Stormrage and the Orcs

The Night Elves couldn't care less about what was happening in Pandaria. Even if they learned of that Jinyu sage's prophecy of the future, they would just laugh it off as the ravings of a senile old madman.

Come on—the Night Elves now dominated the continent, the boundless power of the Well of Eternity was theirs to command, the people were united as one, their relationship with the Dragon Aspects was excellent, they had the blessings of the God of Magic Sarodar and the Moon Goddess Elune above, the glory of the Light of Lights Queen Azshara below, and the Forest Demi-god teaching their people to harness the forces of nature.

Disaster? What disaster?

We are the favored of the gods! We are invincible!

Alright, if you put yourself in the Night Elves' shoes, considering the current state of the world, their thinking made a lot of sense.

Speaking of harnessing nature's power, the Forest Demi-god Cenarius had been deeply troubled lately. The problem, of course, lay with his two most prized Druid apprentices.

The Stormrage brothers possessed immense potential and talent. If they devoted themselves to study, in time they would surely become the first great Druids among the Night Elves.

And the elder brother Malfurion was indeed doing just that. He held Cenarius, his teacher, in the highest respect, was greatly interested in sensing nature's power, and always communed with nature with a reverent heart.

Malfurion's progress was swift, and Cenarius was very satisfied with his chief apprentice, deciding to soon teach him how to enter the Emerald Dream.

As for the younger brother Illidan... well, this young, impatient apprentice had even more potential than his brother Malfurion, with an exceptionally sharp mind that often drew inferences and made innovative breakthroughs.

But he just couldn't get into Druidism and the way of nature!

Illidan envied and craved magic. He longed to master vast Arcane energy like the Highborne and become a respected Court Archmage.

So Cenarius could easily see that Illidan's heart was not here at all—it had already flown to the capital Eldorei, to the Highborne city of Suramar.

And the reason he still stayed here studying under the Forest Demi-god wasn't out of respect for this ancient demigod, nor because of his brother's persuasion. The only reason was a childhood friend named Tyrande Whisperwind.

Tyrande had said: "I want you to stay here, like Malfurion, and study the way of nature, instead of touching those dangerous Arcane energies."

Alright, that was enough.

Tyrande's single word was worth ten thousand from Cenarius and Malfurion combined.

The fearless, lovesick young Illidan immediately dropped his thoughts of leaving and obediently continued studying Druidism.

And that was the very reason for Cenarius's deepest worry.

As the shared childhood friend of both brothers, Malfurion liked Tyrande, Illidan liked Tyrande too, and Tyrande... well, alright, she probably liked Malfurion more.

The three-way relationship was a tangled mess. The brothers competed with each other, though it stayed within the bounds of brotherly affection.

Even though Illidan stayed, he still kept a constant eye on Arcane magic and the latest news from the magical world.

"The mage group in Suramar has developed a brand-new form of Arcane release that can increase the power of Arcane Missiles by several percentage points!"

"That God of Magic, Sarodar—I heard he only communicates with a select few Chosen Ones and grants them divine power. I'd love to know what it feels like to wield divine power..."

"Elisande? Promoted to the High Council of Suramar? Who is she? There's no one by that name in the Sunstrider family, is there?"

Well, when it came to the latest in the Arcane world, Illidan's knowledge far surpassed his understanding of nature's way.

When Malfurion could summon over a dozen Treants at once, Illidan couldn't even cast a single Moonfire. His teacher Cenarius often looked helplessly at this impatient young man as he spammed Wrath—the only basic Druid spell he had mastered.

But that shouldn't be the case. With Illidan's talent and potential, even if he wasn't studious, this pace was far too slow, wasn't it?

To that, Illidan just shrugged, looking unconcerned, and every night he continued to hole up in his own house, doing who knows what in secret.

Illidan had never stopped studying Arcane magic. He was extremely dedicated and focused, secretly practicing every night. By now, he was less a Druid and more a self-taught Arcane apprentice making rapid progress.

Besides studying magic, what made Illidan happiest was when Tyrande got leave from the Temple of the Moon and came to visit him and his brother.

Watching Tyrande's every move, Illidan would often freeze, staring dumbly at the female elf.

But Tyrande wasn't looking at him. She was chatting happily with Malfurion, asking in detail about his experiences and interesting stories while studying Druidism.

Was his persistence really wrong? As a Priestess of the Moon, and the entire Temple of the Moon for that matter, their attitude toward the Highborne and Arcane magic had always been lukewarm.

"The Highborne love luxury and pleasure. They abuse magic and always look down on commoners. I don't like them."

Whenever Illidan recalled Tyrande's assessment, he would always question his own secret actions.

But... having power was the only way to protect one's people, to protect the one you loved. Wasn't that what mattered most? Otherwise, what was the point of protection and responsibility?

The Druids' nature power was too slow, and that power itself wasn't strong enough!

What use was summoning Treants? A pile of walking firewood? Better to summon a group of Arcane Golems—their lethality was incomparably greater.

How could a Forest Demi-god compare to a God of Magic? That was a real Titan!

But thoughts like these, Illidan only dared to think in secret.

Just then, a commotion of noise interrupted Illidan's daze. Snapping back to reality, he quickened his pace to catch up with Malfurion and Tyrande.

"What's wrong?"

No answer was needed, because Illidan immediately saw the reason.

In the central square of the town sat an extremely sturdy iron cage, surrounded by seven or eight soldiers. Judging by the style of their armor, they should be Lord Ravencrest's personal guards.

The key was the creature locked inside the cage. Illidan had never seen such a beast before.

He had green skin, tusks jutting from his mouth like a troll's, an immensely powerful build, and muscles so solid they seemed ready to burst.

His ears were pointed, like an elf's, and a gray-white ponytail was tied at the back of his head.

This strange beast seemed listless at the moment, slumped in the cage, eyes closed, not moving, with clear water and fruit set before him.

"What is this beast... Tyrande! Don't go near—be careful, it might lash out and hurt you!"

Seeing Tyrande push through the crowd and approach the cage, Illidan immediately tensed up, rushing forward as well while secretly gathering Arcane energy, vigilant of every move this green beast made.

"Relax, my brother. I can sense that this creature holds no malice or hostility."

Malfurion stepped forward and patted Illidan on the shoulder.

The soldiers beside the cage saw Tyrande and did not block her, instead saluting.

For a group like the Priestess of the Moon, who healed the wounded and saved the dying without asking for anything in return, both commoners and soldiers held the utmost respect.

Tyrande crouched by the cage, slowly reaching her hand inside, placing it on the green beast's thick, sturdy arm. A gentle wave of Moonlight Energy then enveloped the creature, soothing his mind, dispelling his fatigue, and healing his still-unhealed wounds.

Brox opened his eyes, calmly gazing at the Night Elf tending to him.

An orc receiving treatment from an elf—how ironic.

But as a Champion of the Horde, he had to respect this "shaman," even if she was an Alliance.

Now, he had to figure out what had happened to him and what had become of the patrol companions he had led.

He had to... return to Orgrimmar and report to Warchief Thrall.

"Thank you, elven shaman."

Feeling his vitality restored, Brox spoke in Orcish, which Tyrande could not understand at all, then thumped his chest heavily a few times.

Tyrande paused. Though she could not comprehend what the creature said, she immediately understood that his gesture was a form of thanks.

"He is not a beast. He has intelligence, and he should not be locked in a cage."

Tyrande stood up and spoke to the guards.

The elven soldiers looked helpless.

"Honored Priestess, this is Lord Ravencrest's order. We can only obey. This beast... er, this creature, was captured in the forest outside Black Rook Hold, where an immensely violent, unknown energy fluctuation occurred at the time."

"Let's go, Tyrande. This is all the help we can give him."

Illidan shook his head, uninterested in this strange green being.

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