Restalaan
Truth be told, he had been surprised by the sudden appearance of Durotan, the Frostwolf Chieftain having appeared to be unsettled. Of course, a part of that was the fact that the other was able to find Telmor despite the protection of the Leafshadow crystal. But it was a dark tale that the other told him, of just what was happening. He was unsure of things, and he was seeking answers, for he did not think that the draenei were the ones responsible for the upheaval of the elements, for the sudden disasters that came out of nowhere. "I do not think your people would do such a thing knowingly."
He could hear the need to believe it, the need to uncover the truth as they talked. Because he did not want to make war on the draenei. Did not want to repay those who have saved him with blood and treachery. "And yet, if it is indeed your people that have caused this, then as a chieftain, I will have no choice. My own desires, my own regrets, all of those are nothing in the face of ensuring the clans survival. Even this..." The orc sighed, his muscled frame weakened by doubts. "If it is discovered, could see my clan hunted and butchered."
It was a show of trust, even as Restalaan considered things, as he prepared. There were messages to send, and he needed to talk to Velen. As it was, this could change things, could mean that the upcoming war would be... he closed his eyes and breathed. He had saved Durotan and Ogrim once as children. Many had looked at him with wary eyes for that, for yes, the orcs could be savage. But, they were children, and he would not leave children to die. And now?
At great personal risk, to himself and his clan, his family, one of the youths, fully grown, had come to him, to seek a better way. Answering compassion with compassion and seeking understanding. Vindication in a way that was terrible to gain, but still, he would take what blessings of the light he could. "What of Ogrim?"
For he was the other, and not standing here, and it was here that Durotan sighed. "He has not been able to leave his clan, but has voiced his reluctance for the war. He does not want to, but..." Shoulders, covered in a wolf pelt, moved from side to side. "Unless I can bring back proof, then he will obey his chieftain." Those blue eyes did not glow in the manner of his people, the orcs not having the connection to magic, to the light that his own did, but it almost seemed that they did, the stare intense. "Please, give me that proof and prove Ner'Zhul wrong."
The War for Draenor
There were several ways that the orcish clans not swayed by Ner'Zhul could have acted. Indeed, it would have been expected that the best the we could have hoped for was those clans to remain neutral, to do nothing at all. But as it so often is, the fate of a world swung on the hands of individuals, shared moments of compassion and understanding that forged something that would endure as the darkness fell. Restalaan, guard-captain of Telmor had once saved Durotan and Ogrim from ogres as children, introducing them to the prophet Velen. All of this shaped the pair, and decades later that moment of compassion resulted in more than just a warning of what was to come.
No, instead the Frostwolf clan stood with the Draenei along with many smaller clans and portions of the others. Many of the Orcs and the Draenei were unsure of the others at first, but in the fires of the war that followed, friendships were forged and bonds of family found. Together, they managed to fight off many of the early attacks from the horde, establishing clear lines of defense and control. Enraged, the blood of demons was offered to the horde to break the spine of this resistance, this defiance. Filled with demonic bloodlust, the Horde fell on them, butchering and slaughtering many of the defenders.
It was a time for heroes, a time when valor sang and the songs of doom were pushed back for a time. There had been hope, before the night fell and the worst of the atrocities were committed, as Gul'dan and the shadow council worked from the shadows. Some suspect that Kil'jaeden was content to have the draenei's death be a long, slow and painful one, so long as they could not escape. With the fel-touched Red Pox unleashed, cutting off access to the Light, subjecting many of the draenei to what they considered to be a fate worse than death? Some say the Eredar lord laughed, a cruel smile on his lips as Shattrah city fell at last due to betrayal from within.
Traitors who were promised mercy from the legion... only to be cut down by the rabid orcs.
Orcs and Broken
There are orcs, and then there are orcs. The horde was not the only thing to come through the dark portal, this much was known to many. What many do not know, is that there are two factions of orcs, both of which hate each other. One are a rabid scourge, killers and marauders who bring suffering to all around them and who worship demonic powers. The others are reclusive, eking out survival far from others and do their best to avoid causing trouble. Holding to honor and loyalty, they are orcs that denied the demons when they came, even as they have been marked by their touch.
They are allied with a race that calls itself the Broken, twisted and misshapen, often of limited mental faculties and who weep and shy away from the light. According to the orcs, they were once proud, tall and noble, workers of wonders and great magics, whose cities rang with the Light and laughter. Who fell, as the demons came, who hated them. Who desired to twist and break them. They are fallen, but remain kind, remain compassionate. They are caring souls despite their appearances. But they are also reclusive, nervous and slow to trust. They prefer to stand by their orcish allies, often working in the shadows, easy to overlook when there is a massive brute with an axe or spear bellowing!
It would not be discovery of Go'el, named Thrall by Aedelas Blackmoore (who had been stolen from his parents by unknown means), leading the corrupted orcs to Kalimdor while attempting to redeem them, Doomhammer mysteriously in hand, that they would begin to become active in Azeroth, and as more than just reclusive strangers.