Naxxramas is destroyed.
Ulduar lies in ruins.
Even the Lich King, our hated nemesis, has been bested.
Now there are only memories of faded glory. A ghost of the greatness that was, and what never will be again.
The heroes have moved on, left the once-glorious floating city to its own devices. In their place, only the desperate, the corrupt, the forgotten remain. Organized crime, petty thieves, rapists, murderers...they are legion within the city, now.
My city. My beautiful, wonderful metropolis. I spent so many happy hours here. Yes...happy. Me, of all people. I was happy here. Content. At peace.
I cannot look at the shell of this place and not feel...rage. Rage against the people who sully it. Rage against those who abandoned it. Rage for all those that must remain and deal with the daily despair of life.
And that rage needs victims.
So while you heroes of the frozen north run back to Azeroth...
While you succumb to the consumerism of the Bilgewater Cartel...
While you quibble over useless theological debates between Thrall's followers and Hellscreams'...
I will remain as I always have. I will stay and defend those who cannot defend themselves. I will be the guardian they no longer have.
I am a poor champion, I admit. But if I am all they have, then so be it. The darkness that rules Dalaran now has an enemy. The people have a guardian.
Because for them I can be what I never have been. What I never tried to be. What I never wanted to be.
(with apologies to Batman, Daredevil, and The Maxx)