Atlantean Entertainment Presents



By Aves Daniel Grate

The Story of the Age of Chaos

Based on the game by Blizzard Entertainment



Pictures © 1998 by Blizzard Ent.

Disclaimer: This is a non-profitable endeavor. Most of
the characters are copyright 1998 by Blizzard
Entertainment. Also, since this is a narrative of the events from Warcraft:
Orcs and Humans, the storyline is also copyright by Blizzard. Also, the
Introduction is taken right from the game, so that is copyright by Blizzard
too. Regarding the Introduction, it does not begin the story, it merely
gives you the idea of what it's about. What I mean is, it states that the
Orcs came through the portal, but the story begins far before they actually
came through.

Author's Note:

I have carefully analysed the story of Warcraft: Orcs and Humans. Having
been fascinated with the creative genius of the story, I have decided to
express the story as I saw it. I have added characters, of course, and theorized
some, but all in all it is the story of Warcraft. Please direct comments
to jenjes@simcoe.igs.net 


It Begins . . .

In the Age of Chaos, two batches battled for
dominance.

The kingdom of Azeroth was a prosperous one,


the humans who dwelled there turned the land into a penthouse. 

The Knights of Stormwind and the Clerics of Northshire Abbey

roamed far and wide, serving the people with honour and justice. 

The well trained armies of the kingdom maintained

a lasting peace for many generations.

Then came the Orcish Hordes . . .

No one knew where these creatures came from,


and none were prepared for the terror that they spawned.

There warriors wielded ax and spear with deadly proficiency,

while others rode on darkwolves, as black than a moonless night. 

Unimagined were the destructive powers of their evil magiks, 

derived from the fires of the underworld.

Armed with an ingenious arsenal of weapons
and powerful magiks,

these two forces collide in a contest of cunning,

intellect, and brute strength,

with the victor claiming dominance over the whole of Azeroth.

Welcome to the world of

Warcraft.





Act I: Medivh



The Orcish Hordes watched the slain bodies of the Draenei
decompose before them. Armed with dark arcane magiks provided by their warlocks,
the Orcish hordes had slaughtered them all. The fallow fields of the Draenei
were soaked with their blood. Ruins of their buildings littered the ground.
The crunch beneath the feet of the horde was the satisfying sound of the
skeletal remains of the weak race of the Draeni. They roasted their young
on fired pits and consumed them in a great feast to celebrate the defeat
of their weak race. They were weak, and the weak fell under the ax of the
Orcish hordes. Power and fresh meat were the only thing that kept the Orcish
hordes slaughtering those different from them. 

It had always been that way with the Orcs. Their brutal, cruel, and carnage
way were always manipulated by the ones in power. The ones like Gul'dan.

Gul'dan watched with satisfaction as the Draenei villages burned to the
ground. This was their destiny, their way. The only destiny for the horde
was that of domination. And they had dominated every last, dark corner of
their red, dying world. One by one their "great" enemies had fallen,
their fields lay unattended to, their resistance had been no match for the
chaotic force of the horde.

But Gul'dan was smarter than to guess that this would satisfy the Orcish
hunger for power. He knew that once the meat was gone and their enemies
destroyed, their lust for battle would force them to turn on each other;
the Orcs would destroy themselves. 

A leaderless rabble, that was all they were, and Gul'dan intended to fix
that.

"Magnificent," Garona, his extremely young interpreter, walked
up behind him. Garona was half Draenei. Her combined Draenei agility and
superior Orcish strength made her the best assassin Orcish lineage could
offer. But with all enemies destroyed, assassins were not needed.

Gul'dan glanced at her and then turned back to the scene of carnage before
him, "For now, my dear. But soon that will change." 

Garona had a quizzical look on her face momentarily, "You are wanted
in the Shadow Council, Gul'dan. The Necrolytes and Warlocks are holding
council."

Gul'dan stepped down from the precipice overshadowing the destroyed lands
of the Draenei.

Little did Gul'dan, or any of the Warlocks know, that miles
and miles across the astral plain, there was a rich, luscious land. The
land of Azeroth. 

King Wrynn III clanged his cup to that of Alonsus Faol. Alonsus smiled at
his king, "The feast of the first day of Summer has always been a merry
one, Milord. But I must admit, this is the best celebration that I have
ever attended."

King Wrynn laughed aloud, "Why thank you, dear Faol. But thanks to
you and your Clerics for the magnificent show of magics. Truly spectacular,
don't you agree, My dear lady?"

Lady Varia, the King's lovely wife, smiled with her luscious, rose lips,
"Yes. Alonsus, you have truly outdone yourself this time, and for one
so young! Faol, when Abbot Yurkskry goes to his well-earned rest, I can
easily see you taking up the title of Abbot of Northshire Abbey."

The teenage Cleric tried to hide his embarrassment, "Please, Milady,
you are too kind."

Young Anduin Lothar walked up to the three, he was just entering his Age
of Ascension that year. He bowed to them and then stated, "Milord Wrynn,
there is a woman who arrived at the gates just now. She requests to stay
the night. She looks like a traveler, Milord. My father wishes to know if
he should allow her in." 

Wrynn smiled at the uncomfortable salute the young knight-to-be had constructed,
"At ease, young Sir. Yes, Anduin, allow the woman in. All are welcome
to our feast. Wish your father well from me."

Anduin nodded, "Yes sir, I will."

The woman rode in on a pure white steed. She dismounted
gracefully and bowed to King Wrynn. Anduin and his father, Hunrin Lothar,
hurried in after her.

"Milord," she said, her voice firm, yet gentle, "I have nothing
to offer you, but I request sanctuary from the night." 

"You have come at an opportune time, stranger," said Wrynn, "today
is the feast of summer. Please join in the festivities."

She bowed again, "Of course, and thank you, King Wrynn. Your reputation
of generosity could not be more accurate."

"I'll arrange quarters for her, Sire," Nielas, the court conjurer,
volunteered.

"Of course."

It was early December when the Keeper of Secrets was born.
He was named Medivh, which means Keeper of Secrets in the Elven tongue.


The wandering woman, who had been come to be known as Traveler, lay in bed,
cradling her child in her arms. Nielas watched over her. When he had started
his relationship with her, he had never imagined it coming that far. Traveler
motioned with her hand for Nielas to come to her. He sat down on the bed.

"Hold your son, Nielas," she said, giving him to the Conjurer.

He was apprehensive at first, but then he took him in his arms and rocked
him back and forth, "Medivh, Keeper of Secrets. He has a magnificent
future ahead of him, I can see it in his eyes."

Traveler smiled.

The woman slung her bag across her back. She moved Nielas's
hair away from his forehead and kissed him lightly, "Look after our
son well, Nielas the Conjurer."

Then she turned to her son, "And you, use your secrets for the better
of this world, my child Medivh."

She walked out of the room, mounted her steed, and disappeared into the
dark night.

Nielas walked into the throne room, holding his child in
his arms. 

King Wrynn III creased his brow, "Where is the Traveler?" 

"She is gone, Milord," said Nielas, "she disappeared last
night while I was sleeping."

King Wrynn thought momentarily, "The baby will be taken into the court
as a ward of the kingdom."

564

Five years later, there was great celebration in the kingdom of Azeroth.
The line of King Wrynn would not die with him. Lady Varia had given birth,
to Prince Llane.

The festivities were astronomical, the food was as luscious as never before,
and all Azerothians were making merry and having a good time. 

Medivh had to stand on tiptoe to peer over the edge of Llane's crib. Nielas
lifted the small boy up so he could get a better look. Medivh giggled with
delight at the sight of the infant, "Will the baby be king one day,
Daddy?"

"Yes he will, son," Nielas answered, "And when he is king
you will be the court conjurer."

Medivh giggled again.

Lady Varia was seated beside Wrynn, wrapped in a warm blanket. She peered
sleepily to her husband, "I hope that Medivh and Llane will became
good friends, my husband."

Wrynn took her hand in his, "As do I, my lovely queen." He kissed
her ring lightly.

Varia smiled and fell asleep with exhaustion.

Wrynn kissed her hand again and turned back to the festivities.

571

Nielas was one of the happiest men that could have lived on that fateful
eve. Tipping glasses with his friends of the kingdom, the conjurer laughed
and talked.

Medivh was happy as well, and for sufficient reason. It was the night before
his twelfth birthday, and thus his Age of Ascension. He smiled proudly as
he sat beside his father.

Nielas smiled and ruffled up his son's hair. Alonsus Faol sipped wine from
his glass, "So I hear you and Prince Llane are good friends, is that
right, Medivh?"

"Yes, sir," Medivh said politely, "I'll be honoured to serve
as his Conjurer when he is King."

Alonsus Faol smiled, "And by then I'll be the aged Abbot of Northshire
Abbey!"

Anduin Lothar, who had taken up the Brotherhood of the Horse when his father
had fallen, smiled at the young sorcerer, "And a fine conjurer you'll
be, Medivh." The knight yawned, "Hmm, looks like I should be getting
some sleep if I intend to attend the celebrations tomorrow. I'll see you
at dawn, my friends." Lothar slung his scabbard across his back and
made his way out of the banquet hall of Stormwind Keep.

Nielas put his hand on Medivh's shoulder, "You should be getting your
sleep soon as well, my son."

Medivh immediately declined, "Oh, father, can't I stay up just a bit
longer, please?"

Nielas shook his head, "I'll have none of that. Now you get up to bed
or you'll be too tired for your celebration tomorrow." 

Medivh turned to the Cleric, "How come he makes everything make sense?"

Alonsus shrugged, "That's what fathers do, my boy. See you tomorrow,
Medivh!"

Medivh waved as his father guided him to his room.

"And will all the other conjurers be there, father?"
Medivh asked anxiously.

Nielas put Medivh's blankets up to his chin, "Yes, Medivh. All the
conjurers, all the Clerics, all the knights. Everyone! They all want to
see their new conjurer."

Medivh thought seriously for a moment, "I'd better get to sleep so
as not to disappoint them."

Nielas adopted a serious face as well, "Good thinking, my boy. Now,
sweet dreams."

But little did either know that his dreams would be less than pleasant.

Medivh was dreaming, but he wasn't in his dream.
It was as if he was merely observing someone else's dream. It was not a
nice dream.

Dark, sinister creatures were being chased by snaky, leviathan figures.
Chasms of unending sorrow being filled with rivers of spilled blood. Such
carnage he had never imagined possible. He had never seen such vicious images
in his young life. Groups of starving people running from armies of unfeeling
warriors of darkness. He watched these people fall to the ground, and he
didn't need to confirm their deaths. Medivh tried to run from these images,
but they were part of him now. He could not go anywhere unless they went
with him.

What were these things? What did they mean? He couldn't know. He didn't
want to know. All he thought about was escaping from them. That was his
priority. But how? The creatures were turning on him. They were chasing
him now. He was going to be subdued any minute now.

"What are you?" Medivh heard himself scream, "Leave me alone!"

Medivh awoke with cold beads of sweat dripping down his
face onto his chest. He could still see the carnage, the pain, the hurt.
That was more than a dream.

Medivh threw the covers from his boiled body. "Father," he thought,
"Yes, father will help me, he will know what this is about, he will
help me."

The young sorcerer staggered from his bed, his hair matted to his head,
"Father," he muttered to himself, and made his way out the door.


The full moon illuminated the halls of the castle. Medivh could see the
wooden door to his father's bedchamber as he stepped out into the hall.


"Almost there."

Medivh glanced hesitantly down the hall both ways, perhaps the creatures
had escaped from his dreams and were stalking him right now! Perhaps they
were waiting for him in his father's room! It was a trap. Yes! They were
trying to lure him to his father's room. That's why they gave him the dream.
Yes, it made perfect sense now. But what if they were going to hurt his
father? He must save him!

Medivh grasped onto the wall to gain balance. He slowly tiptoed down the
carpeted halls. He looked out the lit up window and onto the courtyard,
just to make sure that they weren't blocking off his exit should he fail
to rescue his father. 

He was there! He'd show them that they couldn't hurt his father, not with
him around. He opened the door slowly. It creaked as it opened. Medivh peered
inside.

He sighed. They weren't there, his father was safe.

Nielas sat up, "Medivh?" he smiled, "You're excited too much
to sleep?"

Medivh stuttered, "They're after me, father!"

The Conjurer frowned, and noticed that his son was sweating, "Do you
have a fever, my son?"

The young one shook his head, "I don't know."

Nielas got up and moved towards his son, "It's all right, my son. You'll
be fine." He reached out to feel his brow. 

Medivh closed his eyes. Then he opened them again. Nielas stared in horror
as his son's eyes ignited in a burst of flame. Nielas shouted for help and
Medivh screamed out loud. Green rays of power issued from the child's mouth.
His body was alight with magical powers. His powers backlashed out at his
father, who fell back into his bed, and watched in horror as his son screamed
in unbridled pain.

The Clerics at Northshire Abbey had felt the immense backlash
as well. On steed and carriage, the clerics arrived at the castle, led by
Alonsus Faol.

Alonsus was greeted by Nielas's servant, Meijila. She took his hand in a
tight grip, "Upstairs! In the master's bedchamber! Medivh is having
some kind of magical trauma. You must help him! He sounds like he's died
a thousand times!"

Meijila fainted then. Alonsus set her on a chair and took his team, "Quickly,
we must help the boy!"

Alonsus ran up the stairs. To his terror, magical energies filled the halls
in destruction and horror. The Cleric merely pushed them aside with his
staff and ran to his friend's side.

Medivh was aloft, a ball of green light pulsing from him like fireworks.
Nielas lay on the bed, defending his face with his arm from the powerful
magiks being thrown around the room.

"This is like nothing I've ever seen before!" cried Alonsus. He
turned to one if his Clerics, "Get a runner, fetch as many Clerics
at Northshire Abbey as you can. We must save this child!"

Over one hundred Clerics had formed a circle around the
levitated child, trying to contain him. He screamed as unimaginable magiks
and power poured from him as if he was a fountain. Medivh himself nearly
fainted from the pain he experienced from the powers being channeled through
him, but then the pain itself would reawaken him.

Nielas ventured towards the centre of the circle.

Alonsus saw the conjurer, "Nielas! Don't!"

"He is my son," he merely replied. Nielas crept forward towards
him, and then touched his son.

When the light dimmed and the mists dispersed, a sad sight
met the eye of the Clerics. Nielas's dead body, wounded beyond the repair
of magic, lay hugging his child, who was resting peacefully in a deep sleep.
The first peace the child had experienced for seventeen days and nights.
Even though his heart was barely beating, his lungs barely breathing, he
was at peace. And that was all that mattered.

Hyline, one of Alonsus's most trusted Clerics, conversed
with Anduin Lothar outside the room in which King Wrynn and Alonsus were
speaking of the matter of Meivh.

"This isn't good," Hyline commented, "Something was wrong
with that boy. Even with a conjurer for a father, it still doesn't make
any sense. He was more powerful than any other conjurer I've ever seen.
To tell you the truth, I thought he was going to kill us all eventually."

Lothar nodded, "Do you know what Alonsus wants to do with Medivh?"

Hyline shrugged, "He'll probably look into taking care of the child,
he and Nielas were good friends. I'm not sure what he wants to do, he never
does make his intentions too clear." 

"Will Medivh be all right?"

Hyline and Lothar turned at the small voice from the doorway. The seven-year
old Prince Llane stood there nervously.

"Llane?" the cleric beckoned for him with her hands, "What
are you doing up, it's very late, you know."

Llane nodded, seating himself on her lap, "I know. But I couldn't sleep.
Mommy's sleeping, and Daddy's busy. Will Medivh be all right? Mommy said
that he's been sick."

Hyline and Lothar exchanged glances, "We're not sure, Llane,"
said Lothar, "Medivh is very sick. He's sleeping right now. But his
Daddy died and we're trying to get him someone to look after him."

"I hope that he's okay," the young prince stated, "He said
that we would play together when he turned twelve, and then when I turned
twelve he'd be with me then too. He will be, won't he?"

Hyline stuttered. Lothar put up his hand to silence her, "We don't
know, Llane. But whatever happens, remember that it's not Medivh's fault."

Llane nodded and then though a moment. He then turned his small face and
looked Lothar straight into his eyes, "Will he die like his Daddy?"

"We don't know, honey," said Hyline, "sometimes when people
get sick, clerics can help them get better. But sometimes they're too sick
to get better. But we're still not sure how sick Medivh is."

"He won't die," Llane smiled, "not with Alonsus looking after
him. Once when I was sick, he helped me get better." 

"Really?" asked Hyline, acting amazed, "You know what? How
about I get you back into bed while you tell me about it?"

Llane nodded. Lothar lifted him off and set him on the ground. Hyline look
his small hand and together they walked out with Llane saying, "First,
I had a tummyache. But then my head started getting hot and Mommy said I
had a freezer. Yep. And then I. . ."

Lothar smiled as his small voice faded away into the halls of Stormwind
Keep.

The wooden doors of the council room opened and Alonsus and Wrynn emerged.
Lothar stood up, "What will be done with the child, Milord?" he
asked.

Faol and Wrynn exchanged glanced, "For the benefit of both child and
community," said Alonsus, "we have decided that the child be transported
to Northshire Abbey, where my clerics can tend to him personally."

Lothar nodded, "And what of the arcane powers witnessed here?"


"We're still not sure where it all came from," said Alonsus, "but
it appears that it has been locked deep within him since birth. He merely
tapped into it that night a few weeks ago."

"Will he die?" asked Lothar.

"It doesn't seem that way," said Alonsus, "but we can't be
sure."

Lothar nodded and went with Alonsus to the bedchamber where Medivh was sleeping.

577

Llane had grown. Now he was celebrating his Age of Ascension. 

The young prince was seated on a stool in the banquet hall. Hyline slapped
his back heartily and sat down on a stool beside him, sipping ale from a
wooden mug, "So, how's the new prince?" 

Llane shrugged, "Nervous."

Hyline smiled and took a good swig from her mug, "Afraid you'll goof
up or something?" 

He turned to her, "Exactly that."

The Cleric swiveled her stool and gulped at her ale again, "Well, lucky
for you," she said, licking her lips, "you don't have to be king
for a while yet. Relax! Enjoy the party, 'cuz it won't go on forever."
She got up and patted his shoulder, "See you on the dance floor."

The Cleric walked onto the main floor and began to dance to the mandolin
with Alonsus. Llane was soon joined by Sir Lothar. Lothar sat on the other
side of him, "Hello, Llane."

"Hi Anduin," said Llane, fiddling with his tunic.

Lothar glanced down at Llane's fidgety hands and then back up at the boy's
face, "Nervous?"

Llane sighed, "Totally, Sir."

Lothar patted his back, "That's completely normal, Llane. A word of
advice: stop worrying. If you worry you'll work yourself into a nervous
breakdown! Relax, and enjoy the party . . ." 

"'Cuz it won't last forever?" asked Llane.

Lothar frowned, "No, actually. I was going to say, but don't eat too
much or you'll be full for the feast, but whatever you like better."

Llane smiled, "Thanks for the advice."

"Anytime, young Sire," said Lothar, getting up off the stool.

Llane got up and decided to join his own party.

The banquet hall at Stormwind Keep was no longer so full
as it had been during the festivities. Merely King Wrynn, his family, and
their close friends were attending. This was the feast Lothar spoke of.

Llane sat to the right of his father, across from his mother, Varia. Seated
beside him was Lothar, and then Hyline. Beside Varia was Alonsus Faol, and
then Tyris Trollbane, Lord of the Nation of Stromgarde who was visiting
from his northern nation.

Wrynn stood up and raised his chalice, "I'd like to propose a toast."

All present took their cups and rose to their feet. Wrynn continued, "To
my son, Prince Llane, may he have a prosperous reign over Azeroth when I
go to my rest. To the lasting peace of Azeroth!" 

"To peace!" the company chimed in, in slight unison. 

Varia sat back down, "Mmm, one of Druni's chickens? They're always
tasty."

"Brr. . ." Alonsus shivered, "Is there a draft coming in
here?"

Hyline nodded, "Yeah, I thought it was a bit cold. Does anyone mind
if I close the shutters?" she got up and closed the large window on
one side of the hall, and then proceeded to do the same on the other side.
She seated herself again, "Okay," she picked up her knife and
fork.

Suddenly the shutters blew open with a bang and a sharp chill ran through
the room, snuffing each candle. The guards at the door made to shut the
windows, when suddenly the doors themselves blew open and slammed into the
wall.

The winds died immediately. Complete darkness, save for the faint light
of the crescent moon, flooded the room.

There was a man in the doorway, a shadowy figure. No one could see him clearly
at all. Then each candle erupted into a small burst of blue flame, and the
cloaked, bearded visage of the man was fully revealed. 

At first only some recognized him, but then, when each looked deep into
his eyes, they saw that it was no stranger. It was Medivh-the Keeper of
Secrets. Of course Tyris had no idea who he was but that really didn't matter
that much.

"Medivh," the word escaped Wrynn's lips, verifying the suspicions
of the others in the room.

The guards made their way over to him, with a wave of his hand they stopped
in their places. 

"Yes, your majesty," said Medivh, "My years of sleep have
ended, thanks to the kindness of the Clerics at Northshire Abbey. Their
unending tending to me had helped me to control this incredible power which
I possess. When me body and spirit came to one, I awakened myself. And I
set out with all speed to repay those of the kingdom of Azeroth for their
kindness. I have a gift for you, Prince Llane." The sorcerer reached
into his flowing cloak.

The hourglass the wizard produced was beautiful. Carved from the deepest
of the deepest obsidian, and with silken white sands sifting through it.
He set it down in front of Llane.

The young prince eyes it closely. Although the sand did appear to be going
from top to bottom, the lower half's sand never grew, nor did the upper
half's ever empty.

"These sands," the sorcerer pointed to the hourglass, "is
the people of Azeroth. And as long as these sands are in the top half, your
reign, King Wrynn, will never fail." 

The sorcerer departed the room.

Suddenly the candles ignited into their normal, orange flame. The guards
were at the door again, and no wind was through the room at all. But it
had been no dream. The hourglass stood like a sentinel in the midst of the
food-laden table, its sands sifting in a never-ending journey from top to
bottom.

Back on Draenor, things were going well for Gul'dan the
Warlock. Under years of tutelage from Kil'jaeden the Daemon, he had grown
to be the most powerful of his kind. Then he had formed the school of Necromancy,
and taught his students the forbidden magiks of death, darkness and unholy
religion. With his Necrolytes, he had formed the Shadow Council, which pacified
the vicious nature of the horde with false promises of reaching worlds beyond
Draenor and conquering them. But would this keep the horde in respite for
long? Probably not. He and his clan of Stormreavers were the only to ignore
the fascinations with Horde power. They couldn't stop them forever.

Gul'dan contemplated this matter in his stronghold late one night. Trickery
was a risky game, he was trying to run a leaderless rabble of carnage-craving
warriors. It wouldn't work forever, that he could be sure of. The Orcs were
stupid, easily susceptible, but even the low intelligence would begin to
rouse suspicions of the broken promises. What could be done . . . 

Suddenly a scream tore through the warlock's meditations. It was so loud
that it could have been right beside him. But it was not. He peered out
the window at the Warlock Tower which resembled a giant Draenei skull. Candles
flickered from the windows, which were the eyes of the massive abomination.
The screams had come from there.

The door to his study blew open and Garona rushed in, "Milord, the
Warlocks! Come quickly!" she ran from the doorway. Gul'dan grabbed
his cloak and hurried after her. 

Gul'dan looked unto the frozen forms of many of his Warlocks.
Others were tending to their aching heads. The ones locked in a trance had
gnarled, terrified faces.

The Warlock turned to one of his apprentices, "What happened?"
he demanded.

The Warlock looked to his tutor, "Milord," he said, nursing his
head, "There was a presence in my dreams. A very powerful presence.
It was a being I had never seen before. It looked like, and had the physical
strength of a Draenei, but this was more powerful than . . . I even venture
to say . . . you." 

Gul'dan thought for a moment, "Garona, take a head count of them, make
sure all of the Shadow Council is intact. I want to make sure that no one
is missing." Then he mounted the podium and called out, "And you!
Tell no one of this visage but yourselves or me. I will be in my study."

Gul'dan exited the Tower and made his way back to the Stronghold which was
his home. A presence, so powerful, perhaps even more powerful than himself.
But why had it contacted his Warlocks . . . and more to the point, why had
it not contacted him?

The forests of Draenor resembled fungi of our world. These
forests housed many creatures, all but the now extinct Draenei. But it did
house one creature which was of use to Gul'dan, this creature was Kil'jaeden,
the Daemon, who had long since delved into the dark arts and evil magiks
so far that he had no chance of escape. 

The Daemon dwelled in an underground labyrinth of small tunnels, the entrance
to which was mounted with a stone tablet, carved with runes that only the
Daemon himself could ever understand. 

Gul'dan stood at the stone, he touched a rune, and the ground opened up
before him to reveal a stairway into the maze which was Kil'jaeden's home.

"Kil'jaeden!" the Warlock called.

An ominous voice answered him, "Enter, my pupil."

Gul'dan walked down the stairs until he touched solid ground. The exit closed
up after him, and darkness surrounded the Warlock. 

A pair of yellow, glowing eyes met the Orc, "What council do you seek,
Gul'dan of the Stormreaver Clan?"

Gul'dan felt unexpectedly nervous, this was not the greeting he was used
to, "My teacher, I seek council on a strange presence which came to
my apprentices last night. Did you feel it, my teacher?" 

The eyes blinked, and there was a small snarl, "Yes, this presence
I did feel. It was a power, pure power that of which I have never dreamed
of before! This is a dangerous presence, you must avoid it!"

Gul'dan raised an eyebrow in the darkness. What was this? The mighty Daemon
sorcerer Kil'jaeden? Afraid? Of something which was merely as strong as
a Draenei? The Daemon had never ever shown fear to any. He didn't fear the
horde, the Draenei, not even the Elementals which once roamed these lands.
And now he chose to fear this weak creature?

"I must leave now," said Gul'dan. The door opened up and the Warlock
fled out the door, afraid himself of what daemons do when they feel fear.

Gul'dan fled through meditation across the Twisting Nether.
He must find this presence, find out what it wanted, and what it could give
in return.

It seemed hours unending would be the only prize for Gul'dan when he felt
a surge of power. The Twisting Nether could not have radiated such power
itself and the Warlock knew that he had found the presence he had sought
for so much.

It was larger than himself, not as the Warlocks had described it. It must
have been very powerful to alter its image on the Twisting Nether, a talent
which he hadn't even the slightest of. 

"Who are you?" it asked.

Gul'dan tried to look brave and proud in front of such a powerful presence,
"I am Gul'dan, leader of the Shadow Council, the Stormreaver Clan,
and controller of the Orcish Hordes."

"Quite a title," said the presence, "I am Medivh, the Keeper
of Secrets."

Gul'dan raised an eyebrow, "What secrets do you keep?" 

Medivh laughed and "walked" around the Warlock, "Even if
you could understand, why would I tell you, Gul'dan, leader of the Shadow
Council?"

Gul'dan shrugged, "Just curious."

This entity radiated such untold power, Gul'dan's mind raced at the mathematical
quantity of it all. Medivh, as he had said he was named, could supply the
power Gul'dan needed to reach his needs . . . his destiny. Even though this
sorcerer . . . Medivh, had so much power, he had no clue how to control
it in the emotional fashion displayed by Kil'jaeden. If Gul'dan could understand
the power within Medivh . . . the possibilities themselves caused the wizard
to have a small spell of dizziness. The Warlock peered into Medivh's mind.
Gul'dan was fascinated at the speed which this boy's mind functioned. Thoughts
raced by so speedily that the Warlock had little time to read them. He soon
realized that his own thoughts were being probed at astronomical speeds
by Medivh. Realizing that the stranger would learn considerably more than
he would, Gul'dan broke contact and left the Twisting Nether.

Gul'dan touched the rune again. 

The door opened and the Warlock called out, "Kil'jaeden!" 

Complete and utter silence was the only answer that met Gul'dan. Had his
master tasted fear? And had the taste been so bitter that he had forsaken
his most trusted student? Gul'dan dared not venture into the daemon's home;
deadly creatures of the land lurked there. 

The Warlock thought, could it be even remotely possible for him to mentally
battle such a creature as Medivh? A creature that had frightened his own
teacher into hiding. He would have to take another trip to the Twisting
Nether.

It took several weeks and unsuccessful tries and yet still
Medivh had not contacted him. Gul'dan woke and jumped up from his bed, "This
is useless!" he shouted to himself. 

Garona was there, standing in the corner, "It always seems that Medivh
contacts you only when he wants to be contacted." She said, walked
towards the Warlock, "Technically, it is useless. Medivh wants something,
and I believe that we can give it to him. Once he wants to, Gul'dan, he
will contact you, that I can be sure of." The Half-Orc poured two glasses
of liquid, one for her and one for Gul'dan. She handed him one, "I
say just leave him alone, don't waste your time, strength, and sanity. He'll
come to you when he's ready." She sipped her glass, "Leave it
at that."

That very night, all the horde was asleep. It was that
night that Gul'dan, along with all his warlocks, dreamed. . .

It was Medivh, he seemed to be cloaked in light itself. He floated around
in front of the Warlock, "You fear me, for you do not understand me.
See my world and understand your fear. Then fear no more."

The Warlock felt restrained and powerless as sights flooded his vision.
Dark swamps, full of creatures; emerald grasses of endless fields; magnificent,
green trees of vegetation; farmlands luscious with rich harvesting; proud,
strong people infesting villages. 

So many images rushed by the Warlock's vision, but through all the pictures
of life, vegitation, and lands to conquer, one image was picked out by Gul'dan.
. . an image which ignited a burning desire in his soul. And image of something
. . .buried deep beneath the ocean; dark an ruined, but still breathing
. . . still pulsing with the lifeblood of the earth itself . . . and ancient
power . . . ancient and terrible.

Gul'dan embraced consciousness like a hot coal. He knew,
that everything Medivh had shown him was not an illusion; it was real. Realy
and Beautiful. Medivh played his cards well. The Warlock couldn't help but
smile in sheer admiration. Medivh had shown the wonders of that world, and
the wizard knew enough about the Orcish Hordes to know that they wouldn't
rest, until his world was under the control of them.

"A way to escape this world will soon be ours!"
Gul'dan cried at the meeting of the Shadow Council. Necrolytes and Warlocks
alike moaned some utterances of disbelief.

J'Kar, a female Necrolyte, rolled her eyes at the Warlock, "How can
you be so sure that Medivh doesn't intend certain death for us? It could
be a common ploy on his world."

Bloodclaw, a Warlock like Gul'dan, stood up to defend his mentor, "Look
at what's left of our people, what have we got to lose?" 

Uykill, another Necromancer, stood up beside J'Kar, "These battles
between Orc clans have been beneficial to us. They have flooded the underworld
with luscious rivers of blood. I like it the way it is."

All the Necrolytes stood up and cheered agreement. Gul'dan rapped his staff
on the podium, "Are you fools? The rivers of the underworld will be
teeming with your blood! No Orc will be left standing!"

Garona spread out a large scroll on the table, she pointed to a drawing
of a flag on a map, "Right now, most of the clans have turned on the
RedSword Clan, and that will keep them from attacking us for the moment.
This is what we need! The leader of the RedSword is not well liked among
the horde. The Horde needs a common foe to divert the fighting from each
other. That way we're all happy. The underworld will overflow with the blood
of our new enemies, thus satisfying the Necrolytes. And we'll still be alive,
thus taking care of the Warlock's way. Our destiny is in this world. This
I can promise you."

Gul'dan nodded at the Half-Orc, "Thank you, Garona. I will try to get
contact Medivh and get him to open some kind of gateway into his world.
Garona, J'Kar, and Uykill, find any Warlock outside the Shadow Council who
experienced these visions and murder him. Should information of this new
world escape into the Horde, certain chaos will follow. Tell no one outside
the Shadow Council of these events! Is that clear?"

It was a normal day within the Horde. Aside from the one
or two idle bickering, nothing of notice happened, until the middle of the
day, when the red orb of their sun was at its zenith.

"Gul'dan! Gul'dan!" a peon raced up to the Warlock, "The
workers have found something!"

The Warlock stood up from his study, "What?"

"It is a flying worm!" The peon cried.

Gul'dan raised an eyebrow. He followed the peon out of his Stronghold.

Garona, Bloodclaw, Uykill and J'kar were already there.
It did actually look like a flying worm. It was about the size of a worm,
and the shape of it, too. But it was not a worm. It was stationary, as if
it was on a wall, but there was no wall. 

Gul'dan smiled. He whispered in Garona's ear, "Call a meeting of the
Shadow Council."

The Half-Orc returned the smile, "Already on it, Gul'dan."

Gul'dan rapped his staff on the podium, "The Meeting
of the Shadow Council is now in order," he gave one final rap and then
seated himself, "What information do we have on this rift?"

Bloodclaw stood up, "It is most definitely a tear in the dimensional
fabric of Draenor, we can't tell where it leads until it's large enough
to fit an Orc through."

Garona piped in, "It isn't a natural tear, the Twisting Nether can't
cause that. Something, or someone, more to the point, broke it open."

Gul'dan smiled, "The wizard did not disband us."

"You think this is a portal to their world?" J'Kar asked. 

The Warlock nodded, "I think this is the sign we've been waiting for."

One of the Shadow Council's Warlocks, Kihuril, stood up, "I've done
some examining, and I think that, using some spells, we can enlarge the
portal, maybe just a bit. But in time, we should have it large enough to
put an Orc through."

"How long?"

To Be Continued . . .

Coming Soon:



Act II: The Coming of the Horde