The power of nature and life can only be obtained through prayer to Moon Goddess, the Elune mood. Only a very few, like Illidan, can use the power of nature without Elune's help.
The power of the Well of Eternity, however, is limitless and inexhaustible.
A simple comparison will reveal which is superior.
Not all Night Elves are intelligent. Because the power of the Well of Eternity was obtained too easily, they did not know how to cherish it and instead became interested in the power of the Moon Goddess.
By the time they realized they'd been tricked, they were already too deeply involved, and there was no turning back.
Broxigar is no Night Elf; he's fought alongside the Burning Legion for ten thousand years and has seen it all.
All worldly splendor is fleeting; only strength truly matters.
Broxigar is a typical advocate of the strong ruling class.
He attempted to obtain the magic of the Well of Eternity, but it was clear that the Well of Eternity was not friendly to the Orcs's soul.
The only other explanation is the power of Moon Goddess. Broxigar, who traveled from ten thousand years ago, foresaw the future of the Night Elves. Ultimately, Elune defeated Queen Azshara, causing the Night Elves to regress from their position as the rulers of the world to the Stone Age.
The power of nature and life is strong enough, but the feeling of being choked by the Elune is unpleasant.
Broxigar had his own ideas; he longed for a very familiar and powerful force comparable to the Well of Eternity: Fel.
Unfortunately, this body is too weak; he needs a large and strong body to withstand more of the Fel.
"Tyrande."
Broxigar roared rudely. He had figured out the temperament of these Moon Goddess Priest; the fiercer his attitude, the more obsequious they became.
Sure enough, Tyrande's expression became extremely obsequious; she almost knelt down and said in a fawning tone:
"Your Excellency, the divine Emissary, your glory shines like the stars. What are your commands?"
Broxigar grinned, his eyes lingering on Tyrande's delicate skin. This reminded Tyrande of the days she was torn apart by Orcs, filling her with terror and causing her to tremble and break out in a cold sweat. She thought to herself, "What should I do if Broxigar wants to eat me?"
Fortunately, Broxigar did not make this request; he said with a ferocious expression:
"I need some manpower, capable guards or Priests, who will obey my orders unconditionally. The Moon Goddess has commanded me to do something very important."
Broxigar effortlessly conveyed the false oracle of the Moon Goddess.
Tyrande's heart pounded, and she finally breathed a sigh of relief, quickly replying, "Emissary Excellency, as you wish, I will send you the most powerful guards from the Temple of the Moon."
Cenarius's residence by the tranquil lake.
Krasus and Rhonin sat on the grass, gnawing on some kind of unpalatable plant root, their faces as bitter as the taste of the root itself.
Opposite him was an ornate wooden table, beside which Cenarius stood earnestly instructing:
"The power of the Druid lies in Consecration; the more Consecration, the more they receive."
On the table sat a whole roasted cow, its golden-brown meat crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, exuding a wonderful aroma. It was coated with a thick layer of honey inside and out. Cenarius devoured the roasted meat and sipped the finest rose liqueur.
Clearly, Cenarius had had enough of Krasus and Rhonin's betrayal and had no intention of pretending anymore.
"Because you don't understand the Consecration, you lose everything." Cenarius chewed on roasted meat and said devoutly, "The great Moon Goddess treats her believers with utmost fairness. Take Broxigar, for example. He Consecration to Moon Goddess and was rewarded, becoming a noble Emissary."
Speaking of Brooks, Krasus and Rhonin were both indignant. Why did a savage Orcs become Emissary? It was truly inexplicable. But circumstances were beyond their control, and the dragon and the man could only bury their doubts in their hearts.
"Well said, you petty and despicable Cenarius, the core of the Druid's Path lies in Consecration."
Cenarius. He turned around angrily and saw his disciple Malfurion, followed by more than a dozen guards from the Temple of the Moon.
No, the newcomer's eyes glowed red, and that Evil expression was not the familiar Malfurion at all. The Fel aura allowed Cenarius to recognize the soul within this body.
"Are you the Emissary, Brooks?" Cenarius asked in surprise.
Brooks laughed heartily, shoved Cenarius aside without any ceremony, grabbed a piece of roast meat from the table and put it in his mouth, then picked up Cenarius's treasured rose liqueur and gulped it down his throat.
Cenarius frowned slightly, feeling sorry for his wine. He was of noble status, the Legendary Legitimate Son of the Elune and the White Stag Malorne, the son of a god. The Emissary could only be considered servants of the son of a god.
However, Brooks didn't take him seriously at all, which made Cenarius somewhat uneasy. He secretly prayed to the Elune, but Elune didn't always respond in time, Cenarius at a loss.
Brooks ate most of the roast beef, burped contentedly, and then gave Cenarius a sly look.
With enormous antlers, an upper body like Night Elf, and a lower body like a deer, its body structure can be altered with sufficient energy. On this basis, it can completely transform into a powerful Pit Lord.
Brooks gave a gloomy smile:
"Shameless Cenarius, you are the most lowly being in the world. The Druid's Path lies in Consecration, and I, the Emissary, need a body strong enough. Your body barely satisfies me. For the great Moon Goddess, for the Druid's Path, Consecration your lowly body, Cenarius."
Upon hearing Cenarius's anger flared, and he could no longer contain himself. He roared, "Brooks, do you know what you're saying? My son of Elune, how dare you lay eyes on my body! No one can save you!"
"Ha ha!"
Brooks laughed arrogantly, revealing a cruel expression:
"Then let's take a gamble and see if your mother is willing to save you. Don't overestimate yourself; you're just a bastard, and the Moon Goddess won't care about you."
Brooks' confidence stemmed from the fact that, ten thousand years later, after Cenarius was murdered, the Moon Goddess not only failed to protect her beloved son, but also did not unleash her wrath to avenge him even after his death.
Therefore, Brooks speculates that either Cenarius's claim of being the son of the Moon Goddess is self-aggrandizement, something he boasted about himself, or Elune simply doesn't care about this son at all.
Cenarius trembled with rage and roared, "Brooks, this is blasphemy against the Moon Goddess! You are offending a god! You are walking a dangerous path!"
"To gain power, one must take risks." Brooks gazed at the Moonwell beside the cabin.
The power of the Moonwell is truly magical. Under the moonlight, it fills with water every night, possessing powerful healing properties that can revive even those on the verge of death.
I have a small goal.
Brooks chuckled and glared at Cenarius, saying menacingly:
"I will hang you beside the Moonwell, and every day I will cut off half of your flesh with a knife to roast and eat. Then I will soak your body in the Moonwell to heal your wounds. Either your mother, the Moon Goddess, will save you, or you will not be able to bear it and will give up this body voluntarily. I know you Wild God; you can survive even in a soul state."
Cenarius was terrified. Brooks waved his hand, and the dozen or so Moon Goddess Guards hesitated for a moment. Between the terrifying Orcs and the weak Cenarius, they chose Brooks.
Cenarius was performing acrobatics, was no match for the guards and was quickly captured.
Beside the Moonwell stood a tall wooden frame, with Cenarius hanging upside down, his head below the Moonwell. Brooks, holding a sharp dagger, was slicing pieces of flesh from Cenarius's body.
Cenarius's agonizing howl echoed through the forest.