Warcraft Chronicles: The Wanderers of Azeroth​ ⁽⁵⁵⁾

The days that followed were a blur of ascent and endurance. The air grew thinner, the cold more biting. The trees shrank to stunted, wind-gnarled pines that clung to the rocky slopes like desperate climbers. Leon moved through a world of stone and sky, the…

Dawn in the high mountains was a brutal, beautiful affair. The sun's first rays painted the jagged peaks in fiery orange, but the air in the deep valleys remained bitingly cold. Leon emerged from behind the waterfall stiff and shivering, his breath pluming in the…

Dawn over Lake Everstill was a spectral affair. A thick, white mist clung to the water, swallowing the far shore and muffling all sound. The world was reduced to the creaking of the wooden dock under Leon's feet and the gentle, hypnotic slap of water…

The Slaughtered Lamb Inn was a world unto itself. The air inside was thick with the smells of roasting meat, spilled ale, and pipe smoke. The common room was crowded and loud, filled with the boisterous chatter of miners, the low grumbles of merchants, and…

The two days in the mining camp passed in a blur of rest and routine. Leon's body, pushed to its absolute limit, drank in the sleep and hot food like a parched plant. The dwarves, for their part, treated him with a rough but genuine…