Dwarves were Gengzhi, but that did not mean they were stupid. They clearly distinguished between kindness and grudges, and King Magni still acknowledged the debt he owed Patrick for saving a life.
"At the time, I was simply in a hurry to destroy the Old God Yogg-Saron, who was hiding among the mountains of the Storm Peaks. I saw some Dwarves locked in a fierce battle and happened to save them along the way."
"Thank you for your selflessness. If you ever need anything in the future, Lord Cabrolon, Ironforge will spare no effort." King Magni's expression remained solemn, but he had also realized something: the High Elf before him had actually led a small team against an Old God on his own, and they had successfully eliminated the threat.
Of the two Wars of the Shifting Sands, the first had inflicted enormous losses on the Night Elves, the mightiest race in Azeroth. Without the Dragonflight's full participation and Elune's blessing, whether they could have sealed the Temple of Ahn'Qiraj was still in question.
The second War of the Shifting Sands had left the Night Elves overwhelmed. In the end, only by having the races of the entire continent set aside their mutual hatred and stake everything on the fight had they managed to storm the Temple of Ahn'Qiraj and kill that avatar of C'Thun.
Yet this time, Patrick had stormed Ulduar alone, bringing only Illidan, Maiev, and a few others. King Magni could not imagine what kind of power that represented.
Patrick could not help laughing. The Arcane Pact had the Wildhammer Dwarves, who could do whatever the Bronzebeard Dwarves could. At the very least, Quel'Thalas also had master smiths skilled in the forging that Dwarves excelled at. But as for needing something, perhaps there was one matter he