Not a dragon, but worth-while prey nonetheless: Andrazor.
A good fortune to you, fellow adventurer.
I write these lines in great haste. My ship for Auberdine leaves within the hour. I have to abandon the assault on Icecrown Citadel. I am no longer needed here: The Lich King is now a cornered rat, fighting a last, futile stand, and as much I wsh I could stay and see him brought to justice, there is something of far greater urgency. I have not really talked about this with the others. I am not sure they’d agree with my assessment.
For the past months, I have been plagued by recurring dreams. Dreams of Azeroth in flames. And of a dark shape raising its wings against the smoke filled skies of the burning nights.
I feel something bad is going to happen. Something big. And that dark shape? I know that shape: I am sure that it’s a dragon. A bad one.
I do not know what exactly is going to happen, nor when. Maybe it really is just that, a dream. But I can not deny a sense of urgency that I feel. I have to prepare – and find out more about this dream.