World of Warcraft
Alliance and the Horde were still not formed, and the names of heroes were still not carved into the statues of Stormwind. There was only a quiet, insidious whisper in the dark beyond that set off these events. The First War is a defining conflict that serves as a grim, and new starting point for the history of Azeroth. It begins with a cosmic betrayal, demonic blood, and the fall of a noble people on a world far beyond the stars.
As visceral hatred and the desperate need for survival fueled the Orcs for their upcoming bloodbath with the still-unaware Humans, a malevolent gaze circled across the Twisting Nether to the doomed, red-skied world of Draenor.
The Shamanistic Roots of Draenor
Before they were known as the fearsome, green-skinned conquerors of the Horde, the Orcs were a deeply spiritual and shamanistic people. They lived on the harsh, primal world of Draenor, divided into numerous distinct clans such as the Frostwolves, the Blackrocks, and the Warsong. They revered the elements, honored their ancestors, and lived in relative, albeit rugged, harmony with their world. They shared Draenor with the Draenei, a highly advanced and enigmatic race of exiles who had crash-landed on the planet centuries prior. For generations, the Orcs and the Draenei kept a respectful distance, trading occasionally but largely ignoring one another.
The presence of the Draenei on this world was a beacon in the cosmic dark. They were being hunted by the Burning Legion, a vast, infinite army of demons intent on consuming all life in the universe. Specifically, they were hunted by Kil’jaeden the Deceiver, a demonic lord of immense power. When Kil’jaeden finally discovered the Draenei hiding on Draenor, he did not immediately send an army to annihilate them. There was a far more cruel and poetic method of execution: he would turn the Draenei’s peaceful neighbors, the Orcs, into the instruments of their destruction.
Whispers of the Deceiver and Seeds of the First War
Kil’jaeden’s manipulation began with dreams. He targeted Ner’zhul, the Elder Shaman of the Shadowmoon Clan and the most respected spiritual leader among the Orcs. Appearing in visions as the revered spirits of Ner’zhul’s ancestors and his deceased wife, Kil’jaeden fed the shaman a web of masterful lies. The Deceiver convinced Ner’zhul that the Draenei were secretly plotting to eradicate the Orcs, and that the clans needed to unite and strike first to survive.
Trusting the voices of his “ancestors,” Ner’zhul began to rally the divided clans, slowly stoking the fires of paranoia and war. However, as the attacks on the Draenei began and the spirits of the elements suddenly turned their backs on the Orcs, Ner’zhul realized he had been manipulated. He attempted to back down, but it was too late. Kil’jaeden had already found a far more willing and ruthless pawn: none other than Ner’zhul’s own ambitious apprentice, Gul’dan.
Gul’dan and the Shadow Council
Gul’dan was power-hungry, brilliant, and completely devoid of morality. He eagerly embraced Kil’jaeden’s demonic bargains, entirely discarding the ancient shamanistic ways of his people in exchange for the destructive, fel magic of the warlock. To maintain absolute control over the increasingly violent Orc clans, Gul’dan orchestrated the formation of the Horde, placing a brutal puppet Warchief named Blackhand at its forefront.
Behind the scenes, the true power lay with Gul’dan’s secretive Shadow Council, a cabal of warlocks who dictated the Horde’s every move. Under their rule, fel magic began to spread like a sickness. The very earth of Draenor began to rot; the once-vibrant plains turned to barren, cracked wastelands, and the rivers ran thick with ash. The Orcs, fueled by dark magic and a manufactured bloodlust, waged a genocidal campaign against the Draenei, slaughtering them and destroying their shimmering cities.
The Blood of Mannoroth
The culmination of this dark transformation occurred on a desolate mountaintop. To ensure the Orcs were permanently bound to the Burning Legion’s will, Gul’dan summoned the massive pit lord, Mannoroth. The Orc chieftains were called to drink the demon’s glowing, corrupt green blood. Grommash Hellscream, Warchief of the Warsong Clan, was the first to step forward, eagerly drinking the vile liquid.
The demonic blood cursed the Orcs. Their natural brown skin turned a sickly, fel green. Their muscles swelled, their eyes glowed with an unnatural crimson fire, and their minds were completely consumed by an insatiable, blinding rage. They were no longer a proud, shamanistic race; they were the Horde, a demonic vanguard of destruction. They completely annihilated the remaining Draenei resistance, but in doing so, they sealed their own doom. Draenor was rapidly dying, drained of its life force by fel magic. The Horde had won, but they were now starving on a rotting world, desperately needing a new planet to conquer and consume.
The Shadow of the Guardian
While Draenor choked on ash and fel magic, a different, quieter tragedy was unfolding on the vibrant, blue-skied world of Azeroth. For centuries, Azeroth had been secretly protected by the Guardians of Tirisfal, immensely powerful mortal mages imbued with the combined magic of an ancient council to fight off demonic incursions.
The current Guardian was a man named Medivh, who resided in the eerie, sprawling tower of Karazhan. To the outside world, Medivh was an eccentric but brilliant protector. In reality, he was fighting a losing battle for his own soul. Before Medivh was even born, his mother, the previous Guardian Aegwynn, had fought and seemingly defeated an avatar of Sargeras, the Dark Titan and the supreme lord of the Burning Legion. But, Sargeras had secretly transferred his dark spirit into Aegwynn’s womb, possessing Medivh before he drew his first breath.
The demonic Titan slumbered within the young mage. When Medivh finally came of age, the sheer power of the Guardian awakening within him clashed violently with the demonic presence of Sargeras, throwing Medivh into a deep, years-long coma. When he finally awoke, he appeared normal, but Sargeras had quietly taken the reins. The Dark Titan within Medivh knew of the bloodthirsty Orcs on Draenor, and he knew they were the perfect weapon to weaken Azeroth’s defenses from the inside.
Rift in the Black Morass, The First War Begins
Across the vast, incomprehensible expanse of the Twisting Nether, the minds of two immensely powerful, deeply corrupted individuals reached out and found one another. From the dying world of Draenor, Gul’dan searched desperately for a new world to plunder. From the lonely tower of Karazhan, the possessed Medivh reached back.
Medivh promised Gul’dan a lush, vibrant world ripe for the taking, and crucially, he promised the warlock the location of the Tomb of Sargeras, a promise of god-like power that Gul’dan could not resist. Together, through a colossal expenditure of dark magic, the two sorcerers tore a hole in the very fabric of reality.
To stabilize this massive rift and allow an entire army to cross the cosmos, physical anchors were required on both worlds. On Draenor, Gul’dan ordered the Horde to construct a colossal monument of stone and iron. Simultaneously on Azeroth, Medivh secretly erected a matching archway deep within the humid, foggy swamps of the Black Morass in the southern reaches of the human kingdom of Stormwind. Bound by their combined fel magic, the fabric of space violently twisted and tore, solidifying into a permanent gateway: The Dark Portal.
Drawing the First Blood
The eerie silence of the Black Morass was broken by the heavy, rhythmic thud of armored boots. Through the swirling, chaotic vortex of the Dark Portal stepped the first scouting parties of the Horde. Their green skin, massive tusks, and brutal axes were completely alien to the humans of Azeroth. They immediately began to fell the ancient trees of the swamp, constructing crude outposts and preparing for a massive invasion.
It wasn’t long before the human kingdom of Stormwind realized something was terribly wrong in their southern borders. King Llane Wrynn, the noble ruler of Stormwind, and his childhood friend, the legendary knight Sir Anduin Lothar, received disturbing reports of monstrous, green-skinned beasts slaughtering villagers and skirmishing with kingdom patrols.
The humans initially viewed these invaders as a minor, albeit brutal, nuisance, perhaps a new breed of swamp troll. They had no idea that they were facing an entire race of hardened, demon-blooded conquerors whose world had died, leaving them with nothing but an absolute, terrifying necessity to conquer. The skirmishes in the swamp rapidly escalated into brutal, bloody conflicts.
The opening moves had been made. The demonic masters had set the board, the pawns were in play, and the idyllic peace of Azeroth was shattered forever. The First War had officially begun.
