Searching.
There is no escape. They say that time heals all wounds; but every soldier knows that on the battlefield, there are injuries that no man, woman, or mortal can ever recover from. Time will not make these better. If it is possible to continue on, they will go through life with their scars, memories, and their once strong determination, now eliminated to nothing. For all the others, the only thing left that awaits them is the black silence that awaits every life form after it enters into being.
Desperate to be sought.
Dates going back to the time before there were maps, dates written in the corners of diaries, times when the text and language is no longer distinguishable from the tongue of today. Even among the oldest of hieroglyphics, only one thing was clear: War.
Searching. Searching, but not finding.
The world of Azeroth was split into two major factions; was, and still is. Although there are never truly only two sides to one story, and there are many factions over the lands; there was, and will always be, the Alliance and the Horde. The time where there was peace between them was non-existent, and the folk tale of agreement was a joke and little but an urban legend.
An end to the war will never be obtained.
For those who have not heard the words of fate speak into your ear yet, and give you the eternal silence, then perhaps you will enjoy listening to this tale instead. For, in a realm not so long and distant from the realm we roam today, there was a person who believed that nothing was impossible. This is not the tale of how we crafted peace, but of how we survived the world of warcraft.
