Chapter 1
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The battle raged on as the night fell. The dranei had changed. The enemies the orcs fought were not those they had peaceful traded with a month before. The dranei had turned into manari, the twisted beings. Also called da'emons in the ancient language. The dranei were now demons. The orcs knew not how the dranei had changed but only that the dranei, their former allies, were now their sworn enemy.
As the night settled, the darkness seemed to consume everything. Only the dranei's blue glowing eyes, the gleam of slashing weapons, and flowing magic could be seen. The dranei with their demon-gifted vision could see clearly. Sadly, the orcs could not. The orcs were originally winning the battle, but only because of sheer numbers. As they lost their sight to the darkness, this advantage turned to their disadvantage. Orcs stumbled upon each other, slashed each other, and could aim their spells well, even jolting several orcs accidentally. The warchief, Thrall, called for a retreat. They would not die a battle in which they were at a great disadvantage. As the clans followed the Great Warchief, the Blackhand's clan stayed behind to slow the attack of the dranei. The dranei, sensing that they had the upper-hand released all the magic they were saving up since they had expected a longer battle. The orcs, under the cover of darkness retreated into a clearing. Blackhand's clan shortly followed.
Thrall paced back and forth in the command tent. I have in my desire to lead my people into salvation, have led them straight into doom, he thought. He slammed his fist into a tent pole, which did not even seem to have felt it. This threw him into a greater rage. He thought of just killing himself and escaping this two-pronged question. The tent flap was raised and Ark'ar, his second entered.
"I see your having a bit of a problem. Do not fear Warchief. We will win this war with the-" Ark'ar spat in disgust and continued, "-the dranei.
Thrall only sighed. Ark'ar did not see anything beyond this battle. Although Ark'ar was his second and a wise, cunning fighter, Ark'ar did not understand the big picture. Thrall stopped himself before blurting out that Ark'ar was a fool. He does not see that once the dranei fall, Kil'Jaedan will need another tool for his little schemes. Thrall dismissed his second. He took out a chalice hidden under his robes and looked at the green liquid inside. He remember what Kil'Jaedan had told him: One drink, and he will have power beyond imagination.
"NO!" Thrall yelled loudly. He tossed the chalice on the ground and the green fluid spilled over the ground. In a second, it dissipated. It was as if it was never there. "I will NOT doom my people by enslaving them to a demon!" He sighed and sat on the damp floor. Thrall had not asked for a chair because he wanted to be as uncomfortable as the rest of the orcs. When Thrall had regained his composure, he called for Ark'ar.
"Yes, warchief," Ark'ar send in a low voice.
"Summon the clan leaders"