Cataclysm

The ground shook. Shuddered. Snow drifted from it’s tenuous perch on branches and the cliff above him. Telinthos cautiously glanced up, shifting his feet ready to run.

To hell with these earthquakes.

Finding no excuse to flee, Telinthos continued scanning the valley below him. He watched carefully, invisibly, as Gnomish troops gathered in tidy regimented lines and assaulted their subterranean lair.

Now what could warrant such devoted attention. He wondered, watching as time and again their lines attacked and retreated, like ocean waves.

The ground shook again. Snow fell in larger clumps, trees swayed. Telinthos deftly pulled his rolled up carpet from his pack and took to the air. Below him the ground rocked and nearby, Black Rock Mountain erupted, spewing liquid hot magma into the air.

A deafening roar filled the air. A massive shadow unlike anything seen in a thousand years took to the air.

By the heavens, Silvermoon must know what I have seen.

Telinthos landed a short distance away, on the first stable piece of land he could find. The shaking had knocked loose years of snow and ice, showering the valleys in avalanche while the eruption was spewing ash and fire everywhere else. He intoned the words necessary, keys to reality and opened a portal to Silvermoon and stepped through, sealing the hole behind him.

Elder and student magi standing around him were shocked by his sudden appearance and the chill wind that followed his footsteps as the portal sealed behind him. Gathering his wits about him, Telinthos marched from the Arcane Library to the Palace chambers, down the hall a short distance. Two guards lowered their spears, barring his passage.

“Regent Theron is in Council and cannot be disturbed.”

“I must speak with the Regent immediately. I have urgent news that cannot wait.”

“You must wa-” the guards words were cut off. Telinthos, short on patience, waved his hand and a pulse of energy knocked the guards aside.

Telinthos regained his stride as he marched into the Council chamber.

Lor’themar Theron, Regent Lord of the Blood Elves and ruler of Silvermoon City stood in meeting with a Troll liaison from Orgrimmar. Regent Theron turned, a scowl building on his face. “What?” his voice deep with ire.

“Regent Lord, my apologies. I have news from Black Rock Mountain. A dragon of immense size has emerged from deep below ground. I believe Deathwing has returned.”

Lor’themar stood. His face an unreadable wall of calm. “Very well. Please depart.” and turned back to the Troll standing with him.

Telinthos walked back down the hallway into Silvermoon City. The fools will likely fail to act and we will lose everything. Again. Glancing around Silvermoon one last time, Telinthos unfurled his carpet and took to the air.

Cataclysm