Ner'zhul had always been conceited. When it came to knowledge and strategy, he considered himself one of the three greatest chieftains in the Shadowmoon Clan's history.
Of course, when it came to muscles and physique, he was indisputably number one.
Orcs were a race that prized muscle, and Ner'zhul was one of the few exceptions.
Over the long years, the Shadowmoon Clan had gained wisdom by observing the stars. Ner'zhul had inherited his ancestors' knowledge and surpassed them, gaining the ability to communicate with spirits.
In the matter of the Dark Star, Chieftain Ner'zhul had communicated with the spirits of his ancestors and stayed a step ahead at every turn, thoroughly defeating Prophet Velen and maintaining a firm hold on the initiative.
As a result, Velen had been forced to sacrifice himself to salvage the situation and save the Draenei of Shadowmoon Valley.
By rights, the Dark Star was the dark Naaru K'ara, and the Naaru and Draenei were extremely close.
Perhaps Velen had grown old and his memory had failed him. Somehow, he had forgotten something so important and only recalled what had happened after Ner'zhul took action.
At the Truna Observatory, Ner'zhul clutched the scrap of paper, delighted.
The Shadowmoon Clan had observed the Dark Star for many years, and successive chieftains had shown a keen interest in the celestial body that radiated shadow energy. Communicating with the Dark Star and gaining its power had always been the Shadowmoon Clan's dream.
The Iron Horde was pressing too hard. If the Shadowmoon Clan couldn't show some real strength, it would only be absorbed by its own people, or even destroyed.
Forced by circumstances, Ner'zhul, who had intended to proceed gradually, had no choice but to take a desperate gamble.
His ancestors' wish was about to be fulfilled, and Ner'zhul could barely contain his excitement. The Truna Observatory was naturally the best place to communicate with the Dark Star, so he loudly recited the "incantation" on the paper.
"I just won't tell you, I just won't tell you."
His voice rang out loud and clear, rising and falling with emphasis.
Silence followed for quite a while.
Chieftain Ner'zhul looked utterly bewildered. Why wasn't there any response?
"Chieftain Ner'zhul, you've got it wrong," Robbie said, stepping forward.
"Nothing can stump the great chieftain of the Shadowmoon Clan," Ner'zhul roared, declaring conceitedly, "I would never get the incantation wrong."
"Chieftain Ner'zhul, this incantation isn't spoken. It's sung." Robbie demonstrated in person. "Follow my tune: I just won't tell you, I just won't tell you."
"A sung incantation?" Ner'zhul thought of the Shamans' war songs and figured the principle should be much the same, so he sang along. "I just won't tell you, I just won't tell you."
"Yes, that's it."
By then, Yrel had rescued her older sister Samara and sent her out of the Truna Observatory. Several trapped Draenei stargazers still needed rescuing.
Robbie knew he needed to stall for time. "Chieftain Ner'zhul, you must sing it with deep meaning and genuine feeling. Only then will the Dark Star respond."
Even Velen hadn't known about the Dark Star, yet Robbie had named it in a single sentence.
Ner'zhul immediately regarded Robbie with greater respect.
Incantations often required a special tone, and particularly complicated ones also needed hand gestures, dance steps, and the like. Although Chieftain Ner'zhul didn't trust Robbie, he believed his ancestors' guidance couldn't be wrong.
"I just won't tell you, I just won't tell you."
Ner'zhul sang it over and over. Though it had no effect for the moment, he wouldn't give up easily.
He thought Robbie must be hiding something, and that there should be other elements besides the tune, so he began performing a Shaman's dance steps as he sang.
The doors to the Truna Observatory opened, and six Alliance members filed in.
All six were splendidly dressed and carried themselves with distinction. In the center stood a shapely human female Holy Priest, flanked by a female Dwarf Paladin, a male Gnome Discipline Priest, a male Draenei Shaman, a male Worgen Druid, and a female Pandaren Monk.
They wore identical badges on their chests, each bearing a white dove with an olive branch in its beak.
After learning that something had happened at the Truna Observatory, the Peace Dove's six Council of Six members in Embaari Village had hurried back. They had expected a great battle, but instead they saw...
The human female Holy Priest recognized Robbie at once. Everyone in Lunarfall knew of Defiler Kapol. On top of that, the Peace Dove worshipped Thrall almost as a god, and rumor had it that Robbie had defeated Thrall, thereby defiling their god. As a result, they hated Robbie to the bone.
"This is bad. Chieftain Ner'zhul and Defiler Kapol have joined forces. They're so close they're singing together." The human female Holy Priest Carola was the leader of the six. They had come to assist Ner'zhul, but hadn't expected to see this.
"Carola, what should we do?" the female Dwarf Paladin asked worriedly.
The Peace Dove had done everything it could to curry favor with the Shadowmoon Clan, but Ner'zhul had remained wary and barely paid them any attention. How had Defiler Kapol won Ner'zhul's friendship?
Carola's eyes flickered as she struggled to make up her mind.
Robbie spotted the six newcomers, and his heart sank.
The Peace Dove had a terrible reputation among Alliance adventurers. Its members were the sort everyone hated, who would be sapped if they went out alone and would wake up the next day certain to find a part or two missing.
But they wielded enormous power, and the forces behind them were too vast. No adventurer dared confront them openly.
"Why is this happening? Why is this happening?" Ner'zhul had tried many different singing styles, along with all kinds of hand gestures and dance steps, but still hadn't managed to communicate with the Dark Star.
Ner'zhul was burning with rage, his face dark, and he had already begun to suspect something.
Robbie felt he needed to give the orc chieftain some confidence and buy more time.
"Chieftain Ner'zhul, I don't think this incantation is complete." Robbie pretended to ponder, his brows knitted. After a long while, he said, "I remember now. The complete incantation should go like this: horns on the head, a tail behind, I just won't tell you, I just won't tell you."
Chieftain Ner'zhul took a deep breath, his expression unusually grave, and began to think.
Horns on the head, a tail behind. Could it be a Pit Lord?
Pit Lords were demonic generals of the Burning Legion, terrifying creatures of enormous size.
Orcs had a close relationship with Pit Lords; one could even say they were bound by fate. In World of Warcraft's main storyline, it was precisely because they drank the blood of the Pit Lord Mannoroth that the orcs became a savage, warlike race.
In this timeline, Warsong Clan chieftain Grom Hellscream had refused to drink the blood and killed Mannoroth with a single blow of his axe. With a cry of "Orcs will never be slaves," he had ushered in the Warlords of Draenor chapter.
Still, after the orcs of Draenor became the Iron Horde, they were just as savage, warlike, bloodthirsty, and quick to anger. So whether they drank Comrade Mannoroth's blood or not didn't actually make much difference.
Ner'zhul suddenly understood. This must be an incantation passed down from a Pit Lord?
"Haha, foolish human, don't think you can deceive me! I, the wise chieftain, have seen through everything. No one can deceive the great chieftain of the Shadowmoon Clan."
Damn, I've been found out. Robbie thought things were about to go wrong. Yrel hadn't finished rescuing everyone yet.
Ner'zhul stared at Robbie with a ferocious, mocking expression:
"The real incantation should go like this: horns on the head, a tail behind, wings on the back, I just won't tell you, I just won't tell you. You're just a puny human, and you dare overestimate yourself and try to deceive me? Don't think I don't know that Pit Lords have wings."
All right, then.
Robbie quietly breathed a sigh of relief, deeply impressed by Ner'zhul's ability to fill in the blanks himself.
"You lot, come over here too." Ner'zhul beckoned to the six Peace Dove members at the door. "Sing and dance with me, and we'll communicate with the Dark Star together."
The six Peace Dove members wanted to refuse but didn't dare. As they hesitated, Ner'zhul roared and glared at them. "No one dares refuse the great Chieftain Ner'zhul!"
The Peace Dove had been in secret contact with the Shadowmoon Clan to sow discord between the Alliance and the Draenei and, at the same time, pressure Velen and pave the way for the Horde to enter Shadowmoon Valley. They had no genuine intention of cooperating with the Shadowmoon Clan, but matters had come to this, and they had no choice but to grit their teeth and go along.
Under Ner'zhul's direction, the six sang and danced, all while pretending to be happy. Chieftain Ner'zhul had a bad temper, and the slightest displeasure brought his staff down on them.
The leader of the six, the human Priest Carola, was beautiful and sang well.
But Ner'zhul thought her singing wasn't rough enough and didn't suit the orcish style. She suffered quite a few blows from his staff, and her eyes brimmed with tears, almost spilling over.
"Sing, sing! Sing properly! When the Dark Star descends, we shall all be kings."
After all that effort, they were working together quite well, but there was still no sign of any hope of communicating with the Dark Star.
Carola finally couldn't take it anymore and pleaded, "Chieftain Ner'zhul, could you let me look upon the revelation from the Shadowmoon Clan's ancestors?"
Ner'zhul had been suspicious all along, and as time passed, his doubts only grew.
He took out the scrap of paper and handed it to Carola. She didn't see anything amiss and passed it to the Dwarf Paladin, who frowned, hesitated, and passed it to the Gnome Discipline Priest.
The little Gnome was more straightforward and cried in a shrill voice, "Chieftain Ner'zhul, you've been tricked! The ink on this hasn't even dried yet."
Ner'zhul hastily snatched the paper back. One look was enough to send him into a rage. His eyes turned red, and he raised his staff and smashed the poor Gnome's head in with a single blow.
"No one can laugh at the great chieftain of the Shadowmoon Clan."
An enraged orc was a terrifying sight. Ner'zhul's muscles rippled, and his body grew considerably larger. He turned to glare at Robbie and let out a furious battle cry.
"All right, I admit it. I wrote that note."
Robbie shrugged and spread his hands as he spoke indifferently.
Yrel had rescued the trapped Draenei. Samara and five Draenei stargazers stood behind her, glaring at Ner'zhul and the Peace Dove.
The Draenei of Shadowmoon Valley hadn't known the truth about the Peace Dove. Out of goodwill toward the Alliance, they had kindly offered the Truna Observatory to its members as a place to live.
They had never expected the Peace Dove to turn on them, seize the Draenei stargazers, and bring Ner'zhul there. Betrayal was what the Draenei hated most.
The shadow demon summoned earlier had shrunk to nearly half its size. Robbie didn't know what Vanessa had done. The shadow demon was under control now, so there was no need to worry about it.
"Yrel, you deal with the Peace Dove. I'll seek Chieftain Ner'zhul's guidance."
Robbie spoke with complete confidence.