The Journal of Mal’koreth Cinderstorm
Records from the Draenor Campaign
Entry 1 – Sixth Moon, Late Autumn
The world has gone mad. First, news that Garrosh somehow escaped from captivity – apparently with the help of a Bronze Dragon, of all things. The bastard fled into the past itself, which should have been the end of it. Instead, it’s become the beginning of something far worse.
Reports are coming in from the Blasted Lands about massive military buildup around the Dark Portal. Not the dead, shattered gateway we’ve known for years, but something active. Functional. And what’s pouring through isn’t what we expected.
Khadgar – the mage from the old Alliance expedition to Outland – arrived in Orgrimmar today with intelligence that defies belief. The forces gathering beyond the portal aren’t demons or undead. They’re orcs. But not our orcs. Orcs from another world, another timeline where they never drank demon blood, never came to Azeroth, never became the Horde we know.
The Iron Horde, he calls them. Led by a version of Grommash Hellscream who rejected Mannoroth’s gift and united his people through conquest rather than corruption. Somehow, Garrosh reached them in the past and convinced them that our Azeroth is ripe for conquest.
Vol’jin has been in emergency sessions with the other racial leaders for three days straight. Word is they’re planning a preemptive strike – sending a force through the portal before this Iron Horde can establish a stronger foothold in our world.
It’s bold. Desperate. Exactly the kind of mission that gets people killed.
I’ve been keeping my head down, maintaining my usual low profile. But something tells me that’s about to change.
Entry 2 – Seventh Moon, Early Winter
Ariok found me today.
I was reviewing supply manifests in one of the quieter corners of Orgrimmar when a familiar voice called my name. Turned around to see my old partner from Silverpine, now wearing lieutenant’s insignia and looking every bit the seasoned officer he’d become.
“Brother,” he said, gripping my shoulder. “I was hoping I’d find you here.”
We talked for hours. About Silverpine, about the paths our lives had taken since, about this new threat facing Azeroth. He’s been assigned to lead one of the assault units for the Iron Vanguard – the expedition force that will spearhead the attack on this alternate Draenor.
“I need someone I can trust at my side,” he said finally. “Someone who understands unconventional warfare, who can adapt when the situation goes to hell. The kind of partner who watches your back no matter what.”
I could have said no. Should have, maybe. My arrangement with Sylvanas works best when I remain nameless. But looking at Ariok, remembering what we’d accomplished together…
“When do we leave?” I asked.
His grin was answer enough.
The Iron Vanguard ships out in two weeks. Time to see what this other Draenor looks like, and whether the bonds forged in Silverpine will hold against whatever we find there.
It feels good to be fighting alongside a brother again.
Entry 3 – Seventh Moon, Late Winter
The assault on Tanaan Jungle was chaos from the moment we set foot on alien soil.
Everything Khadgar had warned us about was true, and worse. The Iron Horde wasn’t just organized – they were ready for us. Fortified positions, coordinated defenses, weapons that could punch through our best armor like parchment. We didn’t exactly expect a scattered resistance, but this was a disciplined army that had been preparing for exactly this kind of invasion.
Ariok and I fought side by side through the initial landings, carving a path through Iron Horde positions with the same coordination we’d developed years ago. Earth tremors to disrupt their formations, followed by his charge to exploit the openings. It worked, but barely. For every position we took, they had two more waiting.
Finally, someone figured out what was powering the portal and got it shut down. A Good start. For now, nothing could get out of, or back into, Draenor. But Khadgar had told us that we needed to DESTROY this new Dark Portal if we truly wanted to thwart this invasion.
The Vanguard regrouped, we started moving through the Jungle. The plan, which we’d come up with on the fly, was to find positions to hold up in periodically and re-asses the situation, repeating until we found a way to destroy the portal. It wasn’t a GREAT plan, but we hadn’t been given an opportunity to scout the surroundings before launching our assault. So we pressed on.
Then we encountered The Bleeding Hollow clan.
They were performing some kind of blood ritual to turn their shock troops into hulking monstrosities. Their Ziggurat was between us and the path forward. The numbers were actually quite small. Ariok volunteered for us to take them down while the remaining forces snuck by. I didn’t hesitate. “You and me against an entire clan? I like those odds”. That’s what he said to me.
As we began to disrupt the ritual and take down the Bleeding Hollow Orcs, we saw our forces slipping by. Unfortunately, so did Kilrogg – the clan leader. He laughed, a menacing laugh the likes of which I’ve never heard before. It chilled me to my core. But not because I feared him – No, I think I knew in my heart that this timing was worse than we could have ever feared and things were about to go south.
As we stood atop the Ziggurat staring at the Clan of orcs that just emerged from the Ridge to our south, And as our forces moved through the jungle to the north, Ariok and I both knew that this was a dire situation.
And Atop this Ziggurat, Ariok made his choice.
“I know what I must do.” It was a simple sentence. It cut through the din of battle. It felt like minutes but I’m sure it was only seconds. He didn’t even look at me. I think he was afraid I was getting ready to make the same choice. He always thought too highly of me.
“BLOOD AND HONOR!”
My body stood frozen as I watched him leap from the Ziggurat and into the blood ritual below. The transformation was horrible and magnificent. Ariok’s body swelled, muscles expanding, bones lengthening, until he stood twice his normal height and radiated power that made the air itself tremble. When he charged Kilrog’s position, the impact shook the ground for miles.
“GO!” he roared, grappling with the Bleeding Hollow Orcs. “Find Khadgar!”
I ran. Because that’s what he’d ordered me to do, because the mission mattered more than my desire to stand and die beside him, because sometimes the hardest choice is living when your brother might not.
Found the mage on the other side of the bridge, rallying the scattered remnants of our forces. I wanted to go back for Ariok, but Khadgar destroyed the bridge to prevent us from being followed.
The rest of the assault is a bit of a blur to me. I followed orders from Khadgar and Thrall blindly. Now I’m in the territory of the old Frostwolf clan. All I can think about is that final scene of Ariok fighting for the Horde.
I don’t know if he’s alive or dead. But I’m going to find out.
This world took my brother. Time to see what else it’s willing to lose.
[Draenor campaign continues…]
Warcraft Stories 
Leave a comment