Azshara: I Raised the Price

The routed Druid army fled to the rear like trees snapped by a gale, utterly bedraggled. Bereft of the protection of a demigod and the command of their general, the power of nature they had once been so proud of seemed pitifully feeble in the face of absolute terror.

Fortunately, the Watcher forces established a defensive line behind them. These fearless elite warriors used deadly glaives and devious traps to temporarily halt the Orcs' frenzied pursuit, buying the routed troops precious time to catch their breath and sparing them the fate of total annihilation.

Yet the collapse of the spirit ran far deeper than the wounds of the flesh.

Malfurion Stormrage did not return to Tyrande's temporary camp. The immense humiliation, the pain of losing his forces, and the profound grief of losing his demigod mentor nearly crushed the Archdruid completely.

He was too ashamed to face Tyrande, and even more ashamed to face the Druid forces who had trusted him. In a daze bordering on self-imposed exile, he transformed into a storm crow and flew straight back to his quiet cave deep within Mount Hyjal. Without leaving behind a single order, he buried his head deep in the sands of the Emerald Dream like an ostrich, trying to escape the cruelty of reality through eternal slumber.

A small number of Druids most loyal to him, likewise unable to accept reality, followed him away and chose prolonged hibernation. It was as though closing their eyes would make all the conflict, defeat, and danger outside disappear on their own.

Truly: the outside world was too dangerous. He wanted to go back to his cave.

Most of the surviving Druids, however, finally saw reality clearly after enduring this tragedy born of arrogance and ending in ruin. Silent and ashamed, they gathered at