"He has spoken with me at length, and we agreed to meet here to decide how to respond to the Burning Legion's threat," Malfurion said, turning to Tyrande.
"How is that possible? Malfurion, are you joking? He entered your dreams?" Tyrande's eyes widened. Malfurion's dreams were linked directly to the Emerald Dream; for someone to infiltrate them suggested a power far exceeding Malfurion's own—at least at the level of a Demigod.
Malfurion was one of Azeroth's elite. While not a Demigod, his true combat power was nearly equal to his mentor, Cenarius. For someone to silently enter his dreams meant their strength was staggering. Since they both aimed to stop the Legion, Malfurion decided to hear him out.
Rhodes and Jaina exchanged a look. They knew the "Prophet" had successfully contacted the Night Elves, which meant he had already settled things with the Orcs.
"I know of this mysterious Prophet," Rhodes stepped forward. "He is the one who guided us humans to Kalimdor. He said only here could we avoid disaster and defeat the Burning Legion."
"The Prophet warned us back in Stratholme," Uther and Jaina added, nodding. "If we had listened then, perhaps much of this tragedy could have been avoided."
"I am curious, then," Tyrande looked at Rhodes. "Do you know his true identity?"
"I do, but let's wait for him to arrive. It's better if he reveals it himself," Rhodes replied.
As they spoke, a wolf's howl echoed in the distance. Over a dozen frostwolves carrying green-skinned Orcs appeared. At their head was an Orc clad in black plate armor, wielding an oversized, legendary hammer.
Uther's eyes nearly bulged out. He recognized the armor and the weapon: Doomhammer, the weapon of the former Warchief Orgrim Doomhammer. But the Orc wearing it was someone he didn't know—an exceptionally young leader.
Rhodes narrowed his eyes. This was his first time seeing Thrall, the "World Shaman" and the undisputed protagonist of early Azeroth.
Uther and Jaina gripped their weapons; Tyrande aimed her bow. Tensions were high. If Rhodes hadn't intervened earlier, Cenarius might have died at the hands of the Warsong Clan. The Night Elves harbored nothing but loathing for these "minions of the Legion."
"Minions of the Legion! How dare you show your faces here?" Tyrande roared. "What has your demon master sent you for?"
"The Orcs are not slaves to demons!" Thrall roared back. "The demons deceived us and enslaved us. We are their sworn enemies. I have come here under the guidance of the Great Prophet."
"Hold your hand, Tyrande," Malfurion intervened. "Let's hear what he has to say." He rode his stag toward Thrall. "Who are you, stranger? Tell me your name."
"My name is Thrall, son of Durotan of the Frostwolf Clan, and Warchief of the Horde. My respects, Night Elves. I apologize for the conflicts that occurred in Ashenvale," Thrall said, bowing slightly. He was clearly aware of the Warsong Clan's relapse into blood-lust.
"You and your people are tainted by Fel, yet you claim not to be lapdogs?" Tyrande countered. "My guards saw your chieftain, Grommash Hellscream, swear fealty to a Pit Lord."
"I can only offer my apologies," Thrall said. "But we have both suffered losses. I lost my best friend, while you only lost some trees."
"Don't flatter yourself," Uther spat. "Your 'best friend' sold his soul to the Legion again and attacked our lands without provocation."
"Human, if you want to fight, I will accommodate you," Thrall said, glancing at the alliance. "But I am not here for a brawl."
"I have no desire to associate with Orcs," Uther muttered. "Who knows when you'll turn and join the demons again?"
Just as the argument escalated, a raven flew from the sky and landed between them, transforming into a gray-robed old man clutching a staff.
"Stop! Neither humans, Orcs, nor Night Elves can survive this alone," Medivh spoke, his voice heavy. "We must unite. Paladins and Priestesses, put away your hatred. The Orcs are here to help."
"I recognize you," Malfurion said. "You are the one from my dreams. Prophet, why have you brought us together?"
"My name is Medivh," the man said, lowering his hood to reveal his face for the first time. "I was once the Guardian of Azeroth... and the one indirectly responsible for the Legion's invasion."
Uther and Jaina's faces turned pale with rage. "How dare you show your face here, you executioner! No wonder you brought the Orcs—they are your old allies!"
To the Alliance, Medivh was the ultimate traitor—the man who opened the Dark Portal and brought the Orcish Horde to Azeroth.
"This is impossible," Jaina said. "Dalaran records say you were killed by Sir Lothar."
"It is true that I brought the Orcs here, and I died at the hands of my best friend," Medivh explained.
"But the invasion was not my intent. Before I was born, the Dark Titan Sargeras possessed my body and soul. For years, I did not know if the person controlling my limbs was myself or the Titan.
I committed countless crimes, and I do not ask for forgiveness. But while my spirit drifted in the astral plane, I discovered the Legion's plot. My mother, Aegwynn, resurrected me. I have come to warn you, and to seek redemption."
Malfurion and Tyrande were stunned. Sargeras? The Lord of the Legion? This human had been possessed by a Titan and returned from the dead? The sheer power required for such a feat was unimaginable.
"What do you intend for us to do?" Malfurion finally asked.