Orunok

Even those familiar with Shadowmoon Valley fall into the misconception that this land can only produce herbs with strange magical properties, and nothing else. However, on the northernmost mountain peak of Shadowmoon Valley, near the Twisted Void Nether—the most inconspicuous place—grows abundantly water-saturated Shadowmoon Tuber —these wondrous plants are not natural. An elderly Orcs with gray hair lives in seclusion there. He has only three things to do each day: dig for tubers, tame wild boars, and deal with the Stone-Gnawer —humanoid mantis-like creatures that attack the boars.

The Orcs's name was Orunok Heartbreaker, a warlock skilled in demonic Warlock, though he hadn't used that power for many years, causing his skin to change from dark green to light green. Orunok was overjoyed by this change, believing it to be a result of distancing himself from Fel magic. He was thrilled, seeing it as proof of his redemption.

Life in Shadowmoon Valley was not easy, but he survived. He did not succumb to the demons, nor did he seek refuge with Illidan Stormrage. He found a settlement on the edge of the continent, built a simple tent with a dried animal hide, and surrounded it with a fence to allow him to graze wild boars—his main source of food.

Orunok had three sons, but none of them were by his side; only his mount, a howling wolf named Darkhowl, accompanied him. His sons had all been sent on a mission. Before they departed, Orunok told them that the mission was extremely dangerous, and they might die, but it was the best way for Orcs to atone for their past mistakes, and their souls would be forgiven by their ancestors.

After the three children left, the Orcs lived alone. Day after day, he lost track of how much time had passed.

Today, Orunok, as usual, brought a wild boar to the cliffside area near the edge of Shadowmoon Valley outside his dwelling. It was a dangerous place; a single misstep could send him plummeting into the abyss of the Twisted Void. But only in such harsh conditions could he gather the Shadowmoon Tuber to feed the boar. He had to be careful, for danger lurked not only in the terrain but also in the shadows—a lesson learned from his more than ten years of seclusion.

Orunok whistled, and his boar, responding to the sound, grunted and began searching the dry ground, digging with its hooves as it went. The Orcs followed behind, waiting patiently.

A crisis was also quietly approaching.

Some pebbles tumbled down the cliff, disappearing after a brief tumble. What caused this small change? It couldn't be the wind. There's no wind in Shadowmoon Valley!

The Orcs held his staff in front of him and shouted at his surroundings, "Come out, you beasts!" Orunok was all too familiar with this sound; it was only made when the Stone-Gnawer's claws dug tunnels.

Several holes were instantly blasted open in the soil, and six or seven Stone-Gnawer jumped out, baring their teeth and glaring at Orunok and his precious wild boar.

"So many!" the Orcs exclaimed in shock. He regretted not bringing Darkhowl along today, as he couldn't possibly handle these greedy predators alone.

Orunok's boar had just unearthed a tuber hidden underground and, before it could even enjoy it, was terrified by the uninvited guests. The Orcs made peculiar sounds to soothe it. In truth, Orunok could have easily abandoned the boar, for it was the Stone-Gnawer's real target. But for an Orcs, to flee in the face of battle was shameful; moreover, if he yielded even a step, these hunters would surely press their advantage and attack his hideout for more boar meat.

Unbeknownst to him, Orunok felt his blood heating up, and his hands gradually regaining strength. The Orcs was deeply uneasy; he tried to steady his breathing and heartbeat, something he had done for over a decade. Orunok swore he would never again use demonic power, ever!

"Come on!" the Orcs roared. One of the Stone-Gnawer charged forward, leaping into the air and raising his scythe-like right hand to sweep at Orunok's head. The Orcs deftly dodged, simultaneously raising his staff to strike the Stone-Gnawer in the abdomen and throwing him backward. The unfortunate fellow plummeted off the cliff and vanished into the Twisted Void.

The Stone-Gnawer, seeing their companion vanish, did not retreat. A second one charged forward, waving his claws wildly and slowing his pace to try and limit Orunok's movement. The Orcs grinned, staring at the enemy's hollow abdomen, patiently waiting for him to approach.

"Go to hell!" Orunok thrust his staff forward, and the reckless Stone-Gnawer stumbled back several steps in pain. The Orcs gave him no chance, swinging his staff back with all his might and smashing it down on the man's head; the sound of bones cracking could even be heard.

With another one taken down, Orunok couldn't help but smile, but the price was that it drove the remaining Stone-Gnawer even more berserk. They charged forward together, determined to tear their meal to pieces. The Orcs had anticipated this possibility; once the Stone-Gnawer swarmed him, he would find it difficult to gain any advantage in melee combat.

At this moment, Orunok had only one thought in his mind. His hand trembled as he reached for the cloth bag at his waist, which contained something that could save his life. However, the Orcs was unwilling to use it. He didn't even want to remember that he was a Warlock, the same kind of person as the one who led the Orcs clan down a twisted path.

The thought of Gul'dan made Orunok retract his hand in disgust; he would rather die than use demonic power again.

The Orcs roared and charged, deflecting a barb with his weapon. The staff shattered in the middle, becoming even more lethal. Orunok plunged one of the protruding spikes into the neck of a Stone-Gnawer, then smashed the face of another nearby creature with his fist. But in doing so, his back and right leg were more or less scratched by the Stone-Gnawer's claws.

"You bunch of scum!" Orunok spat, forced back by the pincer attack, not even noticing he was already pushed to the edge of a cliff. One of the Orcs lost his footing, instantly losing his balance and plummeting down. After a few panicked cries, Orunok hurriedly grabbed onto a protruding rock in the strata to steady himself.

Gazing at the gap between Hellfire Peninsula and Shadowmoon Valley from the land, below lay a bottomless abyss, but all Orunok saw was a vast expanse of white. The Orcs didn't know what would happen if he fell, nor did he want to. If he were to die, he wanted to die in this world that had once been called Draenor.

"Pull me up, you bastards!" the Orcs shouted at the Stone-Gnawer above. "Come and save your spoils, at least my blood can be spilled on this land when you tear me apart!" He sighed, already thinking about how he would beg his ancestors for forgiveness if he met them after he died.

Just when he thought the Stone-Gnawer would soon use their claws to lift him up, he heard the sounds of fighting. Orunok glared upwards through gritted teeth, unable to see what was happening. Did these guys want to torture him again? Or were they fighting over their hard-won food? Upon reflection, Orunok thought the latter was more likely; if the Stone-Gnawer were united enough, he wouldn't have killed three of his companions.

However, things seemed to go beyond his expectations. Soon, the first guy competing for food fell from above and almost hit the Orcs.

"What is this?" Orunok cursed. He looked down and confirmed that the one who had fallen was the very creature he had punched earlier. The Orcs found it strange; even if they were after food, they wouldn't harm their own kind.

Then the second, and the third, fell down. The first had one of its hands severed, and the second was headless. The Orcs looked up nervously as the last Stone-Gnawer flew overhead with a terrified, piercing scream before plummeting into the abyss.

Orunok stared incredulously at the spot where the poor fellow had disappeared.

The question remains: what exactly happened?

Give me your hand.

A voice came from above him, Orcs hurriedly looked up, hoping to see another Orcs, someone who had come to his rescue. But the other's terrifying red eyes almost made him slip and drop his grip.

This was not an Orcs, but a dead man. Orunok had seen such a being many years ago.