Not quite a valley

So I was on a magically grown boat, swimming away from the only way back to my reality, in the companionship of a botanus who insisted he owes me his life and must repay this debt. I understand why we had to be so quick about escaping it, but the last thing I wanted was being stuck on Draenor of the past. Of a different past, no less. The more I heard about what’s happening out there, the more I was sure this wasn’t the Draenor of my childhood. Somehow, this universe’s Shattered Hand is not a real clan, but a group of masochists and former ogre slaves. Let’s not even mention the Ogre Empire – which was long gone when I hatched, and yet here seems to still exist (albeit in a collapsing state). The fall of the Ogre Empire only happened with the rise of the Talon Kings, and Terokk. Could this mean that in this universe Terokk was never the religious and political figure he was in our reality?

Menrim’s Journal – Hiji

After finally sailing away from the Isle of Giants, I knew I was finally swimming away from Pandaria. Accordingly with all the maps I had of the area, I was entering a wide expanse of water with very few possible stops – no large islands, no significant naval trade routes. This particular corner of the South Seas lied completely on the fringe of civilization. My people have never sailed so far east. The Pandaren very rarely ventured beyond their mists. Humans were mostly frightened of this distant, empty sea, being told from childhood stories about islands full of giants and monsters and about mystical, distant lands full of forgotten warlocks who will share their magic with you for the price of your soul. Some of those stories can be quite captivating, in the hands of the right person, but ultimately they are all fiction. Although there are tiny islands with forgotten treasures and mysteries, they are very rare, and in the different part of the sea.

Menrim’s Journal – West Pandaria

I sailed for a long time today, seeing no land. Indeed, the South Seas are wide and islands are sparse, especially in these parts. Since I left Uldum the only land I passed in the distance was two unoccupied islands. Bearing nothing of importance to me, I quickly left them behind. I heard that once adventurers sought out something or someone in there, but whoever it was, he was long gone. After that, there was nothing for hours. Just a wide, calm sea with nothing but fish and an occasional murloc to accompany me. Oddly, the murlocs were all swimming alone, though I was informed they always swarm their enemies. Perhaps they did not expect anyone in these waters and were not ready to attack. I began to fear they would inform others and follow my boat, but I did not have to.

The Road Home

Previously on Arakkoa Chronicles: Damaging the Timeline

Swimming out of Southshore, I was finally on my way home. I regret that I could not learn the fate of Anduin, Sargeras or Uther’s and Turalyon’s mission, or how Daval Prestor’s machinations end up, but getting back home was my first and foremost objective. I have done enough damage as it was, and probably irrevocably changed the balance of power. I know you all are probably going to say I changed that world for the better, but I don’t care about these things. This isn’t my world, nor is it my timeline. I have no business in influencing the events, especially not to that degree. I simply had no other option – if I had to change this world, I would change it for the better.

Most of the way through the Great Sea wasn’t particularly eventful. We did however notice a chain of small island close to the Maelstrom. The goblin captain was thinking of stopping by these islands for a short time to rest, but I noticed through my spyglass something very interesting. On the islands, there was a couple of destroyed troll buildings, and what I think was graves, and then more bones strewn about. Also, a lot of murlocs everywhere on the islands. Islands near the Maelstrom, dead trolls, murlocs, I connected the dots – these are the Darkspear Islands and Vol’jin and his entire tribe appear to be dead. I instantly recommended to leave the vicinity, lying to the captain that I saw a sea witch. Not risking meeting one of those, the captain ordered to sail away.

As we were closer to Kalimdor, we noticed two doomguards in the sky desperately trying to catch up with the ship. Doomguards should be a pretty rare sight on this Azeroth, and everyone was surprised but I knew that Sargeras must have learned of my betrayal and sent his demonic servants to kill me. After some time, the doomguards finally landed on the ship and started killing goblins, but with the help of the ship’s captain, we managed to slay the demons and dump their bodies overboard. I hoped there would be no more surprises of this sort.

We reached Kalimdor safely the next day, in what we know as Dustwallow Marsh. I recognized the Theramore Isle nearby, but it did not bear that name in this timeline, and was full of murlocs. Is that what Jaina had to go through when she founded the city, murlocs? I do not envy her. Nevertheless, I continued on my way south towards Tanaris and was quickly reminded that black dragons are still a thing in that universe. I saw plenty of them soaring overhead in the Marsh, probably patrolling the area of Onyxia’s Lair. With her being a wife of Aliden Perenolde, who knows what’s going on in there. Hopefully not some ugly half-dragon babies. I don’t know if it was an entirely good idea, but I switched to moonkin form to pretend to be a night elf druid. Luckily, no dragon decided to take me for a snack.

When I left the Marsh and passed into what we know as Splithoof Heights, I found to my surprise a large Demon Hunter training facility, manned by night elves and tauren. I took this as a chance to find out the history of Kalimdor in this timeline and sought out their leader, Altruis the Sufferer. As it turns out, Kalimdor remained in peace for a few more years, until C’Thun broke out and his Qiraji and Silithids began to rampage throughout the continent. The night elves had a very tough fight on their hands and tauren were decimated by their fight with centaurs – Altruis never even heard the names Cairne or Baine, the tauren High Chieftain being Bovan Windtotem.

As Altruis related, Tyrande broke Illidan out of his prison. This time, he greatly helped the war and led many young demon hunters, some of them tauren, to victories against the Qiraji. However, their numbers were nearly endless and he had to look for a way to get rid of their god. Illidan then sought out the Oracle of Stonetalon and learned from her that the Scepter of the Shifting Sands contained a piece of C’Thun’s soul and as such, it could be used to slay him. Then Illidan embarked on a long quest to obtain the Scepter, and finally sneaked his way into the Temple of Ahn’Qiraj, defeated some of C’Thun’s top lieutenants, including General Rajaxx and the Twin Emperors, and proceeded to stab C’Thun in the eye with the Scepter. The resulting explosion killed them both and collapsed the temple. Without the leadership of their god, the Silithid armies quickly crumbled and the Kaldorei won the war.

Illidan is here lauded as a hero, and Demon Hunters are openly trained in many facilities across Kalimdor, including this one. Having satisfied my curiosity, I proceeded down, to the Thousand Needles, walking through its dry surface. You know what, I think they’re much nicer looking this way. All the water makes them look so mundane. Anyway, soon I had to walk through the Shimmering Flats, lacking a raceway here, and had the chance to complain about the dryness. I swear, all this salt was probably sucking water straight out of me. If that wasn’t enough, the next place on my journey was Tanaris.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long to reach Gadgetzan where I resupplied myself with water. It seems that one city is the same hive of scum and villainy in every timeline. The only difference I noticed was that Noggenfogger wasn’t the Baron, here still eking out a living as a small trader. Oh yeah, and there was no Thunderdrome. Probably not enough demand for gladiatorial fights without the Alliance and Horde going around. I continued through the desert and before long, I had Caverns of Time in my sight.

My true form immediately got the dragons’ attention and I was allowed an audience with Anachronos. Then they told me to wait for him for hours. You would think that if anything, time would be something the bronze dragons would have plenty of. Nevertheless, after the few hours have passed, Anachronos talked to me and after my explanations, agreed that it is for the best that I leave this timeline immediately. The bronze dragons then dug up a large ring-like device with many glyphs on its sides. When they activated it, images of multiple other realities started passing through and I was told to identify my native timeline. Here I saw a couple of interesting realities, but all in only brief flashes, until I finally saw a reality where Garrosh Hellscream was in chains, Vol’jin was the Warchief and Prince Anduin looked just like “mine”. After they locked on, I went through.

Unfortunately, I found myself in the very scene presented in the image, that is, inside Hellscream’s cell in Pandaria. Knowing that neither he nor the Shado-Pan would be very happy if they found me there, I had to pull some strings and got Wrathion to help me out a little. He sent a Blacktalon to get me out of there and told me there’s no price attached, but I’m afraid I’ll come to regret this. I went on to sleep at the Lorewalker Seat of Knowledge that day, knowing that I am finally safely back home.

After inspecting Lorewalker Cho’s projector and him rejecting my sale offer, I continued to the Shrine and went through the portal to Stormwind. Unfortunately, after I reached Maginor Dumas’s tower, I found that SI:7 has confiscated my rift while I was gone. I know that I was gone to another reality for a couple of weeks, but that’s no reason to steal a man’s work! I obviously investigated and Mathias Shaw himself told me that my rift was taken by an individual known as “Arcturus Mencius”. I probably owe you a bit of backstory on that. A week or so before this whole thing started, a guy called Arcturus Mengsk arrived from the Nexus via my rift. He immediately left and I didn’t think too much about it at the time, but it seems he installed himself as a human noble in Stormwind. And now stole my rift, along with all my equipment.

I couldn’t let it stand, but I couldn’t do it on my own either. So I conscripted another dubious ‘ally’ and contacted Sicco Thermaplugg for some help. His servant opened a portal for me and through came a couple of leper gnome warriors and a Crowd Pummeler. With their help, I was able to get through the defenses “Mencius” has set up in his manor and finally reached him. Can you imagine, he tried to bribe me in the very end. So I just shoved through the rift back to the Nexus. Let’s hope he enjoys fighting for the Arbiters. After getting my equipment away from the leper gnomes and sending Sicco a frequency to let him make another such rift of his own, everything was finally back in its proper place.

Except the whole thing where I was living in Stormwind and trying to figure out the whole temporal anomaly in Draenor. Could it be related to the thing I heard about Hellscream arriving from the future and changing Draenor’s past? Could the alternate Azeroth I was in be the result of the events that were about to happen here, including Garrosh’s escape? Perhaps. But perhaps it was yet another Garrosh that made all that mess. I’m certainly not going to damage another timeline by getting in the way of established events.

Hellfire has nothing on Westfall

I mean, Westfall is as dry as a bone. No, it’s drier than that. If I spit, it would probably dry out before it reached the ground. Even opening your eyes is unpleasant in this place. Who lead this place into this disastrous state? I heard this was once “the breadbasket of Stormwind”. Well, let me tell you, there’s no bread or baskets here now. Just dust, cold, dry air and dead grass. When you take a dictionary and check the definition of “agricultural or economic mismanagement”, there should be a picture of Westfall printed there. Even Hellfire, place in a scorching heat where ground itself is cracked and stripped to bedrock, didn’t feel as dry as this.