I pronounce this not for the benefit of a political agenda. Indeed, these words themselves may be deemed heresy, and see my head stricken from my shoulders - yet I must speak them.
We have been betrayed.
For many years, these words have resounded through our nation with the an unsettling implication. Our ancestors, the great and noble Highborne, were betrayed by the jealously of the Kaldorei and their selfish desire to hoard the power of the Well of Eternity.
Our first betrayal.
Thousands of years passed. The Fallen Paladin Arthas, unchecked by his so-called superiors in the Silver Hand marched on Quel’Thalas. Unchallenged, the damnation of our nation that followed can be laid at the feet of the Paladins that failed Azeroth, and the traitor Dar’khan Drathir whose sabotage led to our greatest defeat in history.
Yet from death, we rose. As the phoenix of our nation rises, we did too - the proud children of Quel’Thalas - threw off the shackles of despair and took hold of our destiny once more.
We marshaled behind our Prince.
We performed new miracles of magical might.
We brought ourselves to the dawn of a darker age.
It gave us hope.
Yet again, we were betrayed.
The Grand Marshal Garithos branded our nation as craven - as consorting with foes, despite our desperation. He would have seen us, an entire species, massacred in the name of his blatant hatreds. Even after Arthas, we called those of Lordaeron ‘friend’ and were rewarded with senseless brutality.
Years passed. We went to the shattered world of Draenor, we threw our lot in with Thrall. Our Prince promised us a new, sacred land. Our salvation looked assured, and we were unstoppable...
Do you remember the feelings, my kin? The empowerment? The righteous purpose? We believed ourselves to be entering a new golden age, a time of prosperity and progress. We were at the pinnacle of the world, steps away from our final paradise!
Until we turned upon each other, and a dark truth shattered us all: the Legion’s touch had stolen Prince’s mind.
Kael’thas, twisted by the Masters he so foolishly sought to serve, to deliver this world - our world! - to the flame.
We rebelled in the face of our greatest treason.
We rebelled, and under our Regent-Lord’s valiant leadership we cast down the husk that had once been our messiah.
We threw down his idols, we burnt his Sunfury banners, we cast aside our reverence of the Sunstrider Kings.
Even in our liberation, even in the glorious rebirth that followed the Sunwell's rekindling, none can deny that the day Kael'thas died, the day the Last Sunstrider fell, a piece of our nation died with him.
Yet from this we marched on.
We sought Arthas Menethil. We pushed to his frozen bastion in the arctic north and under the Ashbringer’s banner, we slew the traitor Menethil and shattered his blade upon the cold pinnacle of Icecrown. The Lich King died, the Scourge lost its fire and all before us was rendered to dust. Our history was absolved. Finally, we could begin to mend.
(Allow me to reserve a few posts, please!)