THRALL
He woke up to the sound of rain. The young orc was sweating profusely, despite the weather, as he got up from his bed to take a drink of water. He felt dizzy but especially troubled. The nightmare was unlike anything he had ever dreamt of. Two armies, orcs and humans, clashing at each other, each with the intent to kill every single one of them while the skies burned and raged, chaos reigning everywhere throughout the known world. Maybe it was the side-effect of leading the orcs for a while, his anxiety over an all-out war between both races manifesting within his dreams now. Groggily, he went outside to clear out his head and smell the cool, fresh air that was amplified by the rain.
He went over and clad the black plate armor that was of Orgrim Doomhammer weeks prior. The haunting memory still lingered freshly in his brain. To see the once mighty Warchief of the fearsome Orcish Horde fall in battle in the same vein as he had dishonorably done (his words, Thrall remembered, Doomhammer never looked proud in remembering such an act nor doing it) to Anduin Lothar was poetic justice. There, Doomhammer bequeath his armor and warhammer to him and proclaimed him, right then and there, as the Warchief of the new Horde.
"What kind of nightmare was that?" he said to no one in particular. Overhead, he noticed a raven that seemed to be looking at him. Thrall looked back at it, curious at the black bird and suddenly, a voice from nowhere replied, "It was not a nightmare, young warchief, but a vision. Follow me, and I will reveal what your future holds." Thrall looked everywhere for the source of the mysterious voice, his senses growing sharper every second. It took him a while to realize that the voice came from the bird itself. Thrall gaped at the bird, wondering how it could talk. The raven circled over him, clicking its beak as if to say to him, Follow me, then the raven went its way. Sensing the elemental spirits beckoning him too to follow it, he decided to do so. I don't know what this is all about, but I'll play along. he thought.
Mounting his direwolf, he followed the raven throughout the area. the raven took him across the hills, through the rivers, until it stopped along the cliffs overlooking the river. He slowly walked towards it, with each step increasing his curiosity and his guard. The black bird slowly descended onto the grass and, to Thrall's widened shock, transformed into a hooded man carrying a staff. The man slowly approached him and said "Greetings, Son of Durotan! I knew you'd find your way." Thrall regarded him closely, he had seemed familiar and his voice, now that he thought about it, was too.
"It was you I saw in my vision! Who are you? How do you know me?" he cried, raising the warharmmer.
"I know many things, warchief, about you and your people. My identity, at this time, is unimportant. What is important is that you rally your people and leave this shore immediately." said the man. Thrall stared at him in disbelief. Leave? He couldn't it believe it. Although he knew in his heart, that Lordaeron would not be an ideal place to hold his people, after what they had all done years ago.
"Leave? What's this all about, human?"
"Human? he chuckled. "I left my humanity a long time ago. I am something . . . different now. Know that I have seen the future and beheld the great burning shadow that is coming to consume this world." he turned to Thrall promptly. "You sense it as well, don't you?"
Thrall stared at the ground, thinking. It was true, all of it. For the past few weeks since skirmishing with the humans, an anxious feeling welled up within him. He had attributed this to the humans, knowing the thought of them free would have riled them up and they could have another war in their hands. Something deeper inside him refuted this, however, deep within the recesses of his mind, he knew that it was more than just humans, it was something dark, ancient, evil. An evil shadow that would relish in putting this world to the flame.
"The demons. . . are returning" he uttered blankly.
He faced the man, who did the same. There was ancient power and wisdom within him, Thrall could sense. "Yes. And only by leading your people across the sea, to the distant lands of Kalimdor, will you have a chance to stand against them!" he said.
That was a bold statement. He didn't even know what was lying across the sea. "But how can we-" he cried but the man interrupted him. "I will answer all of your questions in due time, young warchief. For now, rally your warriors and prepare to leave this land. We will speak again." the man said. He then abruptly changed back into a raven and flew away.
Thrall stood there, lost for words. A thousand questions racing through his mind, this must have been some sort of joke! Or the very least, an elaborate trap. However, the elements around him did not share his sentiments. He has wisdom, young one. He speaks true. he could almost hear them say.
"None of this makes sense, but the spirits tell me. . . that I should trust him." he said.
He wheeled around and began to make the preparations to assemble the Horde. He did not know why he would entirely trust the man, even though the spirits had vouched for him. He did not know if these instructions from the man were safe. He didn't even know how this could lead them to their destiny. But he was the Warchief of the Horde. He will lead his people to their destiny. . . or die trying.