I'm raiding now.And that's it.What? It is called short and sweet, you know.
With suitably epic music in the backgro- oh wait, the track ended.Anyway, here's a faux "script" I made up for an possible third expansion trailer before WotLK came out. I've edited it a little... I'm dedicating it to the Great Mother herself, the scantily clad dragon-in-disguise better known as Alexstrasza.In other news, I wrote a pretend love-poem to her on wowhead O.o Don't ask...Here's the script!
<sad brooding theme plays>The narrator begins, in a gravelly, metallic voice filled with wistfulness and sorrow.“I loved this world, once.”<shots of the Redridge Mountains, fading into the vast Un’goro Crater, bypassing various dinosaurs and focusing at last on a hill of ants; as the camera draws back, from the hill, the insect-filled skies of Silithus can be seen>“My children and I shaped its mountains.” <the camera settles within a single mass of Silithid, so viewers can get a good look at their insectoid features>“Together, we leveled its plains.I was here from the beginning.”Growing frustration. “But those who dwell therein have forgotten all of the good that I did.”<fade to black, gold Blizzard Entertainment logo shimmers in, and dissipates><dark brooding chords play, and the scene re-opens in Blackrock Spire, where a cloaked, hooded figure of indeterminable features bends over, retrieving a cracked crown from the ground. As he places it atop Nefarian’s throne, wisps of power reveal that his eyes are glowing, a coppery colour>The voice is unmistakably angry.“The outcasts of The Horde killed my son in their pitiful quest for redemption.” <majestic-sounding, imposing chords play, and shots are seen of the Stormwind statues and then the inside of Varian’s empty court, where the same figure stands. He strokes something in his palm with deep affection and as he turns to leave, it falls to the ground, beside the throne- a charred rose>“The heroes <the word is spat> of The Alliance murdered my daughter, for following in my foosteps.”With resignation and resolve.“My children. Your deaths shall not be in vain.”<the camera, which was focused on the rose, begins to zoom into a single, red, unburnt petal and the screen is filled with the colour before it zooms back out to show the crimson sands of Hellfire Peninsula> ”Our kind will rise again.”
“They have faced the wrath of the Legion.”<the music stops suddenly, then a rousing battle score begins. Cut to a blood elf meditating on the sand. His head is down, and his hair obscures his face. Suddenly, it jerks upward, showing the black blindfold of a demon hunter. With obvious skill, he twirls a pair of long straight swords, holding them in a reverse grip, and leaps to his feet, showing his bare chest to be covered in green, glowing arcane runes. With unearthly screams, two Felguard descend upon him and he is a whirlwind of steel, parrying left and right, jumping over and away from their massive axes, until a fateful moment when he disarms one with a flick of his wrist, draws the mana from it with a clenched fist as a burning green blue cloud of energy, and spins around it, slicing it in the back of its neck and sending it crashing into its partner. They fall into the camera>“They have overcome the allure of the Scourge.”
<A gnome is shown in a darkened laboratory, wearing wizard-like robes and fantastic looking goggles. He is standing before an assortment of beakers, test-tubes and various filtration and distillation apparatus. He mixes the contents of one beaker with another, with alarming speed, swapping and switching the tubes as they become empty, ignoring the colour changes and minor explosions and finally emerging with a noxious looking green fluid. He turns his back to the table, and the camera follows his gaze to an orc strapped to a doctor’s bed, and gagged. Its eyes widen and muscles bulge against the restraints as he draws closer, and as the camera pans away from the orc toward the gnome’s face, his gnome’s distant smile becomes a concentrated, malevolent grin, his “patient’s” muffled screams becoming louder and more bestial. Fade out after one rather particularly inhuman howl of pain and rage>
“And they have braved the ravages of time itself.”
<A trollish female in Hyjal, lean and imposing, and dressed in leather in front of a line of Night Elven archers. A wall of ghouls is on its way at top speed and she makes a fist, takes a swig from a mug at her side, and soars into the air. With a single leap, she lands between the second and third row and the ghouls are on her. Left and right, arrows fly but she is grace itself, parrying one claw with her forearm, literally bending over backward as an over-exuberant ghoul flings itself at her and slamming her fist through the rotten chest of a third. She dodges the arrows that come too close without even turning, and they find their marks; she climbs up onto another ghoul’s shoulders, twists its head off with her thighs and slides to the ground, sending the decapitated body flying with a vicious roundhouse><Un’goro again, but the ground is rumbling. A bunch of raptors raise their heads, then flee. A Devilsaur pauses, and in that moment, a great, clawed dark-brown limb bursts from the earth scattering boulders everywhere. The huge creature turns to run> “But they have not stood before true, eternal power.”<A great shadow passes over Silithus, joined by another and another. The Silithids zoom out of the sky, finally breaking the eternal buzzing cloud they maintained over the desert for the last two years>“They hid behind those who warred against me ages ago.”<A shot deep beneath the earth is shown; something is moving impossibly fast, too fast for the camera to reveal what it is. It slides through the rock like a bird through the air, and is the colour of oil. The angle rotates around it, but that does nothing to make it more discernable; the music changes and becomes frightening and suspenseful, building slowly>Filled with scorn.“Took council from those who should have been my” (spoken with a guttural growl) “slaves.”< The camera shows Grim Batol, where red, four-legged dragon-kin raise their heads to the sky; a human female with glinting green eyes emerges from a Dream Portal; Somidormu and the other dragons-in-humanoid form in the Caverns of Time are shown bowing to an obscured person); the Eye of Eternity, the place of Malygos’ death in Northrend. Finally, Blackrock Mountain is shown again, this time from outside, and a deafening howl is heard.>With arrogant, harsh confidence. “The time of their folly and pride has come to an end.” <The massive head of a swampy-looking dragon is seen, swallowing the Devil-saur from earlier; black wyrms encrusted with grime, sand and slime soar over the Silithus skies; a hideous, veined monstrosity with only two front legs and the colouring of a Twilight Dragon slithers out of the Obsidian Sanctum and takes to the air with a flap of its misshapen wings; a shimmering, slime covered chromatic dragon climbs Blackrock Mountain as Dark Iron Dwarves and Blackrock orcs cower beneath; the camera shifts from one to the next in quick succession as they cry out and similar bellowing calls come from each to form one massive warcry, as the camera backs away from the continents completely, showing the world of Azeroth.>“Forgetting me will be their final mistake.”<The camera zooms back into the map, through the clouds, over the furious waters of the Maelstrom, to what appears to be a black iron plate, beside a shiny metallic floor. As it rescinds, the ˜floor’ is revealed to be a single row of metal plates in a corset of armour, and the iron plate, a single scale among hundreds. The speaker is revealed as the music gives way to several apocalyptic chords. He is an immense black dragon roughly ten to twelve times larger than the other dragons shown; dozens of them are swarming around him like a pack of excited birds. His chest is protected by a brilliant metallic vest, beneath which a throbbing, pulsating heart of fire can be dimly seen. He soars over the Maelstrom, heedless of his crazed companions, and spits his final lines.>“Once more, Death has taken Wing.”<The score concludes violently and the title shows>“World of Warcraft.(molten lava blackens the title and sears the subtitle into existence as studded steel font)Reign of Deathwing.>
Hm, let's see if I can actually not be long winded for once. I have...
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