The winds swept across the frozen plains making swirling geometric patterns in the snow laden prairie grass. This was a cold day in the northern land, both in weather and in heart. For it wasn't only the snow, but the chilled waters which were causing the kingdom concern; up and up they went, rising over the rivers banks. The land's people thought they could hold them at bay but none could be sure.
The engineers flew over the homesteads of their countrymen, working diligently in their flying machines to hold back the mighty waters. And while things were quiet now, it was predicted by those with foresight to not be quiet for much longer. More movement in the waters was coming, and it was something that no man wanted to see.
The kingdom was under the protection of the councilmen and councilwomen, yet they were impeded in their efforts at every turn by the maniacal Lich King, laughing and taunting them with his powers over the frozen wastes.
"Petty mortals, do you really think you can withstand the power of the mighty Scourge?" he chided the citizens who dared brave the cold north. Sitting atop his ice crowned citadel there was nothing he couldn't see, nothing he couldn't do. For the domain of the north was his and his alone.
Except upon this day the voice of the gods and the wizards of Dalaran opened up their mouths and spoke in unison.
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