For now, the Lich King focused his attention on other things. Trapped in the Frozen Throne, he needed a way to extend his will to the outside world. He had full control over undead creatures, but their strength came in numbers. Individually, they were weak, mindless things. There was Kel’Thuzad, but the necromancer served a very specific purpose, leading the Cult of the Damned. The Lich King sought something else—something more. A mighty champion who would act as his direct surrogate beyond the Frozen Throne.
The Lich King did not yet know who this surrogate would be, but he did know how he would create his servant. The key lay within his icy prison. Frostmourne. It was a fearsome weapon, capable of consuming souls. If someone were to take up the blade, it would shackle them to the Lich King’s will.
Yet the dreadlords would never allow the Lich King to create this new servant on his own. He had to make the demons believe it was in the Legion’s best interest.
Over the years, the Lich King had discovered what the dreadlords feared most: Kil’jaeden. If the plague failed, the demon lord would punish them. The Lich King used this knowledge to his advantage. He played on the dreadlords’ fears and gradually convinced them that finding other mortal champions like Kel’Thuzad was the key to victory. The Lich King’s overtures were subtle and strategic; he made the demons believe that locating a new servant and arming them with Frostmourne was their idea.
Only Kel’Thuzad was privy to the Lich King’s true intentions. The entity had revealed to the necromancer that the Legion was behind the plague of undeath, but Kel’Thuzad remained firm in his allegiance. He secretly promised to rebel against the demons in the future.
With the dreadlords’ approval, the Lich King moved forward with his plan. He channeled his power within the Frozen Throne and broke away a chunk of ice containing Frostmourne. The blade fell to the base of Icecrown Glacier, where it would await its victim.
All that remained was for the Lich King to find him.
ARCHIMONDE ASSAULTS NORDRASSIL AT THE BATTLE OF MOUNT HYJAL
In Lordaeron, the plague of undeath continued to spread. Healing salves and potions had little effect on the disease. Not even local priests could ease the victims’ suffering with holy magic unless they treated the infection in its earliest stages. Reports of the plague soon reached Lordaeron’s capital, but no one knew what to make of them. Disease was not rare, especially in the wake of the Second War. Lordaeron’s population had suffered through many bouts of famine and sickness.
King Terenas Menethil II demanded more information before he would commit resources to investigating the plague. He was loath to send soldiers to quarantine villages when there were liberated orcs on the loose in other areas of the kingdom. In his eyes, the Horde was the more immediate danger.
The plague soon claimed its first lives in Lordaeron. Friends and family grieved over the victims, unaware that it would not be the last time they would see their loved ones. Had death been the end, it would have been a mercy. The number of deaths increased, and reports of strange occurrences spread to the far corners of Lordaeron. Some said that the bodies of plague victims were disappearing overnight. Others claimed that the dead were rising from their graves as mindless walking corpses.
Though these tales seemed outlandish, they were true. The final symptom of the plague was taking effect. Victims were rising into undeath as zombies, enslaved to the Lich King’s will.
Kel’Thuzad watched the Eastweald’s doom unfold with cold approval. He believed he had sacrificed more than most to bring the Lich King’s grand designs to fruition. A fearsome army was forming before his eyes, one composed of undead minions and the Cult of the Damned’s fanatical members. Kel’Thuzad named this force the Scourge, for it would act as the flail with which the Lich King would scour the whole of Lordaeron and bring humanity to its knees.
In the months ahead, the name Scourge would come to define all who served the Lich King.
The plague of undeath was spreading much faster than Medivh had anticipated. Though it was difficult to admit, he knew that he could not save those who had contracted the disease. There was no time. The true threat to Azeroth was the Legion’s plan to harness the second Well of Eternity. Medivh needed to focus every resource he could muster on protecting the fount of power, even if it meant abandoning Lordaeron to the ravages of the plague.
Medivh decided to gather as many of Lordaeron’s unaffected citizens as possible and guide them to the second Well of Eternity. He channeled his lingering Guardian powers and reached out to influential individuals across the region. Some he visited in dreams, appearing as a raven. Others he met in person, taking on the form of a hooded figure known only as “the Prophet.” To all, he offered a dire warning: they must depart the Eastern Kingdoms and journey west to the ancient lands of Kalimdor, or else the entire world would fall to ruin. Medivh never revealed his true identity. Those who recognized his name would know him as a villain, the sinister mage who had brought the Horde to Azeroth.
Two of the most influential humans Medivh approached were Lordaeron’s king, Terenas Menethil II, and the ruler of Dalaran, Archmage Antonidas. Neither of them paid heed to the Prophet’s warning.
For Terenas II, the liberated orcs remained a constant thorn in his side. The other Alliance nations were up in arms about the prospect of their great enemies freely roaming the countryside. Terenas had dispatched his military forces, including the holy paladins, to defeat the orcs. He considered Medivh’s words little more than the ravings of a madman.
Antonidas had other reasons for dismissing Medivh. He and his magi had learned of the mysterious plague spreading across the Eastweald. Unlike Terenas, they were deeply concerned about reports of this mounting epidemic. Antonidas theorized that the plague was magical in nature, but only evidence could confirm his beliefs. He sent his most promising student, the sorceress Jaina Proudmoore, to observe and gather information about the outbreak.
Medivh had little success with the humans, but he did find hope among the orcs. The irony wasn’t lost on the former Guardian. The bloodthirsty savages who had invaded Azeroth and almost ruined the world might be the very creatures who would save it from destruction.
The new Horde faced an uncertain future.
Warchief Thrall had liberated many of his people from the internment camps, but they were without a home. They lived as nomads, seeking out other orcs in Lordaeron and the surrounding lands while constantly moving to avoid human military forces. Another war with the Alliance seemed all but inevitable.
The orcs looked to Thrall for answers, but he had none. Worry gnawed at his thoughts, and nightmares plagued his sleep. Night after night, he envisioned the orcs falling to the Alliance in a brutal battle. He saw his people once again herded into prison camps and left to waste away.
It was in this time of uncertainty that Medivh visited Thrall. He told the orc of a dark storm approaching Azeroth, a demonic invasion that would reduce all civilizations to ash. Medivh said that the only way for Thrall to stop the Burning Legion was to set out across the Great Sea, to a land known as Kalimdor.
The encounter with Medivh deeply troubled Thrall. Though he was too young to remember when the Legion had enslaved his people, he knew of demons. Older orcs like Orgrim Doomhammer and Grommash Hellscream had told him stories about how the Legion had nearly destroyed their race. Thrall feared that if he did not make a stand against the demons, the orcs might once again fall into slavery or suffer an even worse fate.
But Thrall was hesitant to put his trust in a stranger. He consulted the elemental spirits of fire, earth, air, and water for answers. Their response was urgent and immediate: trust the stranger. For a shaman like Thrall, that was all the assurance he needed.
Thrall hid nothing from his people. He told them of the journey that lay ahead and the enemy they would face. Many orcs were wary of embarking into the unknown, but they trusted their warc
hief. If not for him, they would all still be languishing in prison camps.
Thrall rallied the new Horde and set out to find a way across the sea.
Though the Horde was still roaming Lordaeron’s countryside, Terenas Menethil could no longer ignore the plague. He knew that the Kirin Tor was sending the sorceress Jaina Proudmoore to investigate the disease, and he thought it would be wise to aid her. The king dispatched envoys led by his own son, Arthas Menethil. They would accompany Jaina and search for the plague’s source together. With any luck, they would find a way to stop the disease from spreading further.
Despite the grim circumstances, Arthas and Jaina looked forward to spending time together. They had ended their romantic relationship, but they still harbored feelings for each other. They didn’t yet know that this quest would destroy what remained of their youthful innocence and change them both forever.
Crossing into the Eastweald was like stepping through a portal into another world. Gone was the tranquility that the region had once enjoyed. A shadow had crept over the land, bringing fear and paranoia. Arthas was heartbroken by the suffering he witnessed. These were his people, and protecting them was his responsibility. If he failed, what kind of ruler would that make him? He vowed to do whatever he could to deliver his people from doom.
From the outset, Arthas had little success. He called on his powers to cleanse the plague-stricken victims he met, but the Holy Light was largely ineffective and unreliable. For many of these poor souls, Arthas could do little else but offer words of reassurance that he would end the plague.
As time passed, Arthas and Jaina unraveled one mystery after another concerning the plague, and each revelation was more troubling than the last. The affliction was being transmitted across the region through grain shipments from Andorhal. Even more unsettling was the discovery that the plague didn’t simply kill its victims; it raised them into undeath and turned them into shambling corpses.
Arthas and Jaina saw these monstrosities firsthand. They were forced to fight their way through the tide of walking corpses that surged over the countryside.
None of this was happening by chance. A human cult led by Kel’Thuzad was responsible for the plague’s spread, and they had an army of undead at their command. An army called the Scourge.
Discovering that humans were behind the plague stoked the fires of Arthas’s rage. He channeled his fury into the quest to hunt down Kel’Thuzad and his followers, eager to make them pay for the innocent lives they had destroyed.
In Andorhal, Arthas Menethil would have his chance.
Through the eyes of his Scourge minions, the Lich King had been watching Arthas. The young human intrigued him. He was a natural leader, charismatic and confident. Judging by the mounds of undead the prince left in his wake, the Lich King knew that Arthas Menethil was also a gifted fighter and tactician. Most importantly, his anger and desperation were slowly consuming his mind.
Once again, the Lich King subtly manipulated the dreadlords and drew their attention to Arthas. They saw him as the perfect champion to corrupt, but luring him to Frostmourne in Northrend would be no easy task. The young human had just started down his path of self-destruction. The Lich King and the dreadlords would need to guide him the rest of the way.
The demons crafted a plan based on the Lich King’s advice. They commanded Kel’Thuzad to face Arthas in battle and reveal that he was merely a servant of a higher power: the dreadlord Mal’Ganis, who lurked in the holy city of Stratholme. It wouldn’t be enough for Kel’Thuzad to tell Arthas this information; he would need to give his life in the process. Only with the necromancer dead would the prince then focus his attention on reaching Stratholme and vanquishing Mal’Ganis.
Stratholme was chosen for specific reasons. It was heavily populated, and it was the region’s most important city, strategically and economically. It was also a holy site, the birthplace of the paladin order. If Stratholme fell to the plague and became overrun by undead, it would be disastrous. Lordaeron would lose control of the Eastweald.
When Arthas arrived in Andorhal, Kel’Thuzad did not flee. He knew the Lich King would raise him as an undead creature more powerful than he could imagine. He faced the prince in battle and revealed Mal’Ganis’s presence in Stratholme.
Just as planned, Arthas Menethil unleashed his fury on Kel’Thuzad and crushed the life from the necromancer. He then set out to save Stratholme, even more desperate and unhinged than before.
As the days wore on, Jaina Proudmoore noticed a change in Arthas Menethil. Hate dominated his thoughts. He pushed Jaina and his soldiers to the breaking point, forcing them onward and giving them little time to rest. Though the sorceress wanted to stop the plague just as much as Arthas did, she feared that the quest was taking a heavy toll on his psyche.
She urged him to show restraint, but her words fell on deaf ears. The prince would not rest until his people were safe.
En route to Stratholme, Arthas and Jaina were joined by the one person in Lordaeron who had the power to talk some sense into the prince: Uther the Lightbringer.
Uther was a renowned paladin and a founding member of the Order of the Silver Hand. At King Terenas Menethil II’s behest, he had trained Arthas to become a holy warrior. Uther demanded much of the prince, but only because he saw greatness in the boy. As time passed, he’d even begun to see him as a son, and he considered Arthas’s well-being his responsibility.
When Uther joined Arthas on his quest, he sensed that something was amiss with the young paladin, but it did not concern him. He knew the prince could be headstrong at times. Arthas simply wanted to do what was best for his people, and Uther believed he would come to his senses.
At Stratholme, Uther discovered how wrong he was. The citizens had already received and consumed tainted grain from Andorhal. Their fate was sealed. It was only a matter of time before the plague transformed them into mindless undead.
Arthas believed there was only one way to prevent Stratholme from becoming a bastion of the Scourge. He ordered his comrades to purge the entire city before its inhabitants succumbed. For Arthas, this was as much an act of mercy as it was a strategic decision. If the people of Stratholme knew they were about to turn into undead monsters that would attack everything and everyone they had loved in life, what would they prefer? If Arthas had contracted the plague, he would rather die a clean death as a free-willed human than allow the affliction to raise him from the grave as a walking corpse.
Some of the prince’s allies obeyed his order. Many did not. Uther and the paladins under his command were disgusted at the thought of killing innocents. They would take no part. Their disobedience only pushed Arthas to even darker extremes. He turned his back on the other paladins, calling their refusal an act of treason.
Arthas called on Jaina to join him, but she also refused. She could not bear to see the prince commit such an atrocity. Along with Uther and the paladins, she left the prince to his grim work.
Arthas and his loyalists swept through Stratholme, and the killing commenced. Fire engulfed the city, and a storm of ash and ember billowed through the streets. Screams cut like daggers through the air. The blood of innocents ran thick along the cobblestones.
Amid the carnage, Arthas found Mal’Ganis. The dreadlord was eager to destroy the human, but that was not his purpose. He issued a challenge to the prince: come to Northrend and face him in a true battle. Then Mal’Ganis shrouded himself in magic and vanished from the city.
Arthas wasted no time in following. He believed if he could vanquish the dreadlord, he could shatter the Scourge and stop the plague of undeath forever. While fire still licked at the ruins of Stratholme, he gathered his followers and set sail for the frozen continent of Northrend.
Days later, Jaina and Uther returned to Stratholme. Much of the city was burned to a husk. Bodies littered the streets. It was even worse than what they had expected.
PRINCE ARTHAS MENETHIL IN STRATHOLME
As she looked over the ruins, Jaina cursed herself for not doing something to prevent the carnage. She could have used her magic to restrain Arthas, but she didn’t. Her inaction had allowed the prince to commit an act that would haunt him for the rest of his days. And her own regret would weigh on Jaina in the years ahead.
Jaina Proudmoore and Uther the Lightbringer went their separate ways. The paladin journeyed to Lordaeron’s capital to inform King Terenas Menethil II of what his son had done. Meanwhile, Jaina set out for Dalaran to report back to Antonidas about the plague.
Neither Jaina nor Uther knew that the next time they encountered Arthas Menethil, the prince they had known and cared for would be gone.
The Culling of Stratholme was the point of no return for Prince Arthas Menethil. His heart had darkened, and his sanity was unraveling. He was almost ready to become the Lich King’s greatest servant. Almost.
First, Arthas needed to find the cursed runeblade Frostmourne. The Scourge couldn’t simply lead him to it. That would make the prince suspicious.
The Lich King turned his attention to dwarf explorers who were trekking across Northrend. Led by the great warrior Muradin Bronzebeard, they had come from the mountain city of Ironforge in search of ancient artifacts. During Arthas’s youth, Muradin had served as ambassador to Lordaeron, and he had trained the human in martial combat. He would be the perfect messenger to inform Arthas of Frostmourne.
With the Lich King’s guidance, Mal’Ganis and the other dreadlords manipulated the dwarves. The demons secretly planted clues about Frostmourne and its location in the explorers’ encampment, including maps and ancient histories that spoke of a legendary runeblade. None of the dwarves could remember where this information had come from. They assumed that they hadn’t noticed it before. The runeblade intrigued Muradin, and the dwarves set out to find it.
World of Warcraft Chronicle Volume 3 Page 5