At the edge of Netherstorm lay a dark star domain surrounded by floating islands large and small.
This part of the world had long since been all but destroyed by Ner'zhul's devastation. Compared with the continents annihilated in the collision of explosive energies, wretched Netherstorm had been very fortunate indeed.
At least it still existed, even in this half-dead state that could collapse at any moment.
This place had once been called Farahlon, once the most flourishing center of mystical culture in Draenor World. Sadly, with the fracturing of the land and the destruction of the world, it had now vanished completely into the brutality of time.
It had existed in this chaotic, desolate state for over a decade, until the Ethereals arrived. But the Ethereals had merely treated it as a commercial district and a base, with no intention of developing a greater civilization here. If this land had a consciousness of its own, perhaps he would have been an old soldier waiting to don his armor and march to war again, covered in wounds yet still yearning to return to his own battlefield.
Now, the glory Netherstorm had awaited had arrived!
Deep in the starry sky, tranquil and peaceful since time immemorial, the starship Tempest Keep, resembling a purple crystal, occupied the center of the newly completed starport like a slumbering primordial beast. Its purple crystalline hull shimmered beneath the starlight with a hazy yet gentle glow.
Ever since the Naaru brought the Draenei exiles to this untamed world from a distant star domain, Tempest Keep, with its artistic beauty, had stood here as though it had become part of Netherstorm itself. For hundreds of years, it had not moved an inch.
Once it fell into Illidan's hands, however, it took on a mission of war unlike anything