Many wise scholars and devout stargazers had spotted it, the distant star in the night sky, the white orb of the far reaches of the dark. But only I knew what it really was. Only I and my captors. But now I am getting ahead of myself. My name is Shal Lightbinder. I used to be an Archmage of Dalaran, the city of greatness and wonder, the home of the arcane. But when it fell to the onslaught of the heartless Scourge, that unrelenting undead war machine, my powers vanished like a cube of ice under the sun of Tanaris, for such is the cruel game fate plays with us mortals. A crippled husk of a wizard, occasionally wishing the merciful embrace of death had claimed me when it claimed my fellow magi, I made my way to the south.