Reglar walked into his hut gripping his Battleaxe tightly.
"I can't believe he trusts these, Outlanders." Reglar growled to himself. "He is a fool to believe their allegiance is true."
"But in your heart of hearts, you know the WarChief is right."
Drek'thar had walked in.
"The WarChief has grown old and complacent." said Reglar
"You know that whatever decision the WarChief makes is always correct. Do you really think you could have survived alone in Kalimdor, your parents dead around you? You even call him father."
"When the Quillboars left my parents corpses, Thrall was already their. He is my father." Reglar said with a calm voice.
"Then you know you can trust him."
"Yes Master Shaman."
"Just remember the amount of times Thrall has come to your aid. That debt will be repaid one day." Drek'thar said before departing to the city centre.
Reglar stared at the ground for a while before shaking his concentration and saying.
"Nazgrel, tell my father I'm going to pay the Blood Elf a visit.
"Hail, Son-of-Thrall." spoke Kael'thas regally.
"Hail, Prince Kael." replied Reglar "I want to know how you got here. I want to know where you came from. I want to know everything about you."
"I bid thee to sit down." Prince Kael motioned to a chair. "You may need to."
"Quickly, we must go to see my father." Reglar barked quickly.
"We are in no immediate danger." said Prince Kael.
"Yes we are, only the records my father keeps can truly inform you of what Gul'dan is capable of."
"It can wait until the morning." laughed Prince Kael.
"You do not know the Legacy of Death that has followed that creature for generations! We are leaving, NOW!" yelled Reglar.
"Guard, inform the men that I am leaving for a while."
The two left at an unholy speed, Reglar on his Dire wolf, Kael on his White horse.
They leapt of their mounts and dashed into the Great Hall.
"What is the meaning of this, Reglar?" asked Thrall.
"Father, Prince Kael'thas has something of great importance to tell you."
"I was driven from Outland, the remnants of the broken world of Draenor to this Continent by Gul'dan." Prince Kael explained slowly
"Are you sure?" asked the Great WarChief.
"Yes. He has control of a vast, demonic, army that is poised to take this world and countless others." Prince Kael had all eyes on him.
"Drek'thar?"
"Yes WarChief."
"Gather all the Shamans, Witch Doctors and Spirit Walkers you can, we must find the rift that will allow Gul'dan to enter our world." ordered Thrall.
"WarChief?" ventured Kael'thas. "Allow me to pledge my Priests to this cause."
The hall was shocked that an outlander, let alone an Elf, had offered their own kin to help.
"Drek'thar, the Elven Priests will aid you aswell." Thrall slowly ordered.
Weeks passed and no progress was made. The world knew though. The world knew when the Warlock had returned.
When the sky cracked open to reveal the swirling chaos of the Twisting Nether. The sky was plastered with a multitude of destructive Firestorms. Huge columns of fire could be seen from Khaz-Modan to Ashenvale.
"WarChief. He is here." Drek'thar spoke with a heavy heart.
"Are you sure?" asked Thrall.
"Look to the sky WarChief."
Thrall stepped out and saw the chaotic pathways of the Twisting Nether.
"The Horde must go." said Thrall. "Where is he Drek'thar?"
"The Tomb of Sargeras, WarChief."
"By the Great Beyond, We're too late."
