Yeah, I know it's crap. I'm a programmer, not a novelist. Still, I like writing it, when I have the time.
Note on lore: Because these stories are written in the first person, they do not accurately represent the lore as set forth by Blizzard. This is due to the incompleteness or inaccuracy of the characters' knowledge.
I awoke in the chill of the darkness below. I do not know how long I lay there, silence filling and surrounding me, but now I felt a pull… a gentle tugging at my mind. As I stood, the fractured ghosts of memories brushed against my mind. Fear. Running. The coming of a great evil. A terrible heat consuming my body from within. But even as these scattered impressions drifted past, they scattered and faded.
I felt stronger now, and the world was growing more clear. The pull I had felt still drew me forward, but I paused to survey my surroundings. An icy power seemed to flow in my veins as I peered into the gloom, and it began to part before me. An almost imperceptible glow lit the room around me and I now perceived its gross detail.
I had awoken on a stone slab and was surrounded by many more. Some bore twisted remains, apparently the victims of some disfiguring disease. The walls were filled with niches choked with bones, tattered cloth, and other detritus of death. A tomb, then, but there was an open doorway before me and it was towards it I was being drawn.
Through the doorway was a wide set of stone steps and as I ascended them, the nature of the power flowing through me seemed to shift in my perception. Not ice, but rather a heat so intense that it burned like cold fire. A hunger welling up from the depth of my being. This was the force driving me forward, pulling me from my tomb… and after a few turnings, my eyes first beheld the world I so hungered for.
A watery sun cast its feeble light upon a blighted land. I espied ruined buildings, twisted trees, and — not far from where I stood — a watching figure. Bones protruding from its tattered flesh, it stood watching me with weapon ready. One last flicker of recollection told me that this was the great evil which had been visited up on the world, but gone was the fear and hatred. Now it was merely a detail of my surroundings. For its part, the figure did not seem to threaten or even take much interest in me. It merely stood watching, as if waiting to see whether I would react to it. After a moment, it asked my name.
"I have none," I rasped.
Heaving the heart-felt sigh of those who clearly should not have to bear the burdens placed upon them, the figure commanded me enter the village below, to learn my fate. Lacking a compelling reason to do otherwise, I complied.
In the village I learned that I was of the Forsaken, the risen dead who had been freed from the domination of the Lich King. It was most unusual for one to return with no memory of their self or their past, but such had happened on occasion. My talents were put to the test and I proved to have a particular aptitude for the summoning and control of demons and the manipulation of their energies. Thus did I enter into the tutelage of the Warlocks and came to be called by them "Malefactor", a doer of great and shadowy deeds.
I have learned, in my time, many things. I am given to persue causes and motives and to delve into the deep and hidden places of the world. Thus have I discovered artifacts from empires so ancient they are lost in the mists of legend. Thus have I unearthed tomes of knowledge which have long since vanished from the ken of mortals. My studies of these artifacts and tomes have revealed to me certain mysteries in the world which I have as yet been unable to answer.
One such is the whereabouts of the Dragon Aspects during the Third War. Those privileged to have studied the secret histories of this world will know that the Titans, the beings who brought order to Azeroth, created the five dragon flights to watch over it. One, the black flight, has been lost to madness. Another, the blue, was exterminated ten thousand years ago. But what of the remaining three? The green flight fruitlessly guards an empty temple while the red stays hidden within the fortress of Grim Batol, licking their wounds and lamenting the hand which Fate has dealt them. Of the bronze flight, nothing had been heard in generations before the return of the Qiraji. Where are they hiding? What has befallen the dragonflights that mortals must take up their duties?
I am also quite curious as to the existence of worlds beyond our own. It is well known that the orcs are alien to Azeroth. As a warlock, I have learned that demons are merely beings whose worlds have been consumed by the Burning Crusade. Indeed, even the Titans of Dwarven legend are otherworldly in origin. However, our only access to other worlds, the Dark Portal, was been sealed since the destruction of the orcs' home world. What else lies beyond the veil of stars?
Not yet written…