This is Coldarra, one of the nesting place of the blue dragonflight, an island off the southwestern coast of Northrend. Cold and forbidding, outsiders are almost never welcomed by the watchful flights of drakes that patrol the skies. In the center stands the Nexus, one of the largest confluence of leylines in the worlds. The blues use its power for their mightiest enchantments and deepest spell research, and to guard their most dangerous relics.

At the foot of the Nexus, one of the eggkeepers notices his charges are close to hatching. He calls to the sentries and has them double the patrols for manawyrms in the area. It would certainly not do for the whelps to be drained before they can hatch. Once those are in place, he sends a message to the broodmother and begins inscribing the sigils that will swirl the ambient mana in the patterns most conducive to a healthy hatchling. The broodmother arrives as he finishes, touching down and shifting into her elven form, pale-skinned with long blue hair, in order to get closer to the eggs.

"Almost certainly a dragon-whelp among these, Broodmother," he reports.

    "Oh, wonderful!" she cries. "I love you all, you know, but I have been so looking forward to another drake. How much longer?"

"Very soon, I think. Look, that one's cracking."

    "Come to mama, darling," she coos, holding out her arms. "Come here, come here."

This is Coldarra, one of the nesting places of the blue dragonflight, an island off the southwestern coast of Northrend. Cold and forbidding, outsiders are almost never welcomed by the watchful flights of drakes that patrol the skies. In the center stands the Nexus, one of the largest confluence of leylines in the worlds. The blues use its power for their mightiest enchantments and deepest spell research, and to guard their most dangerous relics.

At the foot of the Nexus, one of the eggkeepers notices his charges are close to hatching. He calls to the sentries and has them double the patrols for manawyrms in the area. It would certainly not do for the whelps to be drained before they can hatch. Once those are in place, he sends a message to the broodmother and begins inscribing the sigils that will swirl the ambient mana in the patterns most conducive to a healthy hatchling. The broodmother arrives as he finishes, touching down and shifting into her elven form, pale-skinned with long blue hair, in order to get closer to the eggs.

"Almost certainly a dragon-whelp among these, Broodmother," he reports.

    "Oh, wonderful!" she cries. "I love you all, you know, but I have been so looking forward to another drake. How much longer?"

"Very soon, I think. Look, that one's cracking."

    "Come to mama, darling," she coos, holding out her arms. "Come here, come here."