"It's all falling apart," Underchief Boraga said, sprawled on the thick furbolg hides that littered the reception hall of Shargha's Stronghold. "What's falling apart?" yawned Chieftain Shargha. He did not bother looking up from the maps sprawled on his campaign table. "The world," Boraga said. "It's all about to tip into the Twisting Nether, you just watch." Boraga was hardly listening. "So we come to Azeroth, and it gets roughed up by undead and demonspawn." "Which," Shargha said, "We won." He looked at a spot on the map, frowned, then reached for a heavy, bound atlas.