Nazgrel used his hearthstone to return to Azeroth. Before him stretched a field of golden wheat, and the breeze carried the scents of earth and grain into his mind, soothing his formerly anxious heart.
This was Nagrand—once Nagrand in Outland, now part of the Draenor Islands west of the Great Sea.
After retiring, the savior High Shaman Thrall had brought his wife, Agna, to Nagrand to live in seclusion.
Orcs were not skilled at farming. Even High Overlord Varok Saurfang, who had also retired into seclusion, had merely established a boar farm in Durotar.
Thrall was different. He was more like a human and was far more enthusiastic about growing crops on a farm.
Nazgrel crossed the lush wheat fields and found a simple yet incredibly cozy Orc house. Outside it, a strong green-skinned Orc was hammering metal with a blacksmith's hammer.
"Thrall, your farming skills can be called among the best of the Orcs, but your smithing skills are still far behind Brother Rend's." Seeing Thrall, the weight on Nazgrel's heart finally lifted, and he even began teasing his sworn brother.
Thrall did not get angry at the teasing. Instead, he burst into laughter, wiped the faint beads of sweat from his brow, then stood and asked, "Nazgrel, I'm sure you didn't come all this way just to tease me. Did something happen?"
"Yes, Thrall. The Horde needs you. I imagine the elementals have already told you about the Army of the Light from Draenor in another world invading. The Warchief is now leading us in a counterattack on that other Draenor, liberating our homeland."
"But Chieftain Grommash Hellscream of that world has been captured by the Army of the Light. Archbishop Yrel intends to execute Chieftain Grommash, and the Warchief has lost his reason." Nazgrel told Thrall what