The Jailer

Terenas Menethil II: Without its master's command, the restless Scourge will become an even greater threat to this world.

Terenas Menethil II: Control must be maintained...There must always be...a Lich King...



Bolvar Fordragon: The dragons' flame... sealed my fate... The world of the living can no longer comfort me.

Bolvar Fordragon: Place the crown upon my head, Tirion. Forevermore - I will be the jailer of the damned.

Q: Identity of mysterious jailer - is he someone that we know connected to death i.e. Argus or Helya?



A: Intended to be a mysterious new figure - not someone we've met before but an important part of the cosmology of the Warcraft universe. Applying what we know about the universe to a new place. He's a centerpiece villain of this expansion.

The Warnings and Misdirection

Alliance:

Varimathras: So, your Alliance still endures. Longer than I expected, though she has already planted the seeds of its downfall. She is patient, that one.

Varimathras: When your thrones run red with betrayal... when your holy places burn and the shattered mask hangs above your hearth... only then you will know. And it will be too late.

Varimathras: It matters not. You are blind to the true darkness closing in around you.



Horde:

Varimathras: So, she found me at last. Sent her underlings to finish the job.

Varimathras: Tell me, when she seized your throne of hides and bones, was your allegiance forced? No... I'd wager you surrendered it willingly... or were convinced you did.

Varimathras: It matters not. You are blind to the darkness in your midst.

Ogmot sees lady wrapped in dark swirlies. She leads herd of blind sheep.



Da sheepies follow her everplace she go. Do everthin she say. Never doubt lady.



She guide dem over tall cliff! SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT! Stupid sheepies!



Da crows get fat eatin da sheepflesh. Da lady laugh as crows eat!

The veil wanes. His crown will open the way.

Azshara: We have a bargain, then. I will bring both fleets crashing to the ocean floor, and your champion will deliver the dagger to me.

Sylvanas: And in turn, you will have the key required to free the Old God from his bonds... and leave him vulnerable.

Azshara: You wound me, Warchief. After all, I am as dedicated to my master as you are to your subjects.

Sylvanas: Indeed. Just be certain that once you have what you need, you dispose of your guests. Let none of the "heroes" escape.

Azshara: I admire your ruthlessness, Windrunner. It seems our interests are aligned... at present.

Sylvanas: At present.

Azshara: Treacherous Banshee! Do you think I am blind to the darkness you seek to unleash?



Now go and do what you will. I tire of intermediaries and heralds. The true throne of power beckons, and I intend to claim it.



The Edge of Night

"We are bound to the will of the dormant Lich King. Imprisoned atop Icecrown, possibly for eternity. We hunger for our freedom, as you once hungered for yours." Annhylde knelt beside Sylvanas, the other Val'kyr clustering around the pair of them, arms linked. "We need a vessel. One like us. A sister of war. Strong. Who understands life and death. Who has seen the light and the dark. Someone worthy—worthy of power over life and death."



"We need you," repeated Agatha, her black hair floating freely in the light.



"My sisters will be free, free of the Lich King forever, but their souls will be bound to yours," Annhylde continued. "Sylvanas Windrunner, Dark Lady, queen of the Forsaken… you may walk with the living again through the sisterhood of the Val'kyr. As long as they live, so too shall you. Freedom, life… and power over death. This is our pact. Do you accept our gift?"

The Maw and Shadowlands

The gleaming spires of Bastion are all too reminiscent of Odyn's Halls of Valor.

The eternal forest of Ardenweald feeds the spirits of nature in an endless cycle of rebirth, much in the same way as the Emerald Dream.

The necromantic obsession with undeath in Maldraxxus has obvious parallels to the Scourge and Cult of the Damned.

Revendreth is a gothic, vampiric place reminiscent of the San'layn originally raised by Arthas.

To be cast into the Maw is to be doomed to a bleak eternity. It is a tumultuous, hopeless land where the vilest souls in the cosmos are imprisoned forever.

She saw only darkness.



And then she felt—truly felt, for the first time in a long while. She recoiled. In agony.



Here she was, her spirit once again feeling whole, only to feel it suffer. To feel once more, only to feel abject pain. Cold. Hopelessness.



Fear.



There were others in the darkness. Things she didn't recognize, because nothing so terrible could exist in the world of the living. Claws tore at her, but she had no mouth with which to scream. Eyes looked at her, but she couldn't look back.

Now the others had her. Surrounded her. Gleeful, tormenting, tearing at her consciousness, delighting in her suffering.



Horror.



This was to be her eternity: the endless void, the dark, unknown realm of anguish.

Q: Did the jailer in The Maw see the Legion as a threat which is why Sylvanas worked with Varian?



A: We'll find out more of her motivations in Shadowlands and that her relationship with the Jailer dates back a bit. Edge of Night story involves this relationship. Working with Varian was a long term strategy in order to get Warchief - had to make allies but now we're seeing the fruition of that.

Sylvanas in Legion

Vol'jin

Vol'jin: Sometin' not be right dat day. Da demons, deir blades slipped past me guard.

Vol'jin: As if da loa demselves had forsaken me.

Vol'jin: Like dey be doin' now. Cannot hear dem, champion. Da voices of da loa be silent.

Vol'jin: I been callin' ta Bwonsamdi for a long time. He not be hearin' me... or he been choosin' not ta answer.

Vol'jin: Somethin' was definitely helping' our enemies dat day. But who or what could dat have been? Da loa were silent and their powers were gone, as if I'd lost their favor. With so much death, I be havin' one person in mind who might be behind it.

Vol'jin: A darkness in me mind be keeping me from remembering what happened da day I named Sylvanas warchief.

Vol'jin: I remember dyin'. I remember glimpsin' da Other Side.

Vol'jin: I was expectin' ta see ol' Bwonsamdi, or Shadra, or Hir'reek... any of da loa.

Vol'jin: Dere was a presence. Somethin' movin' in da shadows. Somethin' powerful.

Vol'jin: I remember it takin' me somewhere, but da memory of where be hidden from me. Ta keep me from sharin' da truth...

Vol'jin: Da truth dat it might not be da loa who wanted Sylvanas to be warchief, but somethin' far more powerful.

Vol'jin: Queen of da Val'kyr. My spirit was sent to da Other Side, den returned. Was dis your doing?

Eyir: Shadow hunter, you are no longer a mere spirit. What you have become is something beyond my power to forge.

Vol'jin: Who be havin' such power? Could it be da same one who bid me ta name Sylvanas warchief?

Eyir: You have been touched by the hand of valor. Such a noble force does not scheme for mortal thrones.

Vol'jin: So whoever whispered to me's not da same as who sent me back?

Souls who arrive here are brought before the Arbiter, a mysterious and ancient being whose existence predates all memory—even older than the Titans, according to some accounts. Those brought before her have all of their deeds, memories, and experiences—the very contents of their souls—laid bare, and are judged in a mere instant.

Helya

Argus

The machine of death is broken, and players entering the Shadowlands will find the realm of the dead in disarray. In the natural order of things, souls are sorted and sent on to an afterlife realm appropriate to the lives they lived, but now, but over the past few years, all souls who have perished—including the innocents slain at Teldrassil—are being funneled directly into the Maw. The Shadowlands are starving for anima even as the Maw continues to grow from the glut of fresh souls.

Death! Death and pain!

The master demands your doom!

Argus the Unmaker yells: No hope. Just pain. Only pain!