"There you are, Ner'zhul," Gorefiend drawled. "I thought that might get your attention." He turned to regard Ner'zhul, mildly surprised to notice that the old orc’s face had been painted white — almost like a skull, Gorefiend mused. As their eyes met, Ner'zhul's widened.

"I… have dreamed of you," he murmured. "I have had visions of death, and now here you are." Long green fingers reached to touch the skull painted on his face. Small bits of white flaked off at the gesture. "Two years have I been dreaming of this. You have come for me, then. For us all. You have come to take my soul!"

"Not at all. I've come to save it. But — you are par­tially right: I have come for you, but not the way you think. I wish to see you lead."'

Ner'zhul looked confused. "Lead? Why? So that I can destroy more of the Horde? Haven't I done enough?" The old shaman's eyes were haunted. "Nay, I am done with such things. I led our people once — straight into Gul'dan's plots, straight into schemes that have doomed this world and a battle that nearly de­stroyed us. Seek a leader elsewhere."

Gorefiend frowned. This was not going as expected, and he couldn't simply slay Ner'zhul as he had the shaman's clansmen. He tried again. "The Horde needs you."'

"The Horde is dead!"' Ner'zhul snapped. "Half our people are gone, trapped on that horrible world, and lost to us forever! You want me to lead that?"

"They are not lost forever," Gorefiend replied, and the calm certainty in his tone brought Ner'zhul up short. "The portal was destroyed, but may yet be re­stored."

That got Ner'zhul's attention. "What? How?"

"A small rift remains on Azeroth," Gorefiend ex­plained, "and this side is intact. I helped create the Dark Portal, and I can still sense it. I can help you widen the rift until the Horde can pass through it."