The Dalaran Storyline

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*sigh* I absolutely suck at introductions, but feel this one needs to be done, so... bear with me =]

Also, at this point the whole thing is something done only by the Council - at least until Chingo/Gremkarc decides to join into the storyline with the Society or not.

The Dalaran Storyline is a series of RP events run separately and jointly by the (Horde) Heroes' Society and the Wizards' Council, telling the Sha'Tar version of the story of how the city of Dalaran and the Kirin Tor came to accept the Horde as an ally in the fight against the Blue Dragonflight, how Malygos's crusade is revealed to the world, which is saved from certain doom (again) and how deep the is the racial hatred between (some) Blood Elves and (some) Night Elves.

The whole story is to be summarized in a chronicle-like fashion with chapters added as it progresses. Bear in mind that it's only a story and should not be used for metagaming.
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Chapter 1: Ashenvale

The idea was simple enough.
Every High - and then Blood - Elf knows how the Sunwell truly worked, in a way that is completely unspeakable an unexplainable to non-elves who see that blessed pool only as a never-ending source exploited to power more and more powerful and elaborate magic, in many cases secretly rejoicing at the sight of the haughty Elves getting what they deserved. The Quel'dorei weren't exactly without fault themselves, preferring to keep the façade rather than to let the N'Tel'Quess in on the secret.
Now, the moonwells... gah! Every Arcanist knew the story, or at least one of them: The moonwells focus life of the surrounding, well, life, powering the Druids' magic, sometimes at the expense of the wildlife itself. The moonwells stand on nexuses of ley lines, thus using exactly the same power sources the Sunwell does. The moonwells tap the power of the goddess Elune herself, whether she'll be drained of it all due to this some day is unknown. The moonwells are places where the domains of the holy and the water meet. The moonwells infuse the plant life nearby with pure magical energy, sustaining the Night Elves which are in fact as hooked as Blood Elves are.
The moonwells are a mystery. Things That Shouldn't Be Meddled With And Which Man Isn't Supposed To Know.
When that last version reached the pointy ears of Edanna Kal'es and her little Wizards' Council, every supporter of it felt a disturbance in the fabric of the universe. A Mystery, oh, ho, ho, ho! One that Man Isn't Supposed To Know, ho, ho, ho! Well, splendid, because I happen to be a woman!
Soon enough a troupe of Arcanists ventured into Ashenvale to take these little mysteries under the magnifying glass.
What they found was mana. And tass, mana's druidic, highly concentrated, earth-infused version. The moonwells were seeping with them, giving them off at an alarming rate, saturating the nearby environment to the point that even the most addicted Sin'dorei would stand up, excuse himself, and walk far away.
The also found a most peculiar denizen of the woods, a Night Elven Druid who decided to give them a little show of druidic powers in the form of a huge Shambler, a construct, animated from fallen leaves, twigs, logs, dirt, moss and rotting organic matter... give them a show and then return them to Mother Nature in the form of a fertilizer.
The wizards, unprepared for battle, saved themselves by escaping via a portal, but not before noticing that while the power to animate the Shambler came from a local moonwell, the spell used was of arcane nature.
What followed was a lot of speculation, guesses and a decision to leave the matter until new facts appear.
Also followed research upon samples the wizards managed to bring back, but the results are known to no one but them...

Chapter 2: Ghostlands

Time passed, and the wizards spent it either on sweet laziness or serious research... until the idyll was broken by a letter from Grand Magister Rommath himself.

(...) you may not be aware that in the days before the fall of Quel'Thalas each village, town and spire in what today is known as Ghostlands was called home to at least one wizard of no small skill (I include a short list of their names below). Most of these wizards died during the Scourge assault, some took their leave and never managed to return, thus losing the work of their lives.
Dear miss Kal'es, on behalf of the Magisterium and the wizards of Ghostlands both living and late I allow your Council to help itself to any works of magic, including tomes, spellbooks, research notes, experiments and magic items you might find there. Magisterium's only request is that the Council makes the found knowledge available to non-members by placing in in the common library. (...)

Despite having a strong feeling of being used to do all dirty work, Edanna herded the more and less reluctant wizards of the Council to Ghostlands, where they made use of the received permit to its fullest, gathering tomes that were thought lost forever. One has to say that they cheated a bit when they fulfilled their part of that bargain: they marked the tomes with their own colours and put notes on every page, explaining that these certain tomes were property of the Council, not Magisterium. Rommath was a little angry at this, but the retrieved knowledge made all bad feelings disappear...
The Council made one find though that no one could ever predict: they released a benevolent being of immense power from a forced death-like state that lasted for hundreds of years.
One of the legendary spellcasters that were thought to have died out after the Sunwell was destroyed.
A Selu'taar.
An Elven High Mage.
Yet that was not the conclusion of the adventure – after sending the High Mage Therion Gers back to Silvermoon and deciding his identity should be best kept secret, the wizards moved on to the next village, only to discover via an Eye of Kilrogg (with ear!) the very same druid they met in Ashenvale, plotting with an old, female, black-furred Tauren to unleash some sort of a dreadful retribution against an unknown group of arcanists!
The Tauren was all but an image, summoned via primitive arcane magic and disappeared before they could discover her identity with absolute certainty, but the druid decided that running is the best option.
A wild chase ensued, ending with the mages discovering the strange arcanist-druid planning to use some dreadful spell going by the name “Explosive Sundering”! However, dumbfounded by a cloud of magical darkness they did not manage to stop the druid from boarding a ship to Kalimdor and escaping...
What nefarious plots and masterminds hide behind all this? What is the exact nature of the spell? What is its target? What is the identity of the Druid and the Tauren? Stay tuned...

Interlude

The crone was laughing. Oh, why did the crone had to laugh! Margatha's elderly, mocking giggle made Jannil want to... but let's not rush. There's plenty of ways of how the stupid cow can be taught a lesson and once the job's done he shall have enough time to think of the most painful one. Think... come to think of it, he started to enjoy having power without having to beg greater beings for it... maybe the blues will be wanting to... renegotiate... but this can wait. Oh, she stopped laughing. Let's find out what she got to say.
“So you tell me some second-hand adventurers simply turned off your precious moonwells?”
Be cool, just be cool...
“Yes”, answered Jannil sharply “And if you don't mind, I'd like us to talk about how the mages enslave spirits and how you can fix that, rather that small mishaps.”
“Oh! And what can I, a poor old crone do about it?”, Margatha smiled innocently.
You know exactly how, you just act as if you were senile...
“One of the reasons why the spirits are angry is because they have been enslaved by... my... cousins... the High Elves. Every mage can summon a spirit without its consent... and your shamans can change that.” Jannil took a deep breath “By doing so your clan will surely earn their gratitude. As a small compensation for the service you'll order... no, allow them to wrack the dome around the nearby city of Dalaran.”
“Tell me more...”, Margatha smiled.

* * *

Therion Gers stopped looking at the divination mirror and rubbed his eyes. A misinterpreted oath, a few wicked minds, and a malevolent will steering all these. At this rate he'll have to tell them... or worse - start teaching Arselu'Tel'Quess to these youngsters of that small Wizards' Council. A side thought struck him: One day they might be worthy...

The ancient wizard unrolled a map of the modern Arathi Highlands. So, the Oathstones were still there... some of their power diverted to bind a powerful elemental being... slowing the progress. If these... Grimtotem were to destroy them, a score of nasty things... better not think of that.
There's a number of young people calling themselves “Heroes”, he recalled. When the time is ripe he shall warn them, but first – the duty.

Before Therion Gers slipped into trance to continue altering the flux of power over Quel'Thalas to help his brothers and sisters purify themselves from fel magic over time and get by without it, another random thought hit him.
“How poor and foolish all these nations are, not knowing that at its heart all kinds of magic is one and the same...”

((
*sigh*
I must apologize to everyone involved in the storyline for my habit to procrastinate until it's too late and people have other plans for the day.

I have decided that there will be three events on three following days - Saturday, Sunday and Monday at 8 PM game time, with the Monday one concluding the series.

Thank you in advance for bearing with my nonexistent organization skills and taking part in them.
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