"Never mind the war! Listen to me, old man!" the death knight shouted after him. "We do not need to defeat the Alliance because we do not need to conquer Azerothl"
Ner'zhul paused and glanced back. "But you said you could reopen the portal. Why do that if not to return there?"
"Return, yes, but not for battle." Gorefiend closed the gap between them again. "We need only to find and claim certain magical artifacts. Once we have those, we can leave Azeroth and never return."
'And stay here?" Ner'zhul waved a hand, the gesture encompassing much of the stricken landscape around them. "You know as well as I that Draenor is dying. Soon it will not be able to sustain even those of us left."
He had not remembered the shaman as being so slow-witted. "It will not have to," Gorefiend assured him, speaking slowly as if to a child. "With these artifacts in hand, we can leave both Azeroth and Draenor behind and go someplace else. Some place better."
Now he had Ner'zhul's full attention. Something like hope flickered across the white-painted face. For a long moment, Ner'zhul stood poised either to reenter his hut and resume his self-pitying seclusion, or to embrace this new possibility.
"You have a plan for this?" the old shaman asked finally.
“I do.”
Another long pause. Gorefiend waited.
"… I will listen." Ner'zhul turned and stepped back into his hut.
But this time Teron Gorefiend — warlock and death knight — came with him.
CHAPTER TWO
“Look at this place!"
Genn Greymane, king of Gilneas, gestured at the citadel towering over them, the same massive structure whose front gates they were striding through as he spoke. Though a large, burly man, Greymane was dwarfed by the edifice they were entering, the arch of its front gate more than twice his height. The other kings nodded as they too passed through, admiring the thick outer walls with their heavy block construction, but Greymane snorted, and his frown showed he did not echo their approval.