A towering black peak rose to the north of the desolate Burning Steppes.
In this barren, lifeless land, dark boulders and slabs of lava formed the surface of the plain.
Caravans and adventurers passing through the plain often saw lava erupting from the distant mountains. Yet no human had ever dared venture into the distant Blackrock Mountains, not even those mysterious, greedy adventurers. They had never set foot in this land of death.
Since the end of the orcs war, many merchants traveling through the area had spotted black-skinned orcs moving about.
Although the Kingdom of Stormwind later dispatched troops to eliminate the remaining orc forces, they failed to find this band and returned empty-handed.
In theory, the Kingdom of Stormwind's expedition should have put those rumors to rest.
Yet rumors about the Burning Gorge and the surrounding plains only grew more numerous.
Passing caravans claimed that not only orcs roamed here, but also terrifying black dragons and scorching creatures of flame.
At first, the merchants' guilds of the northern kingdoms believed these were rumors spread by the local guilds around the Redridge Mountains.
They thought the locals were using false rumors to stop northern merchants from bringing cheap goods into the Redridge Mountains, keeping them out of trade with the Kingdom of Stormwind.
As time passed, fewer people repeated the rumors, but merchants crossing the Burning Steppes had all but disappeared as well.
"So there are still caravans that aren't afraid to die these days. They actually dare enter my territory!" A dark-faced young man in a black crown and pitch-black robes stood on the palace tower's platform with his hands clasped behind his back.
At that moment, he was using an arcane scrying spell to watch the caravan moving across the plain, his gaze filled with resentment.
The