As I lay down my spear beside me and wash the blood from my armor I can not help but think back to the siege we have just undertaken. The war against the undead armies of Northrend has been long and troublesome. Many of my friends have fallen, protecting our freedom and lives. But tonight we repaid our debt to them. On this stormy night, me and my kinsmen charged our dragons deep into the heart of Naxxramas, the greatest Scourge keep outside of Icecrown. Here, many of the Lich Kings' commanders resided, and even one of his generals: the great Lich Kel'Thuzad.
It was Elothar, the druid, who summoned us all to this accursed castle. The warriors of Zenith soon assembled in full force, ready to storm the keep, or die trying.

As we started our assault on the Plague quarter, we were met by gargoyles, slimes and many more vile undead creatures. They seemed to have limitless numbers as we battled our way through their ranks. But then Grig, the Death Knight, halted our bold advance. His severed ties with the Lich King still allowed him to sense the most powerfull beings and now he felt one very close: "Noth the Plaguebringer", he said: "a powerfull necromancer is waiting for us. He knows we are here." He did not leave us much time, the old hatred he felt for this Scourge-minion had not lessened over time and so, his axe held high, Grig charged the necromancer. We all followed him into the fray, slaying his skeleton-soldiers whenever they rose again. Only after heavy fighting did we finally manage to put an end to this foul creature. As he fell, I saw a smile appear on Grig's face, the first I had ever seen.

As we set forth we ran into more undead forces but I shall not speak of every single battle for it would simply take too long and I yearn for some much-needed rest.
As we charged deeper into the undead citadel, we charged and killed many of Arthas' Lieutenants: Gothik the Harvester, who commanded an army of a thousand souls was slain under our spells and swords.

After him, many more were vanquished; their deaths allowing us acces into the very heart of the keep. This is where our greatest fears became reality: as we closed in on Kel'Thuzads' chambers, we were driven back by an incredible drop in temperature. Even in this frozen land, the change was frightening. As we all stood there, watching eachother, asking what this new evil was that had been called down upon us, the bones on the floor started to levitate. They seemed to be drawn by an invisible force. Then my eyes were blinded by a flash brighter then twenty suns.

When I regained my vision, I stood face to face with the legendary Sapphiron. The great dragon, turned by Arthas himself to serve him in death. Against this mighty foe, many would have fled. But not Zenith, with courage to warm our hearts we attacked the lord of all frostwyrms. He gave us hell from the ground and from the air but as one we held our ground. Our magic healing us through every blizzard he called down on us. Our swords and spells relentlessly harming him. Suddenly he gave a mighty roar as his last breath left him. The great bones came tumbling down, almost crushing us. But we were victorious once again, and now nothing stood between us and the Lich.

After quickly regaining our strength we made haste to the last chamber. Here, all would be decided. A fight to the death with the General of the Scourge armies. As we burst into the room he was allready awaiting us, thousands of scourge all around; it was a trap. They closed in on us from all sides, no escape, only death or victory remained. Under the warcry of the horde "Loktar O'gar" we started slaying the wretches, countless fell under my spear. When Kel'Thuzad saw that his armies would not hold, he came at us himself. Throwing all his magic into the battle. Quickly Cyanide rushed in to protect the rest of us from the heavy blows. But he was allready exhausted from the blows dealt by Sapphiron, I watched him fall. But there was no sadness in my heart, for it was a good death, worthy of a warrior of Zenith.

The fight raged on however, Grig now threw himself on the Lich, taking over from the fallen Cyanide. Everyone was now fighting with a vengeance, spells and weapons flashed, but the day was not yet won. The Undead claimed another one of us: the Warlock Edhunt was slain as well. But as we were weakened by number, our will grew even stronger and it was not long untill our two comrades were avenged. Kel'Thuzad was vanquished and the Lich King was dealt a mighty blow.

As we celebrated our victory in the throneroom, there still remained a chill in my heart. Not for our fallen, their names will echo on through eternity, but because I did not know what great evil would claim this throne after we had left it... I had a slight feeling though . . .

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Recorded by the scribe Asathor in the Zenith chronicles.

It was a cold night in the frozen land of Northrend when the call of war came. Malygos, the Spellweaver himself had turned on his own kin. The Blue Dragonflight had started attacking Alexstraza's Brood and The Red Dragonflight had no choice but to call upon its strongest heroes once again. It was Legionnaire Tonrar, our shaman-chieftain, who heard it first. He soon rallied the full force of Zenith to aid The Life-binder in her struggle. As always, the loyal troops gave heed to the call and assembled near Malygos' stronghold 'The Nexus'. It was from here that we portalled into his domain, a void beyond imagining. Bristling with arcane power.

It was there that we first gazed into the unforgiving eyes of our enemy: the great dragonlord: Malygos. This was not the first dragon we had faced, but still, the very memory of him still makes my skin crawl. His claws were bigger then a Tauren and as sharp as my spear. The immense power he wielded over the arcane was felt all around. This was truly a being of overwhelming power...

With the paladin Vulture to command us, and the warrior Cyanide to lead the charge, we attacked this mighty foe. The clash of bone on shields and metal on scales was maddening. I often feared for my life but just when my many wounds were about to take their ultimate toll, I felt the life in me rekindled by the touch of our healers. Malygos tried to enhance his strength by devouring orbs of pure arcane magic, but through our own magic, we used his allies against him. We grew stronger with every orb that exploded, pervading us with pure power. He tried to throw us out into the neverending void of his domain, but by sheer will we were able to hold on, and keep fighting.

Malygos soon saw the futility of his efforts. His body was covered in cuts and magical burns when he suddenly burst into the air, sending down deadly torrents of arcane bombs. His minions joined the fray as well, my own race, I am ashamed to say, charged us. They came flying from the heavens on platforms, some bombarding us from up high, others, more foolishly, attacked us head on. Cyanide once again drew their attention with his shield while our casters and gunners shot them down without pity or remorse. At the same time; myself, Tonrar and Grig used their platforms to take the fight to the flying casters. With some help from our ranged forces on the ground, these were sent screaming to the underworld as well. A glorious sight and a true testament to the power of Zenith.

With his lieutenants down, the Spellweaver did the unthinkable. He tore apart the very ground on which we stood. He destroyed his own world just to bring us down. We started to fall, the endless fall through the void.
But then; from the darkness came a call. The army of the Red Dragonqueen had broken through Malygos' defenses and came to our aid. They carried us back from the emptiness to finish what we had come to do. The Lord of the Blue Flight burst into a deadly rage, he gave everything he had.

His magic almost tore us apart but we stood united against him. Many fell as their dragons were killed or as they themselves were cut down. The fight was long and hard; with his last powers, Malygos went into a berserker rage, pushing us to the last bit of our strength. Only me and Vulture were still standing when finally the mighty Dragonlord fell. His body disintegrated into raw energy. Wounds and weariness then took their toll on both of us: we fell from our dragons and the darkness embraced me.

What exactly brought us back from the vastness of eternity I can not say. But I do know that it was due to the Lifebinder. I like to believe she found us worthy enough to use Malygos' essence to bring us back to the world of the living, however I can never be sure of this.

Still somewhat stunned from our victory, downfall and rebirth, we left the Spellweaver's realm for good. The Red Flight could now begin their cleansing. With the great Nexus-War finally over, Azeroth can rest in peace again.

Another great victory has been won for Zenith. I hope, should the story of this epic battle ever reach our old Warlord, that he would be proud of his Troops, and remember us... one last time.

---

Recorded by the scribe Asathor.

---

With pride I scanned the message da runner brung me as I sat on dat steps of Zul Aman where I is helpin my brothers finally rinse the stench of Zul'Jin from their ancestral home. You have won a great victory for all living peoples and as I hear da name of Zenith on da wind - a smile splits my face as I recall our times together my friends.

Angkalid (da old boss)

I knew that something of great importance was ahoof the moment word reached me that the elders, on orders from Cairne Bloodhoof, had called for a gathering of the tribes. Five years had passed since the last gathering, to sanction alliance with the Orc leader Thrall. Since then, a lifetime of events has occurred. The third war over, our people resettled in Mulgore without fear of threat from the Centaurs and the mighty city of Orgrimmar overseeing an unsteady peace across our lands like a warm kodo hide blanket. The Earthmother had been left to work her ways in repairing the land. Yet, an unsteady peace…

It was with great anticipation I travelled back from the Outlands, first through Orgrimmar and then on through the vast Barrens plains with memories of my first forays into adulthood flooding back to me. I was anxious to make time and thghout to cut through the plains but had picked up news in Orgrimmar that the Centaurs still held camps around the Barrens lush oasis and that it was safer to stick to the well trodden roads.

It was as well, for even travelling fast and without hindrance I was unprepared for the heat and burdens of constant travelling. Perhaps I have gained too much girth through Netherdrake riding and nights on Figluster’s Mudfish, but that’s another story. As night fell, the smell of the Mulgore plains began to grow stronger and I drew into Camp Taurajo with little thought but to rest for the final stage of my journey. Well, that was until I met Krulmoo Fullmoon, my old leatherworking trainer. He slapped me on the back as I walked into the inn.

“Foreeeeest…”, I turned and embraced my old mentor. He showed little signs of the troubles that had passed over the years and his talk was still of the mighty feats of strength and endurance that he had undergone to master his trade. We soon settled down to laugh and reminisce about our skinning trips in less troubled times. I was also in luck, my first batch from the “Brew of the month club” had just arrived in the mail and we took advantage of the delights of a few bottles of “Autumnal Acorn Ale”. We made room at our table for fellow Tauren travelers and called over to Cheeselog, Tonrar, Angora and Cylandra, blood brothers and sister who had travelled for the gathering. Many more were also on their way.

Ooooh, perhaps Autumnal means that you don’t surface until next Autumn!

That’s the way I felt when I first raised myself the next morning but I had to move quickly as the sun was already high in the clear sky. Walking out, Sneaker jumped to my side. I’d left my kodo grazing on the plains and called him, re-checked his harness and packed before saying my farewells to Krulmoo. He was upset to be missing the gathering, but a presence at Camp Taurajo had to be maintained.

A vast train of people, mounts and caravans were already following the trail to Thunderbluff. Mounting, I joined them and following the long road West, and turned North as we passed Bloodhoof village. A vast crowd of Tauren had gathered at the edge of the village and road to watch the procession. Occasionally, someone would peel off from the road to be surrounded by family and tribe members.

There would be much happiness and rejoicing through the night. Bloodhoof to our backs, Thunderbluff began to appear through the hazy skyline in front of us and with it, the sounds of a great activity and buzzing began to reach our ears. The Darkmoon faire were in place at the foot of the bluff, and a great field of tents and huts had been set up around the outer edges of the bluff itself.

We had no time to enjoy the events. Word quickly passed that Cairne was about to speak and there was a great rush to the lifts with Kodo’s being abandoned in the valleys. I reached the top level quickly and was able to find space close to Cairne himself and could hear him clearly.

He started slowly, but with great weight, and described events that had come to his ears from the other side of the world.

“In times past a great plague had infected the humankind, who had then turned on their former kin, friends and neighbors. The Scourge was born of human flesh.

“He was transformed under his enemies control as a Death Knight and led the scourge into further atrocities in Lordaeron under the Lich Kings control and finally killing his own father, King Terenas”.

Until then, the gathering had been silently listening with great intent at the words that Cairne Bloodhoof was uttering. A single, united groan and murmuring passed through the assembled mass on hearing the final corruption of the human Prince. Cairne held his hand high to silence the gathering… and continued.

“The taking of Frostmourne by the Prince Death Night had caused the Lich King’s power to wane. The strongest of the undead were able to shake free the plague and rebel. Now, led by Sylvanas, the forsaken had fought back and claimed the ruined city of Lordaeron as their own and vowed to fight the scourge. To further this goal, they had declared allegiance to the Horde and started to advance towards their prey”.

Again a great murmuring went through the assembled house, in deep unison hundred’s of Tauren cried “For the Horde…”. the sound travelling along the bluffs and down into the valley below, scattering critters and creatures as it dissipated into the valleys.

“The Prince Death Night, Arthas, was forced to return to Northrend to defend his ‘Lich King’”, Cairne spat as he said the words.

“With Frostmourne at his side, he released the ice and the shackles holding the “King” to his frozen throne. In this moment, the former king and Arthus BECAME ONE…”, Cairne’s voice increased in volume, trembling in anger as he spoke.

“THE LICH KING is still at large and unbound, free to express his untold power and hatred for the living …..AND HE MUST BE DESTROYED”

Another great roar flew up from the assembled house “FOR THE HORDE…”

Cairnes voice changed from that of storyteller, to that of leader and commander and issued direct commands to his assembled followers.

“Undead Scourge, Abominations and Frostwyrms are attacking our major cities.

“Go now!!!!!!!!”

As told by Foresthunter

Seems like some fun has been had while i was away - Snikks takes up the story

As I wearily let my shield drop, I surveyed the land before me.

It was heaped with the mangled, seared, and frozen bodies of the undead legion that had unwisely decided to wage battle with Zenith. As they charged over the hill they had encountered my immoveable shield, and the holy magic that I wield. Focussing their attacks upon me, my brothers and sisters in arms were able to assault them from afar with powerful sorcery, or fall upon them and unleash their brutality, rage and savagery.

Despite the halt of the first wave, they continued to assault us, wave after wave of ghouls, abominations, crypt fiends, and necromancers. Everything the dread lich Rage Winterchill could summon in his futile attempts to wear down and annihilate us and our allies.

Finally, the lich himself assaulted us, spreading death and decay by virtue of his mere presence, and launching bolts of ice that speared through our bodies and left freezing agony behind. Lady Jaina herself joined the fray alongside us, launching her fury at the undead sorcerer, as he belittled our efforts in his tortured voice.

Finally, Zenith and our allies prevailed even versus this mighty foe, and as he sank to the floor I considered, true men and women are not measured by the forces they wield for healing or destruction, the strength of their shield, or the damage their weapons can do. They are measured by the strength of their dedication to their comrades.

I almost felt pity for the evil beings in our future. They have no strength to match what we have shown thus far.

Snikks

After a few days away visiting parts of da world i haven't seen and practicin my fishin I came bak to da troops very well rested. Good job to as no sooner had I said hello dat it was decided dat da firey bird called Alar was in da way of us visitin Kael in da Eye of Tempest Keep.

Once we got der Cyanide shot at him to get his attention... that worked! He kept moving around da room, pickin different people to unleash his wrath on while smaller phoenixes plagued our healers. We soon had dis sorted out when from nowhere he dived on us.

Da big fire god was no match for us and we soon had him down to a pile of ash, but more smaller fire birds kept appearin and damn me... he kept resurectin from da ashes. Dis went on for some time but once he'd done it a few times Zenith had his measure and soon all that was left was a very, very hot corpse.