wow Battle for Azeroth Collector's Edition: A Tale of Two Novellas

[Stan 5,021]

Blizzard released short excerpts from novellas depicting the Burning of Teldrassil from the point of view of the Alliance (Elegy, by Christie Golden) and the Horde (A Good War, by Robert Brooks). Both novellas can be found in the Collector's Edition of World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth available for pre-order at your local retailer.

Blizzard (Source)

There are two sides to every story. Get a taste for the tension and drama that unfolds in this preview of our Battle for Azeroth novellas: Elegy by Christie Golden and A Good War by Robert Brooks. These two tales explore the Horde and the Alliance versions of a fateful event, but only you can decide which faction tells it best.

The full versions of both novellas are available in one beautiful hardback edition, complete with original and exclusive artwork, in the Collector’s Edition of World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth—available for pre-order at your local retailer now.

Alliance - Elegy

Quote

Commander!” Delaryn shouted. “Commander! We have come under attack!”

Anaris whirled, her mangled face darkening with anger. Her gaze flitted to Ferryn. “Explain.”

The Sentinels stopped, their weariness fleeing in the face of true peril to their people, listening with their whole bodies as Delaryn spoke.

“Horde rogues,” Delaryn said. “Several of them. They killed our nightsabers first to keep the word from spreading. Many are dead. Vannara says that reports have come in from other outposts in Ashenvale, citing the same thing.”

For a moment, Anaris just stared at her; then she whirled to the Sentinels. “Why are you just standing there? You, run to Silverwing Grove! See if—”

Ferryn let out a throaty, furious snarl, but it came too late. Feeling Ferryn tense, Delaryn leaped off him, but a Forsaken had already dropped down from an overhanging branch.

He landed directly on Anaris’s back, stabbing with his twin blades as she fell. Swifter than a dead thing ought to be able to move, the assassin rolled to his feet. One of his daggers made a clean, swift strike across Marua’s throat, almost severing her head from her body.

With a yowl of fury, Ferryn sprang toward the Forsaken, while—too slowly—Delaryn drew an arrow and nocked it to her bow. There was a blur, and then another rogue was there, a blood elf, slashing out with his own blades, long golden hair flying behind him like a cloak. In what seemed like the span of a single heartbeat, half a dozen night elves were left bleeding out or spasming in torment on the verdant forest floor.

Finally, the Sentinels rallied. The blood elf vanished at once, but no matter. They would catch him as he fled like the coward he was. They sent a rain of arrows toward the gaps in the trees, but hit nothing. The sin’dorei had eluded them.

The Forsaken was not so lucky. Eriadnar surged toward him, drawing her sword. She sliced a furrow across the killer’s torso and lopped off one of his arms. Ferryn pounced, pinning him to the ground, exercising remarkable restraint in not tearing out his throat.

Anaris Windwood lay on the forest floor, her eyes open but their glow extinguished. “Commander?” Eriadnar said.

“She is dead,” Delaryn replied harshly; she was still furious with Windwood, though the commander was far beyond her anger now.

“Delaryn,” Eriadnar said quietly, “you are commander now.”

So she was. How strange it sounded. Delaryn shook herself and moved toward the prisoner. Her eyes fell on the daggers he had dropped, covered with Anaris’s blood. She picked one up carefully, then nodded to Ferryn. He stepped back, growling menacingly at the Forsaken.

She stared down at him, channeling her pain and fury as she spat out, “Talk to me, Forsaken, and perhaps I will let you live.”

“Live?” he grunted, in that awful, hollow tone so distinctive of his race. “I have not lived in some time, elf.”

“You enjoy word games? Let us play a counting game instead.” She gestured at him. “You are minus one arm. I can make it two. Or better yet, I will start small. You still have five fingers. Tell me something I can use, corpse, or I shall make it four.”

When he didn’t reply, she knelt, grabbed his hand by the wrist, and brought his blade close.

He hissed angrily. “I’ll speak!”

So the blade is poisoned. Even though he is dying, he does not want that level of pain.

“Tell me your orders.”

Dead lips curled back from yellowed teeth. Foul breath struck Delaryn full in the face as he laughed. Her stomach rebelled, but she willed herself not to wince.

“I would have thought they were obvious,” he said. “Were the intelligent ones the first to die? Oh wait, there are no intelligent night elves. A troll got another commander’s ears, you know. He’s wearing them now.”

It was, she knew, quite possibly true. But Delaryn did not rise to the bait. “There is no Val’kyr to bring you back if I shove this through your throat.”

Delaryn eyed the blade.

“What kind of poison did you use?” she asked casually. “I would guess it is a painful one—you Forsaken like those. If you do not tell me something useful soon, I will conclude you are stalling for time and therefore have nothing to tell me.” Her voice was cold.

“What prisoner would not stall for time? Existence is precious. Even we know that.”

It was true. The night elves harbored a deep respect for life. They did not torture prisoners, nor did they take delight in unnecessary casualties. But they had little use for the abominations that were the Forsaken.

Something inside her turned hard as stone. Delaryn brought the blade to within a fraction of an inch of his index finger. “Do not. Test. Me.”

The cruel glee faded from his rotting features as he realized she was not making an idle threat. “You cannot win,” he said. “We are everywhere. Have you not yet grasped that it’s all of your posts that are under attack? Dozens like me have descended upon them with our painful poisons. And your clever hunters, your vaunted Sentinels, your slinking druids—none had the slightest idea.”

Delaryn thought of the druid who had flown to Silverwind Refuge with his message. Some outposts had indeed reported a surprise attack. But there was something in the Forsaken’s words that felt forced.

“You are bluffing,” Delaryn snapped. “What is your plan? The Horde was marching on Silithus. Why divert to Ashenv—”

And then the answer presented itself, so blindingly obvious that she felt as though she’d been stabbed in the gut.

The night elven fleet was en route to Feralas.

Tyrande was in Stormwind.

“You are clearing a path,” she murmured, horrified.

The Forsaken made no answer but laughed again.

Delaryn raised the dagger, but the rogue’s laughter turned to a coughing wheeze. Gooey liquid spewed from his throat, and then he lay still. He had cheated her; his wounds had claimed his unlife before she could. Delaryn wasted no energy in frustration at the Forsaken’s final jest or the precious minutes she had spent interrogating him. She’d lost enough time.

She sprang to her feet. “Eriadnar, are you injured?”

“No, Commander.”

“Then run, sister,” she said. “Run as fast as you can to Darnassus. Do not fight. Do not stop. Hide if you must. But get this message to Darnassus. Tell Malfurion an army is coming.”

Ferryn shifted back to his kaldorei form. “I can fly faster than she can run,” he offered.

Delaryn shook her head. “I have another task for you. Go, Eriadnar. May Elune guide your path.”

The Sentinel nodded, wide-eyed, and leaped to obey as swiftly as an arrow shot from a bow.

Delaryn turned to Ferryn. “Make for the Barrens. The Horde is coming. We need to know how much time we have before they arrive. Keep going until you see them. Do not engage unless you must. Stay alive, and report back.”

He nodded. They looked at one another for a moment. There was no need for words. They had gone into battle countless times before, sometimes together, sometimes on their own. Now, they had been plunged into it yet again.

At the same moment, they reached for each other, kissed deeply, and then turned to their duties.

Ferryn didn’t know, but whenever the two of them parted, Delaryn prayed to Elune that he would be safe. She asked for that favor again now, and for the first time, she had the faintest fluttering that, in this battle, the beautiful, loving moon goddess might not answer that prayer.

Horde - A Good War

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The elf’s face contorted, and for a moment, Saurfang believed he was about to cry. But no—with his last breath, the dying rogue spit onto Saurfang’s boots, leaving streaks of blood and saliva across his armor. Then he went still.

Morka stepped next to Saurfang, a small axe in each of her hands. It had been over too fast for her to use them. “Defiant until the end,” she noted. “His people would be proud.”

Saurfang agreed. Such spirit. And I never even learned his name.

“You did well, spotting this assassin,” Saurfang told her. “But he never should have come this far.”

He strode outside, snarling. There were siege crews, guards, and soldiers all around. Astranaar was swimming with Horde, and not one of them had marked the stranger walking through their midst. Not one had challenged him.

He would enjoy explaining that to them in excruciating detail.

“Listen well!” he began. Heads turned toward him. Eyes glanced at the blood on his axe and armor.

“Does the Horde need a reminder that we are in a war? Does the Horde need—”

And then he stopped. His next heartbeats seemed to last an eternity. His fatigue-addled mind had finally caught up with his hard-earned survival instincts. That boy had not been sent to kill him.

He had been trying to lead Saurfang outside.

In his haste to lecture his guards, Saurfang had done exactly what that boy had wanted. You just killed yourself, you old fool. He turned and flung himself back into the inn. An instant later, the ground shook as Malfurion Stormrage landed where he had been standing.

“Lok-Narash!” he yelled. To arms!

His advisors and tacticians were already forming a line in the common room, pulling him behind it and standing at the ready. Like many night elf buildings, this one had open walls on three sides, giving them a view of the chaos roiling outside. Siege crews scrambled away from Malfurion, only to fall from arrows and blades in their backs.

This wasn’t just Malfurion. This was the kaldorei’s last stand in Ashenvale, a decapitation strike on the commander of this battle. And Saurfang—they had drawn him in so easily. Astranaar was an island with limited access. Easily defensible.

Impossible to escape.

And Saurfang had just taken shelter in a building with few walls. To fight an archdruid.

This is the end.

As the sounds of chaos rose outside, the inn darkened. Malfurion Stormrage stepped through the doorway, eyes fixed on Saurfang. Three of the high overlord’s advisors charged him.

“Stop!” Saurfang shouted.

Malfurion moved, and the metallic claws strapped to his wrists made short work of the two orcs and the blood elf. He stepped forward, over their bodies.

Morka grabbed Saurfang by the shoulder. “Run, High Overlord,” she said. “We will give you time.”

No, they wouldn’t. Not more than a heartbeat. It was time to die with honor. “Take the maps,” he whispered. “Get them to the warchief.”

Morka’s eyes went wide, but Saurfang turned away, roaring, “Malfurion Stormrage! I challenge you to mak’gora!”

The words sounded bizarre to his own ears. What use did a night elf have for an orcish duel to the death? It didn’t matter. Malfurion was here for Saurfang. He would not pursue a bunch of advisors.

Saurfang looked at the other Horde soldiers in the inn. Seeing their confusion, he raised his voice even louder. “Stormrage is mine, you gutless whelps! If you are not out of this inn in five seconds, I will kill you myself!”

Morka looked furious, but she obeyed. She snatched up the map container and sprinted out of the building. The rest quickly followed.

Malfurion’s eyes did not leave Saurfang’s. “A duel, Saurfang?” he asked in a soft voice—soft like the eye of a storm, like the freshly dug soil of a grave. The archdruid stepped forward calmly to where Saurfang waited. “Do you think I care in the slightest for a duel?”

“You can run, if you’re afraid,” Saurfang said. He was buying time. That was all. The only victory Saurfang could hope for was for the latest Horde troop movements to be delivered to Sylvanas’s hands so the battle might continue. “Or fight me, and see if I will fall.”

Malfurion said nothing. He raised his arms. The inn trembled. The wooden floor and ceiling creaked and groaned.

Saurfang’s lips pulled back into a snarl. The power of nature was not found in the swing of a fist or the slice of a blade. It was found when a forest was rent to dust by fire and yet returned in only a few years. It was found when a mighty city was claimed by overgrowth after being abandoned for a decade. It was found in a thousand generations of predator and prey, which lived and hunted by the instincts of their ancestors.

In the hands of a druid, that power could be condensed from centuries into a minute. In Malfurion’s hands . . .

This inn, and everything in it, would be returned to the earth in seconds.

Saurfang leapt forward, axe swinging, as vines and roots tore apart the inn. Malfurion stepped clear of his blow effortlessly, and the metal claws strapped to his hands darted toward Saurfang’s head. The orc batted them away with his axe shaft. Barely.

Saurfang roared, his axe whistled, and Malfurion’s second strike snaked between a gap in his armor around the shoulder. Blood dripped to the floor. Roots, countless roots, a whole forest of roots grabbed at Saurfang’s ankles. He danced away, chopping the plants whenever they tried to snare him.

When pieces of the inn started to fall around the orc’s head, he accepted his death. Against a creature like Stormrage, there was no dishonor in failure. Saurfang simply had to meet his end without surrender.

A sudden blast knocked him from his feet, dazing him. Saurfang closed his eyes. It is done. His hands went numb, tingling from the dark power that roared through the ruins of the inn—

Dark power?

Saurfang opened his eyes. Malfurion was not looking at him. His arms were crossed in front of his face as an arrow, wreathed in shades of violet smoke, exploded just before him. Emerald light rose against the darkness, and Malfurion charged to fight Sylvanas Windrunner, who had another arrow nocked and drawn at point-blank range.

Saurfang would have leapt to his feet, but his legs wouldn’t obey his commands.

Then the inn collapsed on top of him, and he was surrounded by darkness and pain. But he wasn’t dead. Not yet.

Death wasn’t supposed to hurt this much.

[PatrickHenry 293]

Oh my Goodness, already a great set.

[Lampanelli 75]

There is more to this story than meets the eye. Sylvanas isn't Garrosh, she attacks with reason, and tactical precision. Something about attacking Darnassus out of nowhere just to get to Tyrande seems off somehow.

The first picture is strange too. She's dressed like Sylvanas, and yet, that person doean't look like her completely. The eyes seem normal, the skin alive and well, and the smile seems out of character for Sylvanas too. Hers tend to be different.

Is another small faction in the Horde trying to frame her? A fascinating option, and something that makes me convinced I need to get this. Midnight opening in 4 months, here I come.

[Yridaa 490]

9 hours ago, Lampanelli said:

The first picture is strange too. She's dressed like Sylvanas, and yet, that person doean't look like her completely. The eyes seem normal, the skin alive and well, and the smile seems out of character for Sylvanas too. Hers tend to be different.

I'm not sure where you're getting the idea that that picture is of Sylvanas. She's not dressed like Sylvanas at all:

 

 

No skulls or feathers on the shoulders, the thigh armor plates are much lower in my picture, there's none of those "frills" below her chest. I'm not even talking about hair color differences... Ever since the legion opening cinematic (And once again in BfA), she's also using full leather to cover her belly.

 

 

Edit: Added a more recent picture:

Edited April 7, 2018 by Yridaa

[Nazamber 38]

**POSSIBLE SPOILERS***

 

So, I originally posted on the WoW forums that....

(You can't brand, "There are two sides to every story." Seems pretty one-sided to me...The Horde is being written as the aggressor, yet again...Still not looking forward to the story in the this expansion...

I feel like Chronicle paving the story is practically useless as like some of the post War III-Pre-Cata stuff is completely irrelevant. Like, I am all for this war stuff but come on...doing the whole trope of making the Horde bad is getting ridiculous. The Alliance has their "demons" that don't get shown in the story... such as how Greymane is more likely to cause the war since he has obsession with killing Undead, hence why he made his people Worgen...despite Arugal being reserved about it.. (Chronicle III) or how no one in the Alliance really trusts each other...(Chronicle III).

I mean its rather shoddy story...Lets have an expansion dedicated to Empirical Garrosh who commands the Horde to blow up Theramore so that we can have the Alliance and the separatist Horde siege Orgrimmar and take it back. After that, lets have the Horde leader do nothing for an expansion, kill him because we are killing the Alliance King...but lets ultimately blame the Horde for his death. So that the next expansion we have Undead Female Garrosh 2.0, command the Horde to blow up a tree so the Alliance can take back Undercity, which is the home of all the people that make up the Forsaken and the people Humans and Elves of the Alliance completely abandoned after they gained free will from the Lich King.

It just seems lazy to have an expansion because the Horde decided one day...Night Elves shouldn't be on Kalimdor...so lets go murder them...seems like Bloodlust / Garrosh mentality...")

BUT now I want to give Blizzard some credit for a second here about these stories....

1. We can't believe the broadcast texts that are being mined because Ion and Christie Golden stated prior to Alpha, "Who knows what will be real and fake when people start data-mining texts". I am sure everyone is aware, the biggest thorn in Blizz's side are the data miners, while us as lovers of the game and their story, enjoy getting some spoilers, the data miners tend to help aide in the downfall of the story due as Blizz counters what they see. I say this because sometimes writers love what they write and hate when people see what they write before the whole story is finished...and that causes them to react a little more erratically by changing things, its a weird (I wont let you know what happens until I want you too) i.e. Warlords of Draenor. Aside from time constraints and all that, Blizzard used the counterproductive campaign against a few data miners. As things were being "announced" things would magically not end up in the game, hence why the first content patch of WoD was a Selfie-Camera..However, I do believe there was a lot more going on at Blizzard which aided in WoD being a terrible expansion.

2. These above stories excerpts at first glimpse does promote an antagonistic Horde but what if we are all wrong..including myself to believe the Horde is acting irrationally. Think about this in Chronicle III it is re-highlighting the faction/racial leaders objectives. These bits about the leaders we love aren't retconning them, its reconfirming what they have always written as but because people are factionist or racist in the game...we made our own assumptions on the people we like in the story. (I could go on a long rant about how we have been blinded by the politics / leader development in the game on another forum).

3. When I first saw the picture of Malfurion and Saurfang...I saw something different. I saw a menacing Malfurion, look at his eyes..this is a different Malfurion than the crying "HELP ME TYRANDE, I NEED YOUUUU" Malfurion we dealt with during the Val'sharah quest line. He looks ready to spill blood...something very different from the Malfurion we have seen since War of the Ancients, Reign of Chaos, The Frozen Throne, Cataclysm...Malfurion which was designed to be the Alliance's Thrall, neutral. However, Malfurion has likely changed and I think a reason for this is the fact that he was trapped in the Nightmare for a long period of time and being held by Xavius. Who has 100% had no issues with corrupting people with just one minor touch or with few words. I mean he easily corrupted...The Emerald Guardians, Nythendra, Ysera, Fandral Staghelm (we'll get to him), Ursoc, Cenarius, the list goes on. How do we not know that Malfurion hasn't been tainted? We don't...because his story ended in the Rift of Aln...when we killed Xavius. 
            
          Theory piece 1: Malfurion...was chosen as N'zoth's next harbinger in response to Xavius's death. "Il'gonyth whispers: The Lord of Ravens will turn the key" Well...this may sound like a stretch but what if Malfurion is the Lord of Ravens. We want to believe that its either some mysterious rogue, Khadgar or whoever else...lets no forget Malfurion is a druid...and a Druid of the Talon none the less...Elerethe Renferal...was corrupted and her phased forms were a Spider and a Raven-like bird. Historically, Druid of the Talons shape shifting form was a Raven-like bird in Warcraft III (FYI). 

            Theory Piece 2: In Chronicle III, It touches on something very interestingly that no one would have really caught unless they paid that much attention to...Teldrassil, like Andrassil....is corrupted by the Nightmare. When Fandral went out in rebellion against Malfurion for preventing him from planting more seeds to create World Trees, Fandral knocked out Malfurion in the Emerald Dream which caused him to be mainly absent throughout majority of the game until Cataclysm. When Fandral planted the seeds of Teledrassil and the tree grew, he was in communication with Xavius who eventually led Fandral to being corrupted by N'zoth and aided in the tree becoming corrupted by the Emerald Nightmare and this incident has been swept under the rug and never mentioned to the Night Elves. However, we later assume that corruption was cleansed on Malfurion and Tyrande's wedding day right? Well, during Cataclysm and majority of Malfurion's time awake until Legion...he spent watching Teldrassil as he felt that the World Tree was never fully safe and we did enter the Rift of Aln when we went beyond Shaladrassil in the Emerald Nightmare.

4. Il'gonyth whispers:
         A. "Five keys to open way, five torches to light our path".
         - This has been interpreted on so many levels which is great... I am sticking with the World Tree theory, with Teldrassil being the last "door" to the Old Gods. Shaladrassil, Vordrassil, Nordrassil and Unnamed tree that was in Un'goro are all fallen...either corrupted, burnt or destroyed...the only one left is Teldrassil...

         B. " Its surface blazes bright, masking shadows below"
         - Going on my theory, this is a direct statement highlighting that Teldrassil has remained corrupted despite the Alexstrasza, Ysera blessings and that it will burst into flames. (Side Note: We don't know what happens to a Dragonflight's blessing after they die or become corrupted).

5. What we know....Malfurion is going to be involved with Teldrassil somehow...whether he is saving it or he is creating the fire and is likely going to be a casualty...The Horde is looking more and more to be an aggressor by the data mined and release of the above excerpts. Saurfang has either a come to jesus or something else. Saufang fights to defend Lordaeron.
 

My wishful thinking: Malfurion is corrupted/or knows that Teldrassil is corrupted. Somehow the Azerite sprouts near the Darkshore which is probably due to the Cataclysm or the corrupted roots of the Tree. The Night Elves by direction of Malfurion march against the Horde who in turn defend and push forward. Whatever happens on Teldrassil does not cause Saurfang to "desert", if we was going to splinter from the Horde...he would have done so prior to Lordaeron, plus he was there before the tree was lit into flames. I think Saurfang may have two paths, 1. To pretend to defect for Sylvanas to understand how deep the corruption in the Alliance lies...(they did accept Void Elves) or 2. He wants to speak to Anduin to let him know what happened at Teldrassil and state that Malfurion is the reason Darnassus was destroyed. (There are definitely holes in my theory, but I think until June-August, we can't really rule out a lot..) and if blizzad does continue with the cookie cutter story line that Horde is and and Alliance is good...then it goes to show you they wasted $$$ on Christie Golden...to only dot i's and cross t's better than their $60K a year...writing team...