From the Ashes Chapter 1: The Pilgrimage
Chaos... Destruction... Oblivion... Not even these words would describe the true terror that has grasped the land. Homes... burned into the dust. Life... all lost in eternal chaos. From the ashes that were once Lordaeron one could see nothing but everlasting flames... flames that can only be seen in the destructive might of war. Everything that the Alliance once held dear has been relinquished. All pride of the Horde has been depleted. The light of hope within the Night Elves has been put out. And yes, even the horror that was the Scourge has been put to rest. How could an entire world be sentenced to such an empty future? Only one race had the power to do such an act.
Could it have been the Burning Legion? No, even the Legion was no match for such a force. Only one clue stands that would lead to an explanation: water. Every battle scarred land has been damped in water. The trees have drooped and withered due to the abundance of water. Once thriving villages have become damp and corroded swampland. Dominant cities have become a metropolis of rivers that were once roads with buildings jutting from its shallow depths. Only one force on Azeroth could have been powerful enough to make it such a drenched wasteland. It all began a month ago, at the fortress city of Aquilin.
The wind blew in from the east, making the meadows below look like a sea of lush green. The Alliance footman guarding from the city walls and turrets looked at the horizon, enjoying the beauty that was bestowed upon them. Young peasants ran to their next destination with a skip in their step. And overlooking it all, from the highest balcony on the highest tower of the palace stood Gardinas, Second King of New Lordaeron. Hailing from the now barren lands of Quel'Thalas, Gardinas was the human apprentice of a very powerful elf sorcerer. His magic is coveted by the Blood Elves and feared by Scourge. It was his leadership skills that led the Alliance against an assault upon the Burning Legion's final portal, destroying it and thus banishing the retched demons from Azeroth forever. In gratitude of his heroics, the Alliance has dubbed Gardinas the Second King of New Lordaeron, successor to the traitorous Arthas.
As the sun set, Gardinas was called to a meeting of the Council. The last time he was called to the Council was when he was given the honor to lead the Alliance to victory against the Burning Legion. But this time it was not news of honor, but of great fear. As he sat upon his throne, the Council members appeared atop the many balconies overlooking the throne.
"Gardinas, Second King of Lordaeron," said one of the Council. "news of great concern has reached our ears and it is of the greatest priority that you hear of it as well."
"You may speak." said Gardinas.
"Long ago we stood here as the Council of the first Lordaeron in the presence of the late Tyranus when a sage came before us, implying that we put aside our hate for the Horde and turn our gaze towards the oncoming Scourge. Of coarse we paid no heed to his warnings and cast him from our sight, a mistake we do not intend to make again. It appears as though fate has brought him to us again. If it were not for him we may not have banned together with the Horde and Night Elves and became the victors at the Battle of Mt. Hyjal. King Gardinas, the Council presents to you Madeiv,
Last of the Guardians."
Then the doors to the throne room slowly opened. From the entrance came an old man in a robe of brown and an old gnarled staff in his right hand. His gaze was on the floor, like he was deep in saddened thought. He walked slowly until he was before the throne, looking up at King Gardinas.
His eyes were as dark as the shadows of night and his beard was a darkened gray.
"I presume you are Madeiv." said Gardinas. "What message do you bring to use? Is news of great concern for Lordaeron?"
"That it is, young king." said Madeiv. "For I bear news hailing the frozen lands of Northrend, from the foot of Icecrown itself. Over a few months ago there was a battle between two great forces: Illidan's Naga, allied with the Blood Elves, and the forces of Arthas himself. Before reaching the entrance to the Frozen Throne of the Lich King, Arthas confronted the corrupt demon hunter. Illidan fell at the hands of Arthas, and Arthas entered the Frozen Throne. He thrust Frostmourne into the Frozen Throne, shattering the Lich King's icy prison. Then Arthas became the Lich King."
"Then the Scourge must be even more powerful!" exclaimed Gardinas. "We must increase our forces!"
"NO! Not yet." said Madeiv. "The Lich King is the least of your problems. The fact that Illidan died is the problem that most concerns me."
"Why so?" asked Gardinas.
"You see, with the death of their master, the Naga have become more destructive and hostile toward those outside their faction." continued Madeiv. "But the forces Illidan commanded were only a small portion of the Naga existing in the dark depths of the sea. To be more precise, there is an entire legion of slumbering Naga in the oceans existing within the Maelstrom!"
"What shall we do? The Maelstrom is far to powerful for us to journey to." said Gardinas.
"Of coarse, it would be suicide." said Madeiv. "But the Naga have a new leader, Prince Kael of the Blood Elves. And by his side is Lady Vadj of the Naga. If they find a way to clear the Maelstrom, they can release the true fury that is the Naga!"
"What is their current position?" asked Gardinas.
"After Illidan's death, Kael's forces have journeyed to the center region of Northrend."
"But only the Great Dragonblight exists in that barren wasteland."
"Indeed. But the reason for this pilgrimage is unknown even to me. Now I bid you farewell,
young king."
At that Madeiv lowered his head. Suddenly a wind blew in from front doors, blinding everyone with its gale. After the wind died out, Gardinas and the Council gazed upon the place that Madeiv once stood and saw only a cluster of violet feathers and a raven's caw in the distance. Gardinas could hear the whispers of the Council and thought about what Madeiv had said. If they were heading to the Great Dragonblight, then Kael would have a run-in with the Lich King's scavengers situated in that area. And because Frost Wyrms are born there (more like 'unborn'), the Naga and Blood Elves would have a huge problem due to the disadvantage given to them on land.
"Council." said Gardinas.
All whispers fell silent.
"Once again fate has given us a gift, a gift that we once so blindly discarded. But this time we will heed the words of the Guardian and make a pilgrimage of our own. We will send our forces to the blasted lands of Northrend and intercept Kael's forces at the Great Dragonblight."
"Should we enlist the aid of the Horde and Night Elves?" asked one Council member.
"No, we shall do this on our own. If Kael's forces fought against the Scourge, their supplies may be dwindling to a sum. They will be weak and if we catch them off guard then it will be an easy fight. Summon as many men from Brill, Andorhal, and Mardenholde Keep and order them to immediately dock at the ports north of Stratholme. We sail tomorrow at evening's twilight."
And so the draft began. Every fighter from Brill, Andorhal, and Mardenholde Keep traveled to Stratholme for supplies and then continued northward to its nearby ports.
"How goes the draft?" asked Gardinas to a Captain.
"Excellently milord!" responded the soldier. "Every warrior from the three destinations came ready and prepared."
And as the soldiers boarded the many ships, Gardinas noticed quite a few dwarven riflemen and mortar teams.
"I do not remember enlisting dwarven aid." Gardinas said the Captain.
"They enlisted themselves." he said.
"Really?" asked Gardinas.
"Yes, milord. Word of your pilgrimage journeyed far and wide and has reached Khaz Modan. Immediately they took flight at twice our speed and finally made it here on time."
"Excellent, we will need all the help we can get, especially if we run into the Scourge in our search."
By the time the sun set in the western sky, all of Gardinas's forces were boarded upon their vessels. Exactly forty-three ships disembarked to Northrend in search of the Great Dragonblight, not realizing that this pilgrimage will be a greater danger than they thought.