Azeroth was just another routine stop on Algalon’s continued scanning of the cosmos. Loken, the Primary Designate in charge of keeping Yogg-Saron locked away, had died at the hands of mortals merrily tromping through the Halls of Lightning in search of knowledge and loot. With his last breath, Loken gasped that his death heralded the end of the world — because he knew that his death was the key to bringing Algalon to Azeroth.
And once Algalon was on Azeroth, he would perform his scan. He would find the Well of Eternity destroyed, one Aspect corrupted by an Old God, another Aspect dead, the Primary Designate dead, and Yogg-Saron breaking his way out of his prison. There was zero chance that Algalon would send anything other than a Reply code Omega, Sell world of warcraft gold and Azeroth’s re-origination was guaranteed … almost.
Because the only thing Algalon didn’t expect was that the tiny mortal races of the world would fight their way to his chamber and try to keep him from sending that Reply code with every ounce of tenacity and strength they possessed. And to Algalon, this simply … did not compute.
I have seen worlds bathed in the Makers’ flames. Their denizens fading without so much as a whimper. Entire planetary systems born and razed in the time that it takes your mortal hearts to beat once. Yet all throughout, my own heart, devoid of emotion… of empathy. I… have… felt… NOTHING! A million, million lives wasted. Had they all held within them your tenacity? Had they all loved life as you do?
Of all the worlds Algalon had encountered, of all of the worlds he had mechanically scanned and re-originated, not a single one possessed mortal races who were not only cognizant of their world’s corruption but intent on fighting it. Not a single one had registered on his radar. And when the mortals of Azeroth broke into the Celestial Planetarium to confront him directly and were successful at doing so, Algalon was at a loss. This was simply not in his programming.
