Orgrimmar, Horde Council Chamber. The shaman most trusted by Warchief Thrall was reporting something to him.
"Are you certain it was the Stonetalon Mountains?"
"Yes, the Stonetalon Mountains. The fluctuations were obvious, and the power was strong. We need to send someone to investigate."
"All right. If you think it's necessary, I trust you. Broxigar!"
"I'm here, Warchief."
"You and Gask will go investigate."
"By your command, Warchief."
The Stonetalon Mountains were barren everywhere, without a trace of green in sight. Occasionally, an eagle would circle the mountaintops a few times, but beyond that, there was scarcely any sign of life. A winding road split the entire mountain range in two. Viewed from the sky, the Stonetalon Mountains looked like a terrible scar carved across a beautiful arm. The winding road bore obvious signs of artificial excavation. It had once been a masterpiece of the Kaldorei, bearing witness to their glorious magical civilization. Now, after ten thousand years, it had grown old and decayed, barely passable. At the end of the road appeared two figures: Broxigar and Gask, who had been sent out on this assignment. Their travel-worn appearance made it easy to imagine just how arduous the journey had been.
Broxigar looked silent and subdued, none of the excitement from when he had set out remaining. He had thought this would be a dangerous mission. He was a Warrior, unafraid of danger by nature. He liked danger and looked forward to challenges; the harder the challenge, the more excited he became. But he had been disappointed. It had been a peaceful journey. The other Orc, Gask, Broxigar's disciple, was just as disappointed as his Teacher. Young and eager to make a name for himself, Gask had initially looked down on an investigation mission like this. But out of respect