The first to arrive was Rhonin and the Red Dragon mage Krasus. Upon landing in ancient Azeroth, Krasus discovered to his horror that a portion of his memory had vanished—specifically details regarding the War of the Ancients and certain future events. Furthermore, his power had been severely suppressed; he now possessed the strength of a mere human mage and had lost the ability to transform into his dragon form.
Rhonin fared slightly better. Though weakened, he managed to recover after resting on the grass for a short while.
"What... what is going on? Archmage Krasus, where on earth have we been sent? Where are we?" Rhonin asked, staggering to his feet and scanning the unfamiliar landscape.
Krasus climbed up from the ground. Despite his missing memories and suppressed dragon-soul, his ten thousand years of scholarship allowed him to recognize their location: this was the world ten thousand years in the past—ancient Kalimdor.
The realization filled Krasus with mixed emotions. Nozdormu and the Bronze Dragonflight were the sworn protectors of the timeline; they never allowed time travelers to exist, as it disrupted the flow of history. But this time, it was the Aspect of Time himself who had sent them. Had Nozdormu reached the fated point of his own corruption? If so, things were dire.
"Rhonin, I have a piece of good news and a piece of bad news. Which do you want first?" Krasus sighed.
"Please, the good news first. I can't take any more bad news."
"The good news is that the mysterious lightning and the temporal vortex didn't kill us. We were saved by Nozdormu," Krasus said with a wry smile.
"I already gathered that much since we're breathing,閣下. Now, the bad news!" Rhonin shrugged helplessly.
"The bad news is that we are no longer on our original timeline. Nozdormu used a very specific power to send us back ten thousand years into the past," Krasus explained, looking at the pristine environment.
"Ten thousand years?! You've got to be joking!" Rhonin's face paled. He had been on a simple scouting mission. How was he supposed to get back to his wife and children? A dragon could live for millennia, but he was a human; he would be dead in a few decades. He might never see his family again.
"Don't panic yet. This situation is unique. Perhaps the Dragon King sent us here to find someone," Krasus mused, stroking his chin.
"Find someone? Wait... you mean Lord Rhodes, who's been missing for three years?" Rhonin asked, startled.
After the coronation of Queen Calia and the establishment of the dual-monarchy in Lordaeron, Rhodes had been vanished by Nozdormu. This had incited the fury of Jaina, Anveena, the Princess of Lordaeron, the Silver Hand, and even King Kael'thas. Nozdormu had claimed it was a "time loop"—that Rhodes was destined to participate in the War of the Ancients.
In the three years since Rhodes's disappearance, the fragile alliance between the Horde and Alliance had crumbled into constant skirmishes. Furthermore, a massive influx of "adventurers" had appeared on the stage of Azeroth, seeking fame and fortune. Just days ago, Nozdormu had told the Queen of Lordaeron to prepare for her Prince's return, and Rhonin had been sent as Dalaran's representative—only to be sucked back in time along with Krasus and an Orc hero.
"Listen, Rhonin. My memories of the specific details of this war are sealed, but I know the resistance wins. We must not interfere with the timeline, or we risk erasing the future. Our mission is simple: find Rhodes, then have the Bronze King send us back. Understand?" Krasus warned.
Krasus was worried about the human mage. Even a small change could butterfly into a catastrophic future. Little did he know that the three of them were meant to be here; without them, the war would be lost.
Suddenly, a commotion erupted. A patrol of Night Elf sentries in gleaming armor, armed with spears and bows, discovered the intruders. Krasus currently looked like a High Elf—similar to the Highborne but noticeably different—and Rhonin looked even more alien, though the sentries noted he bore a resemblance to "Lord Rhodes."
The patrol was led by Varo'then. The sentries surrounded the duo, drawing their bows.
"Wait, friends! No! We are allies! Humans and Night Elves are allies!" Rhonin shouted. In his time, the Night Elves—especially the Druids—had helped heal the blighted lands of the humans.
Krasus sighed. "In this era, Rhonin, humans and Night Elves are not allies. They haven't even seen a human before." He paused. "Well, unless they've met Lord Rhodes."
"Surrender, outlanders. I will not say it twice," Varo'then commanded.
Rhonin, unwilling to give up, reached into his pocket and pulled out... a small silver knife. (Truly, even in the original War of the Ancients trilogy, the sight of a powerful Archmage pulling a dagger for a brawl was enough to make one laugh. It seems the dream of every mage is to be a melee fighter.)
Varo'then was shocked. The craftsmanship of the knife was Elven. Why did this strange creature have Elven gear? Was he a kinsman of Lord Rhodes? While their builds were similar, Rhodes had black hair, whereas this man's was fiery red. Rhodes's skin was also smoother, while this man looked "coarse," like a barbarian.
Rhonin was frustrated. He had tried to cast a spell, but like Krasus, his magic felt "blocked" or unresponsive. He was forced to rely on the little swordsmanship he knew.
Varo'then signaled his men to capture them alive, suspecting a connection to the Queen's advisor. Krasus, realizing resistance was futile without his magic, surrendered immediately. Rhonin, however, put up a "fierce" resistance with his tiny dagger until a sentry shot it out of his hand and knocked him down with a spinning kick. With a combat effectiveness of roughly five, the "melee mage" was quickly hog-tied.
Meanwhile, the Orc warrior Broxigar had met a similar fate. Having lost his axe during the transit and being weakened by "time-sickness," the green-skinned veteran was also captured. However, he was caught by a patrol from the Sisterhood of Elune, not the Queen's guard. His path diverged toward the Temple of the Moon.
By evening, Rhonin and Krasus were hauled into the capital of Zin-Azshari. Xavius and Azshara were too busy with the portal to care about "strays," so Varo'then reported directly to Rhodes.
Upon hearing the news, Rhodes didn't hesitate. "Bring them to me at once!"
Soon, the bound Krasus and Rhonin were carried into Rhodes's palace. When they saw him, their faces lit up with relief. Rhodes looked at them with a knowing smile; they had all known each other before his "disappearance."
As they opened their mouths to speak, Rhodes silenced them with a sharp, warning glance.