kill Gordok and end his reign of madness, but once they arrived, they discovered two different sources of corruption lurking in the city. The first was the Emerald Nightmare. The dark energy of the Old Gods had slipped past the Emerald Dream’s borders and manifested in the physical world. It was this power that had driven Gordok to insanity, and the Horde’s champions knew that eradicating it was the only way to spare Feralas.

  The second source of corruption shocked those who explored Dire Maul. A secretive group of elves—the Shen’dralar—were living deep in the bones of their old city. Their presence did not raise alarm at first, for they did not seem hostile. Yet when the Horde discovered that the elves had imprisoned a demon named Immol’thar and were feeding on his power, there was no choice but to act.

  The Horde banished Immol’thar to the Twisting Nether. In doing so, they cut off the elves’ source of power and incurred their wrath.

  The Shen’dralar’s leader, Prince Tortheldrin, personally led the counterattack against the Horde, but he could not restore Immol’tha
r or claim vengeance. He fell to the Horde’s blades, and Dire Maul became his tomb.

  The remnants of the elves fled Dire Maul for good. They spent years wandering the wilds, trying to wean themselves off demonic power and feel whole again.

  Far from Dire Maul, uncertainty reigned over Blackrock Mountain. Ragnaros was defeated. He and his elemental minions had been banished back to the Firelands. The adventurers who had triumphed over him returned home to enjoy the spoils of victory, believing that the dangers within Blackrock Mountain had been extinguished.

  Moira Thaurissan knew better. Her people had been freed from the elementals, but now they were exposed to a frightening new foe.

  Ragnaros had controlled only the lower half of Blackrock Mountain. The upper half belonged to Deathwing’s son, Nefarian, and other members of the black dragonflight. Though both sides served the Old Gods, they were not truly allies.

  For more than a decade, a tenuous truce had prevented the minions of fire from warring with the remnants of Deathwing’s brood. Nefarian had kept his presence shrouded, relying on unusual allies to protect his territory.

  The “true Horde,” led by Dal’rend Blackhand, had never accepted Orgrim Doomhammer’s rule after the First War and certainly had no interest in recognizing Thrall as the Horde’s new leader now. Unable to openly make war against the armies of Orgrimmar, Dal’rend’s Horde had bided their time in the stronghold of Blackrock Spire.

  In exchange for the true Horde’s allegiance, Nefarian had promised that the powers of the black dragonflight would fight on their behalf against Thrall and his Horde. It was an empty promise. Nefarian had little interest in trifling in a meaningless civil war. He had much more frightening goals.