The War of Nightmares

In the twenty-eighth year after the Dark Portal, Orgrimmar, once the bustling capital of the Horde, had fallen into dead silence. Warriors of the Kor'kron, their faces marked by massive dark circles, patrolled Orgrimmar to maintain order. Yet judging by their exhausted expressions, they had gone a long time without rest.

Horde Warchief Thrall sat in the Warchief's Hall, staring at stacks of documents recording the cause of Orgrimmar's current state: the inhabitants of all Azeroth had fallen into a strange condition, sleeping without waking.

Before anyone realized it, sixty percent of Orgrimmar's residents had fallen into an unending slumber. Neither shamans, Druids, nor priests could awaken them.

To ensure Orgrimmar's safety, Warchief Thrall could only order the Kor'kron, whose ranks had yet to be restored, to patrol through the night without sleep.

But Thrall did not know how long these steadfast warriors could endure, because once their bodies gave out and they fell asleep, they might never awaken again.

Warchief Thrall's great strength could actually resist this unknown force, but worry and responsibility kept him from sleeping. He picked up the cup beside him and drained it in one gulp.

It contained invigorating coffee from Noxus and tea leaves from the Wandering Isle. They could restore Warchief Thrall's spirits.

"Rest assured, Warchief. With the equipment provided by Chieftain Rend, our sleeping people will be fine for the time being." Nazgrel, who also had heavy dark circles beneath his eyes, comforted Warchief Thrall.

Being unconscious was not inherently frightening. The problem was remaining unconscious forever. People could not eat or replenish water in that state; if this continued, they would soon starve and die of thirst in their dreams.

Rend had also prepared in advance for the War of Nightmares. He truly had no way to stop the nightmare-induced sleep,