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Around the time of Medivh’s birth on Azeroth, Kil’jaeden the Deceiver sat and brooded amongst his followers within the Twisting Nether. The cunning demonlord, under orders of his master, Sargeras, was plotting the Burning Legion’s second invasion of Azeroth. This time he would not allow any mistakes. Kil’jaeden surmised that he needed a new force to weaken Azeroth’s defenses before the Legion even set foot upon the world. If the mortal races, such as the night elves and dragons, were forced to contend with a new threat, they would be too weak to pose any real resistance when the Legion’s true invasion arrived. It was at this time that Kil’jaeden discovered the lush world of Draenor floating peacefully within the Great Dark Beyond.

Home to the shamanistic, clan-based orcs and the peaceful draenei, Draenor was as idyllic as it was vast. The noble orc clans roamed the open prairies and hunted for sport, while the inquisitive draenei built crude cities within the world’s towering cliffs and peaks. Kil’jaeden knew that Draenor’s denizens had great potential to serve the Burning Legion if they could be cultivated properly.  “Would you shatter our bond for the sake of pride?” the dragon asked. Fandral turned. “My son’s soul will find no comfort in this hollow victory, dragon. I will have him back. Though it takes millennia, I will have my son back!” Fandral then strode past Shiroma.

Who could see him in her mind even now, as if it were only yesterday and not a thousand years past.One by one, the gathered forces of Kalimdor looked to her, waiting. She struck out toward the dais, passing humans and tauren, gnomes and dwarves and even trolls, races whom her kind had fought against, who were now united to end the threat of the Qiraji once and for all. Shiromar stood at the base of the steps and took a deep breath. She climbed to the top of the dais and hesitated only for a second. Then, with one mighty swing, she smashed the scepter into the ancient gong. 

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