The History of Orcish Acsension
(as told by Gul'dan, Chieftain of the Stormreaver clan)
The Rise of the Shadow Council
Like an elemental force of havoc and destruction we thundered through
the lands of the Draenei devastating all that we beheld. Not one life
was spared. No building was left standing. The only traces of their
existence were the blood-soaked fields they had worked for nearly five
thousand years and the rank, acrid smell of the huge victory fires that
consumed the bodies of their young. The Draenei were a weak people –
hardly worth the effort of our raiding sweep. In the end, however, even
these simple victories serve to keep the inferior in their place…
It has always been so with my kind. The savage, brutal tendencies of
the masses are easily manipulated by those who hold true power. Power
is the true force that drives the great destructive machine that is
the Horde. Those who imagine themselves in possession of this power
rally around their clan banners of violence. Yet without a common foe,
even the leaders of the Orc clans blindly turn upon each other. The
appetite for destruction that prevails amongst these fools drives the
Horde; might and might alone is honoured above all things.
I am Gul'dan – the greatest of all Warlocks and Initiate of the
Seventh Circle of the Shadow Council. No one knows the dark, burning
allure of ultimate power better than I.
In what passed as my youth, I studied Orc magiks through the tribal
Shaman of my clan. My natural talent for channeling the cold, negative-energies
of the Twisting Nether brought me notable standing amongst the other
Shaman, and I knew that even Ner'zhul, the greatest of my teachers,
became jealous of me as my abilities grew ever stronger.
My aspirations rose higher than those of my peers and masters alike,
for I knew that the scope of their vision was limited by their devotion
to the advancement of the Horde. I cared nothing for the Horde or its
petty politics. I cared nothing for this world over which we had complete
domination. I cared only for the chance to fathom the spiraling mysteries
of the Great Dark Beyond. I had begun secret explorations of energies
far beyond the scope of anything that my so-called tutors could possibly
comprehend. It was at this time that I discovered a being of immense
power – the Daemon Kil'jaeden. I was in awe of his heartless fury.
To witness his awesome power was to be all but consumed. In the fleeting,
fevered nightmares he brought me, I touched the essence of what which
lies Beyond. Within mean unfathomable lust was sewn – a desire
to wield the fury of ethereal storms and to stand unscathed within the
dying hearts of burning suns.
Under the tutelage of Kil'jaeden, I realized how limited even my understanding
had been. Untold histories of ancient Daemon races and primal magical
dimensions were made known to me. I learned that there existed worlds
without number, scattered throughout the darkness beyond the sky –
worlds wo which I might lead the Horde as only one of my abilities could.
Though I remained with my people on the dark, red world of the Draenei,
I soon learned to project myself into the depths of the Twisting Nether,
being driven nearly mad by the whispering chaos contained therein. Although
it seemed it would mean my death, I was irresistibly compelled to continue
my sojourn until, finally unbound from my corporeal existence, I understood
the whispers. It was then that I first spoke to the dead…
Ancestral worship has long been at the heart of Orcish religion. While
nearly all of the Orcish Hordes believed that our dead elders watched
and guided us from the depths of some lost realm of chaos, I believed
this notion to be a product of ritual and not reality. Within the Twisting
Nether I discovered that the spirits of the dead do linger on, floating
on the astral winds between the worlds. I learned that they kept their
endless, silent vigil over the clans in hope of finding some means of
escape from their lifeless torment. I knew then that these spirits of
the dead would be a useful tool for anyone who could bind them to his
will.
Years passed. My apprenticeship under Kil'jaeden had allowed me to
become the most powerful Warlock the clans had seen in many generations.
My place within the Horde was as a respected leader, but as ever, tensions
ran high amongst the clans. The destruction of the Draenei left nothing
upon which the great beast of war- could feed. After centuries of violence
and warfare, we had finally conquered the whole of our world. With no
enemies left to crush and no new lands to conquer, the clans had fallen
into a state of utter anarchy. Minor disputes between clans led to open
battle and massive bloodshed. Those chieftains who attempted to assume
the position of overlord soon found themselves slaughtered by the ravenous
legions of the disheartened Horde. I knew that the time had come to
claim the mantle of power that I had so long neglected.
I quickly gathered together the few Warlocks who had shown some spark
of passion and desire to rise above the petty quarrelling of the clans.
To these Warlocks I bestowed the knowledge of the dead by leading them
in secret rituals and communing with the spirits of the Twisting Nether.
Those who were incapable of channeling this power were destroyed. After
a time a pact was forged between the members of our circle and the dark
spirits whose energies we had learned to invoke. I would use my place
among the Warlocks to shape the thoughts of others while, cloaked by
a veil of secrecy, they would be immune to the caprices of the bloodthirsty
masses. Thus did the Shadow Council come to be.
Within a few short months the Shadow Council had its hand in all of
the important political matters within the Horde. Nothing occurred within
the Horde that we did not know about, and many events took place by
our design – so cleverly implemented that even the clan chieftains
were oblivious to our manipulations. Before half a year had passed,
we had assumed near total control of the inner workings of the Horde.
Yet, behind all of our secret machinations, there loomed the silent
and ominous shadow of the Daemon Kil'jaeden.
In pursuit of furthering our magical resources, I opened a new school
of magical discipline that became known as Necromancy. We began training
young Warlocks in the arcane mysteries of life and death. Again, with
tutelage from the Daemon Kil'jaeden, these Necrolytes delved into the
dark arts, eventually gaining power enough to animate and control the
bodies of the newly dead. Every victory – every success –
left me with an emptiness I could not fill. I came to realize that the
Shadow Council could serve my purposes only to an extent, and thus I
would require even greater power should I wish to become the true harbinger
of our destiny.
The Mastery of Forces – Medivh and Blackhand
Things were well within the Horde. Though the Shadow Council kept the
warring clans pacified by the promise of escape from the dying world,
I knew that this new order – much like the war against the Draenei
– would provide only a brief respite if I could not find new lands
for the Orcs to conquer. My contemplation on this matter was disturbed
late one night when I was surprised by the sound of screams emanating
from the Warlocks' Tower. I arrived to find many of the apprentices
locked in deep trances, their faces twisting into masks of pain. The
Warlocks, whom I questioned in detail, could tell me only that they
had felt an unexplainable presence in their dreams. I returned to my
Stronghold, deeply puzzled by the fact that whatever it was that had
contacted the Warlocks, had made no attempt to reach me.
I sought the counsel of Kil'jaeden about this presence. He also was
touched by this power – a power that was beyond any he had ever
experienced before. Whether it was the image of a force so awesome that
it could cause this baneful Daemon to actually feel fear, or my own
trepidation, I fled – moving aimlessly through the Twisting Nether
for what seemed an eternity.
It was during my fevered flight that the Presence finally made contact
with me. It radiated untold power, but it lacked the emotionless control
displayed by Kil'jaeden. My senses seemed to take control over the dread
that had engulfed me, and my mind began to cipher and reason. I knew
that if I could divine the desires of this force, no matter how powerful,
I could use it to further my own ends. The presence identified itself
as Medivh, a sorcerer from some far and distant world. We communicated
not in words, but in a guarded joining of minds. His mind seemed boundless,
but his thoughts moved so swiftly that it was difficult to learn anything
from him. All the while, I knew that he was probing me – learning
more and more about the Orcs and our magic. I could never learn as much
from him as he would from me, and I soon broke contact with him.
I sought the counsel of Kil'jaeden, but he refused to answer my summons.
Somehow I knew that he had forsaken his students because he was afraid
of this Medivh. I found myself again doubting my skills. Could I contend
with a being who could intimidate my own master? I continued to venture
into the Twisting Nether for several weeks, all but forgetting the disturbance
that had caused me to question myself. Then one night, Medivh appeared
to me in my dreams…
"You fear me, for you do not understand me. Se my world and understand
your fear. Then fear no more."
I was powerless to resist what came next:
…barren wastes…
…dark swamps, teeming with life…
…endless fields of emerald grasses…
…forests of magnificent trees…
…farmlands filled with rich harvests…
…villages of proud, strong people…
Images came, flashing much too quick to comprehend. And then…
something. A fleeting picture that left a longing stirring inside of
my soul…
…buried deep beneath the ocean; dark and ruined,
but still breathing…
…still pulsing with the lifeblood of the earth itself…
…an ancient power…
…ancient and terrible…
I awoke. I embraced consciousness knowing all along that the dream
had been real. Medivh had shown me the wonders of his world, knowing
that the Horde would not be content until his world was ours…
I met with the members of the Shadow Council concerning the visions
that we had seen. Although there was much debate as to the true intentions
of this Medivh, I informed the Shadow Council that a way to escape from
our world would soon be ours. I would seek the aid of Medivh in creating
a way to get to his world, and then we would subjugate his race as we
had done to all others who stood before us. Although he had appeared
to many Warlocks with these images of a new and fertile world, we agreed
to keep the knowledge of this enigmatic message to ourselves. Those
Warlocks outside of the Shadow Council who had shared in the visions
were killed; for if the secret were revealed before preparations were
made, the Horde would tear itself apart. Weeks passed with no word from
Medivh. My attempts to contact him were fruitless. It was as if he had
erased any trace of himself from the Twisting Nether. Some members of
the Council gave up any hope of the wizard ever returning.
…Then the rift appeared…
It took considerable time to expand the rift enough to send the massive
frame of an Orc through. The first scouts to return from the other side
seemed to be driven completely mad by what they had seen. These early
failures did not deter us, and subsequent quests confirmed that the
world beyond this rift appeared similar to what was depicted in our
visions. With the combined powers of the Horde's Warlock clans and the
Shadow Council, we were able to enlarge the mysterious rift so as to
create a Portal. This Portal was used to move a great number of Orcs
into this unknown land. A small outpost was quickly built on the other
side of the rift, and Orc scouts were sent to explore the surrounding
areas.
The agents of the Shadow Council reported that the denizens of this
world were called Humans, and their lands were known as Azeroth. We
found that these Humans were a weak race, farming their fields and living
peacefully in the countryside. I feared that they would prove no more
of a challenge than the Draenei, and would not appease the hunger of
the Orcish war machine for long. The clan chieftains, quickly swayed
by their lust for blood and war, agreed that it was time to leave this
dying world and lay claim to the domains of Azeroth.
While the Shadow Council kept watch over the workings of the Horde,
the masses looked to the clan chiefs as their leaders. Two chieftains
arose who were well respected and feared by the various clans –
Cho'gall, the Ogre-Mage of the Twilight's Hammer clan, and Kilrogg Deadeye
of the Bleeding Hollow clan. These powerful leaders were expected to
direct the Horde to a swift and savage victory over the Humans. Thus,
as the Horde gradually channeled through the rift into Azeroth, Cho'gall
and Kilrogg began to plan their assault against the Human stronghold
of Stormwind.
The attack against Stormwind was catastrophic. Our armies, expecting
to meet weak resistance, charged headlong into the enemy fortress. Surprisingly,
the Human soldiers held our forces at bay. Then they unleashed warriors
mounted upon beasts of muscle and sinew to devastate our troops. The
Humans forced our troops to retreat back into the swamplands surrounding
our outpost and the Portal where, only by the invoking of the shrouding
mists of shadow, were we able to escape. This decisive and humiliating
defeat threw the Horde into chaos. Cho'gall and Kilrogg blamed each
other's incompetence for the failure, and the Orcs quickly polarized
into factions that supported either chieftain. The Shadow Council desperately
sought a remedy to the violence that was sure to follow, but the volatile
nature of the Orcs made it difficult to appeal to reason or wisdom.
I realized that the Horde needed a strong leader that could unify the
clans under his control – and be kept in his place. Thus did I
first learn of Blackhand the Destroyer…
Blackhand, chieftain of the young Blackrock clan and a Raider in the
Sythegore Arm, was well honoured by most of the Orcs within the Horde.
More importantly, he was extremely lustful, and this made him easily
corruptible. With help from the Shadow Council, I set the eager Blackhand
upon the horned throne of the War Chief. To his credit, Blackhand was
a ruthless dictator who inspired awe and terror from his warriors. While
the Horde rallied under Blackhand and the other chieftains acquiesced
control to him, it was I who dictated policy by blackmailing and bribing
Blackhand.
With Blackhand's ascension to War Chief, order was restored to the
Horde. I was visiting again by the visage of Medivh, who appeared more
in control of his powers, but less in control of his mind. Petitioning
the Horde to destroy the kingdom of Azeroth, but to make him ruler of
its people, Medivh offered all manners of treasures and baubles to me.
I assured him that his world was ours for the taking, and that he held
nothing that could persuade the Horde to do his bidding. His face broke
into a wicked sneer as he proceeded to show me the image of an ancient
tomb upon which was etched the name of the Daemonlord Sargeras. The
Tomb of Sargeras! The Daemonlord who had instructed my own tutor Kil'jaeden
was entombed upon this pathetic little world! Destiny had chosen to
lay the hand upon my shoulders alone, for Kil'jaeden had told me that
the lost Tomb contained power absolute – enough to make any who
could control it into a living god. Medivh pledged that he would grant
me the location of the Tomb if only I would use the Horde to destroy
his enemies…
Thus, the Orcish Hordes made war against the kingdom of Azeroth.
The First War of Orcish Ascension
We took the lands of Azeroth from the Humans and razed all that we
surveyed. My personal assassin, Garona the Half-Orc, executed Azeroth's
leader King Llane and returned his heart to me. Although the Horde dominated
Azeroth and the pathetic worms who defended it, my own plans were badly
hampered.
A small band of Human warriors stormed Medivh's Tower and engaged the
insane sorcerer in direct combat. As his body was slashed and torn by
the swords of Azeroth, Medivh began to transmit telepathic waves of
trauma across the astral plane which easily shattered even my formidable
defenses. I attempted to reach into the sorceror's mind and steal the
location of the Tomb from him directly, but before I could divest the
location, Medivh was killed by the Azerothiens. Having been inside his
mind at the moment of his temporal death, I suffered a massive psychic
backlash and fell into a catatonic state.
For weeks I slept as if dead, closely guarded by my faithful Warlocks.
When I finally arose, I learned of the shift in the balance of power
within the Horde. Blackhand had been killed. Without my magiks and counseling
to aid him, Blackhand fell prey to a surprise attack launched by one
of his strongest and most trusted generals – Orgrim Doomhammer.
Orgrim was quick to consolidate his power within the Horde, justifying
the assassination of Blackhand by securing false testimony that supported
his claims of the Destroyer's incompetence as War Chief.
It seemed that the hand of fate had struck me a harsh blow. Orgrim
set out to uncover the inner workings of the Horde, leaving no stone
unturned. Eventually, his spies captured my servant Garona and under
intensive, agonizing torture, forced her to reveal the existence and
location of the Shadow Council. She was weaker than I had expected.
Suspecting that the Shadow Council was a threat to his control of the
Horde, Doomhammer led his Wolfriders in a surprise attack against my
Citadel near the ruins of Stormwind Keep. The Warlocks, caught unprepared
by Orgrim's assault, held off the Horde as long as their magiks would
last. Having no time to rest or replenish their energies, the Warlocks
fell before the wrath of Orgrim. In the end, Doomhammer was victorious.
Any surviving Warlocks were branded as traitors to the Horde. The public
executions were effective in weakening my position and strengthening
his…
I was taken before Orgrim and questioned at length about my involvement
with the Shadow Council. Being greatly weakened by the backlash of Medivh's
death as well as the energies I had expended during the battle, I found
that I was in no position to either threaten nor harm the War Chief.
Orgrim made it clear to me that the Horde was under his control, and
that he was not as easily swayed as his predecessor. The gleam in his
eye and the steel at his side bespoke his intentions, but I would not
be defeated so easily. While he may have held the upper hand, I reminded
him that with the death of the Warlocks, I was the last true sorcerer
within the Horde. Orgrim, made impudent by his victory, agreed that
perhaps I could prove useful, and agreed to let me live – by his
good graces. I silently vowed that he would one day take those words
to his grave.
Although his suspicions of me were never fully assuaged, I did succeed
in convincing the War Chief that the Raiders were preparing to unite
with the sons of Blackhand in a revolt against him. Although this claim
was untrue, Orgrim was already suspicious of Rend and Maim and so disbanded
the multitude of Wolfriders, sending them into the various arms of the
Grunt forces. To demonstrate my 'loyalty' to Orgrim and the Horde, I
promised to create a host of undead riders that would be completely
loyal to him alone. Although the Doomhammer did not fully trust me,
the idea was sufficiently appealing, and so I was allowed to enter seclusion
to create this new legion.
Even with the aid of my Necrolytes, I was unsuccessful in bringing
forth this undead force. Failure and weakness were all that these minions
could offer me, until I sensed that while their spirits were willing
– it was the flesh that was weak. I summoned them to a great alter
constructed of Ironwood and Blackroot where, at the height of a black
incantation, I took the lives of every last one of them. In the bloody
wake of their executions, the Necrolytes would finally nourish my creation
of the perfect undead servant.
Using what few resources I still controlled within the Horde, I acquired
many of the long-dead corpses of the fallen Knights of Azeroth. Into
these twisted and decaying forms I instilled the essences of the greater
members of the Shadow Council who were quite willing to return to the
mortal plane to wreak terror and havok once again. I furnished each
of the dark riders a jeweled truncheon through which they could better
focus the unearthly powers they would brandish. Into these jewels were
infused the raw, necromantic magiks of the freshly slain Necrolytes.
Thus were the Death Knights born.
Orgrim Doomhammer was pleased which these Knights of Death. Although
the spirits of the Shadow Council remained loyal to me, they feigned
allegiance to the War Chief. Orgrim was well satisfied with the realization
of my promise, and allowed me to go about my own affairs.
I will be patient and bide my time, pretending to be the faithful servant
until the time comes to show this presumptuous, boisterous upstart who
is greater between us. My designs to discover the Tomb of Sargeras still
remain. I have assembled the Stormreaver clan to be my support when
the season finally comes to strike back at Orgrim for his insolent crimes
against me…
That day draws near – and Doomhammer cannot know what terrors
await him,
for I am Gul'dan…
I am darkness incarnate.
I will not be denied.
