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March 3rd, 27 ADP
The fate of our land was decided in the heart of Silithus as the Qiraji storm crashed into the Might of Kalimdor. It was a battle unlike I've seen before. High Overlord Saurfang cleaved Qiraji by the dozens while Duke August Foehammer crushed constructs as if they were glass. Magic users of every race and culture called upon their greatest mysticism or blessing for the sake of our world.
The sky would grow dead long before the Qiraji force but against the Scarab Wall they were finally defeated. Pushed back into their ruins, we gathered before the gate.
We've destroyed their body but the heart and mind remain. The Old God C'Thun and the Qiraji Emperors will crushed beneath the iron heel of the Horde.
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February 26th, 27 ADP
The war effort is complete. We now prepare for war.
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February 7th, 27 ADP
Drums roared through Sen'jin Village today as Vol'jin himself declared that I had become an Exalted Champion of the Darkspear Tribe. This celebration marked the forth and final Horde faction to bestow this title upon me, and thus train me to ride their racial mount.
After the bulk of the event had finished (meaning everyone but the trolls were done dancing and smoking), I proceeded to the raptor stable. I had been training my raptor equitation for the last two weeks and all that was left was the formalities. Xar'Ti, the Darkspear Raptor Trainer, greeted me and declared my training complete. I lifted the whistle attached to a chain around my neck and pressed it to my lips, unleashing a sharp screech, calling forth my black war raptor from a nearby nest. Its mouth snapped as eagerly as the two sickle-like claws on its feet, as would be expected from a mount trained and bred for war and bloodlust. The raptor kept its restlessness in check, though, for it knew that its long-time owner had now fully become its master as well. "Have you decided on a name, mon?", Xar'Ti asked. One would never name a beast that was not yet fulled tamed, but the time had come once more for one of my steeds. "Yuutee Saakes", I replied, to which Xar'Ti grinned, understanding its meaning in his native troll tongue. "Good name that be", he grinned, "Good name indeed!".
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January 27th, 27 ADP
Gorgrirn clawed at the dirt-matted rocks forming a road below his feet. Orgrimmar was bustling with wagons on this particular day, and the mess they were dragging in from Durotar and the Barrens was evident against the normally bland surfaces of the dry Orgrimmar valley floors. Gorgrirn snorted once more as a wagon rolled by leaving a cloud of dust near his face. He was growing aggravated, for he had been standing idle for most of the hot day as his brother-in-war (for no proud and brutal worg would submit to a master) was embroiled in the politics of the war effort. Kyan was displeased, Gorgrirn knew, for the trade activity of the day stood out as a rarity against the slow recent weeks. By his own words, the war effort as a whole had been pathetic, carried on the backs by but a few clans.
The maw of the hulking worg salvated at that thought, though, his only mental reprive for what he knew would be a long day stuck in the city. Gorgrirn knew that when the High Warlord was angry, he'd seek an outlet in which to unleash the anger. And if there was one thing that Gorgrirn enjoyed more than anything, it was playing with Night Elf children.
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January 13th, 27 ADP
As part of my reward for contributions to the Ahn'Qiraj war effort, the Bloodhoof tauren decided that I was ready to begin my training of kodo riding. It has been a few days now and I've got the hang of it. They are definitely quite the different beast than a wolf. They hug the ground much more heavily, obviously, but even on mountainous terrain which is suprising for a beast of the steppes. They're such a powerful animal as well. My black war kodo, covered in plate mail, felt like a veritable ram, so because of this I decided to name my kodo Pawene Ich, the Taurahe word for battle ram.
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January 11th, 27 ADP
Our tired army organized and then headed to Moonglade. Because of the brutal war we had been waging this entire week, we took precautions. Most Horde and Alliance guilds had rallied behind us, but we knew the Alliance guild we had raced against in Silithus still felt vengeful, so we took precautions.
We stationed a strike team in Darkshore and once our allies had arrived, they ambushed the Auberdine Flight Master and lured her away. Any enemy Alliance would not be finding a quick flight to Moonglade upon getting off the Menethil boat. Atleast not for most of the battle. As this commenced, our Far Seer declared that enemy Alliance had put out a "Call To War" in their lands. We were confident that very few would answer it but we made haste nonetheless. Our Hero spoke with Remulos once more and let him know that we were ready. Eranikus, the Tyrant of the Dream, was once summoned into our world.
This time we would not be overwhelmed though. The size of our army was in check. The Shades were still fierce though and many grew in massive size. But unlike last time, we persisted, and Keeper Remulos was kept strong and healthy. Eranikus, upon seeing the destruction of his Shades, took matters into his own hands. He descended from the sky and began his assault, with both claw, maw, and barrage of shadowy magic. He could not withstand our attacks though, nor could he overwhelm our healing on Keeper Remulos.
As the corrupted wyrm slowly fell, the Priestess of the Moon Tyrande arrived. "Tend to the injuries of the wounded, sisters", she request of her caravan. She then turned her attention to the Tyrant of the Dream. "Seek absolution, Eranikus. All will be forgiven..." she pleaded to the fallen wyrm, "Elune will always love you".
"Why? Why did this happen to me?", Eranikus demanded, "Where were you Tyrande? Where were you Elune when I fell from grace?". The dragon pressed on but his arrogant willpower slowly shattered, the corruption seeping from his spirit. With his body near death, he gave into Elune once more. "I... I feel... I feel the touch of Elune upon be being once more... She smiles upon me... Yes... I...", he weeped. Then his redeption echoed across the world, "Eranikus, Tyrant of the Dream, is wholly consumed by the light of Elune. Tranquility sets in over the Moonglade". Eranikus had been redeemed.
Tyrande fell to one knee, exhausted from the battle. She lift her head though and the normally stoic Priestess could not contain her smile. A familar face stood before her, that of a Night Elf. It was Eranikus. "For so long, I was lost... The Nightmare's corruption had consumed me... And now, you... all of you... you have saved me. Released me from its grasp", he thanked us. "But... Malfurion, Cenarius, Ysera... they still fight. They need me. I will return to the Dream at once". Eranikus bowed his face in shame as he came before Tyrande. "My lady, I am unworth of your prayer. Truly, you are an angel of the light. Please, assist me in returning to the barrow den so that I may return to the Dream. I, like Malfurion, also have a love awaiting for me... I must return to her... to protect her...".
Eranikus then turned to face us and our Champion. "And Heroes... I hold what you seeek. May it once more see the evil dissolved. Remulos, see to it that our champion receives the shard of the Green Flight"
And with that, Eranikus was gone, back to the Emerald Dream to fight at the side of Yseris, Cenarius, and Malfurion. Keeper Remulos presented our Champion with the third and final Shard. We began our trek south-- back to Anachronos-- where our journey had began.
Anachronos welcomed our Hero Cyrk. He was impressed, and he was hopeful for the future. "The Old God C'Thun will tremble", he grinned. He reminded us that we were not to open the Gate until our War Effort was complete and our armies were in Silithus, but he trusted our Hero. He was ready.
The Scepter, split into Shards for 10,000 years, was complete once more.
The Scepter of the Shifting Sands was ours.
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January 11th, 27 ADP
Our Hero Cyrk returned to Nerrain Soothsayer with the final Draconic page while our army organized in Azshara. Nerrain compiled his Draconic book and gave Cyrk the good and bad news. The good being that he was ninety-nine percent sure he could create our Arcanite Bouy; the bad news that the success would depend on our ability to provide him with jewels and ores of mass value. Twenty bars of Arcanite, ten of Elementium I think, and a score of jewels. Our Hero handed the materials and the Arcanite Bouy was crafted.
We summoned Cyrk to Azshara and within minutes, the Arcanite Bouy was placed. "A being of great power has awoken" echoed across Azeroth, with us treading water seemingly helpless at the center of it. Within seconds we saw this being, a massive behemoth of a shark that stretched the length of many kodos. The beast must of been mesmerized by the bouy for he was unaggresive to us until he reached it.
We quickly attacked him and commenced a fierce battle. Though bearing a strong maw, he was a simple creature and soon slain. Once again the world felt an echo, this time heralding that the wrath of Neptulon the Water Elemental Lord had been subdued. Azurgoes' Shard was ours.
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January 9th, 27 ADP
We are still without any of the three Shards. However, we've made significant progress. For Nerrain Soothfancy, we've collected many items. His Scrying Goggles that his disgruntled friend stole had been lost in the Molten Core. The mighty Lord Lakmaeran provided enough meat for his desire for a "five hundred pound chicken". Most of the missing Draconic pages have been collected as well, some from as far as the Stormwind Library.
On the front of the Green Shard, our quest led us to a Keeper of the Grove known as Remulos. In short, we needed a way to summon Eranikus, the keeper of the Green Shard, back into Azeroth from the Emerald Dream. To do this though we required Emerald fragments from the four Emerald Portals across the world. This was a dangerous feat but hundreds of dead wyrmkin and one nasty satyr later, we had collected them. Thankfully it never lasted any longer, I'm not particulary fond of the perverted wyrmkin. One still wonders how these former-humanoids evolved into their current state. Or perhaps it's better not to wonder...
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January 7th, 27 ADP
It all started off so simple, I think to myself as we greet Azurgoes of Eldre'thalas, over one year ago in The Barrens we came across some little pests, bugs to squich between our toes. Now we're off to save the world from them and here we are speaking with the Spirit of a great blue wyrm.
Azurgoes just wants to be left alone and study the ancient relics of Eldre'thalas and became fed up with his shard. So he did what any mighty wyrm would do. He gave it do a minnow! Yes, a tiny baby fish. Not only that but he enchanted this special minnow with powers, which he expects many fishermen ended up on the cruel end of. So we ask how we're supposed to find this minnow, and he answers with what should of been obvious... Build an arcanite bouy of course to attract the minnow, which just may happen to incur the wrath of the elemental water lord as well. We ask if we should do this naked on a leap-year and Azurgoes isn't impressed by our sarcasm.
So Azurgoes sends us out on a quest to build this arcanite bouy, which we latter find turns into a trend. It seems that every side-quest turns into yet another side-quest, and suprisingly, one just as entertaining as the last. We're directed to Nerrain Soothfancy, the warlock that's gained recent fame for his Ashbringer dialouge, with a book from Azurgoes that will help him craft this arcanite bouy. This eccentric little midget sounds pleased to help us but guess what, he can't read dragon! So after a bit more of his eccentric badgering, he describes the three items we need: a book of his that he lost on island far out to sea, a scying glass from a human that may be at the Silvermane Wall or in Outland, and lastly, once again something that should of been obvious - a five hundred pound chicken. Yes, oversized fowl is going to help save the world.
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January 5th, 27 ADP
"Retreat, retreat", our leader yelled as the Alliance army crested the horizon. After slaughtering the last force and remaining on defense for some time, we had resumed our offensive strategy against the Silithuds and spread out to the various hives across Silithus. We had left a few groups on the surface and assigned scouts, but nothing to deal with a force of this magnitude. Those very scouts were the reason we were afforded time to organize against this collective enemy though.
So when the full force of humans and elves arrived at Hive'Regal, we were ready to adapt as neccesary. We knew reiforcements were already on the way from across the desert but they wouldn't arrive for some time. Too long for us to survive in open combat against a force that doubled our size. So we retreated into the hive tunnel and dug into the entrance bottleneck, drawing the foolish Alliance down to us. In such tight quarters, we'd turn their overwhelming size into a flaw.
Communicating magically with our reinforcments, our Far Seer relayed this movements to us as we used magic to defend the bottlneck and keep the enemy at bay. I hid in an alcove off to the side, a different direction than that of our force, so that if it did indeed come to battle in this tight tunnel, I could smash into their side as they were drawn down main path. It never came to that, though. "They've hit their flank!", our Far Seer yelled. "Engage!" our leader roared.
We charged out of the hive tunnel and into the new flank of the Alliance force. They had retreated off the tunnel ramp and turned westward to face our reinforcements, turning their previous front into an explosed belly. At such a blatant weakness, we never hestitated a moment. We dove in sword and spear first.
It would seem like many minutes before the chaos would settle but when it did, one thing was obvious, the strategy had worked flawlessly. Not a human or elf, gnome or dwarf, was left alive.
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January 3rd, 27 ADP
A new year and a new threat.
I've arrived back in Orgrimmar after many days of slaughter. From Goldshire to Thelsamar to Gnomeregan, hundreds of Alliance soldiers are dead and over one hundred civilians. I sought to continue my bloody crusade but on the fifth night, a worg outrider approached my camp deep in the mountains of Dun Morogh. Thrall requested my presence back in Orgrimmar, the outrider declared, for a greater threat stirred and a new day was coming that would require a welcoming hand, not a cleaving axe, to greet our Alliance neighbors. Apparently they had taken exception to the killings and requested a sense of peace, atleast in our respective homelands, during this delicate time.
So at Thrall's request I returned to warior-city of Orgrimmar to be greeted by the stirring of battle. It was pleasing to see Orgrimmar so abuzz with life once more. Wagons decked with supples lined the streets as peons worked busily packing and loads them. Caravans filtered in through the front gates empty passing through the city, slowly, collecting goods, settling into the Valley of Spirits - clearly the heart of this new operations. Once full they filed out the western gate and prepared for the long journey south to Silithus. Craftsmen from all over the Horde territory were filling the streets with their packs and wagons of goods and materials, all for the war effort. The gears of the orcish war machine clearly had begunt to churn once again.
Soon after I met with Thrall and his council and he went into greater detail about what I had already heard. A new threat stirred far to the south, one which could grow more dangerous than even the Scourge or the Alliance, and one that would require a make-shift alliance with the latter. The dwarven Ambassador, Stronghammer, once again voiced his concerns about the recent village raids and request a ceasefire in our homelands, a concern which Thrall also echoed, of which I saw the wisdom within. I will obey my Warchief. This so-called War of the Shifting Sands will be first and fore-most in my mind. I will not seek out murderous carnage for now. But... If this new road happens to cross paths with an human village here and a dwarven caravan there... A little spilled blood wouldn't hurt. It's obvious the Alliance needs us as much as we need them and it would do them good to be kept in check and reminded that we haven't forgotten their past actions.
So then it begins, the War of the Shifting Sands, heralded by race for resources. A new threat stirs and the war machine has turned into action once more. Orgrimmar is vieled in a sense of urgency and lust, you can see it in the grinning faces of orcs everywhere. We sit once again on the edge of war and I couldn't be more pleased.
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Journal Continued.