Rhodes felt a profound sense of admiration for these warriors of the Outland Expedition. It was impossible not to; when these men stepped into another world over a decade ago, they did so with the hearts of a suicide squad, fully embracing the likelihood of their own deaths.
He understood their anxiety. They feared that if the Dark Portal were reopened, Azeroth would once again be linked to the world of Draenor—now shattered into Outland. This was a perilous realm plagued by temporal rifts and populated not only by the local Orcs but by opportunistic interdimensional races like the Ethereals. Upon meeting Rhodes, their first concern was the security of their home world, not their own rescue.
"Another method? Then I am at ease, Excellency. You have no idea how terrifying this world is; it must never be linked to ours again." A flash of surprise and doubt crossed Danath Trollbane's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by immense relief.
Danath stepped aside and made a welcoming gesture. "Please, enter. Grand Marshal Rhodes, Lord Dathrohan, Lord Mograine—and is this Prince Kael'thas? Distinguished guests, Honor Hold is humble, but it can provide a safe place to rest. We... we have much to learn, and much to report to you."
They had a thousand questions, but the words seemed to stick in their throats. For now, hospitality took precedence. Rhodes nodded and led his team into the fortress.
The interior was more spacious than it appeared from the outside, but it bore the scars of time and the desperation of scarcity. The walls were patched with mismatched stone, and the armory held mostly ancient gear, though everything was polished and organized with military precision.
The soldiers they passed were weathered and gaunt—some clearly malnourished—but their eyes remained sharp and their discipline ironclad. They watched the newcomers with a mix of awe and suspicion, particularly eyeing Vashj and Maiev.
Naga were creatures of the deep sea; while Kul Tiran lore mentioned them, mainlanders had never seen such beings. As for Night Elves, they were entirely unknown, though the veterans noted their resemblance to High Elves.
"Do not worry, these two are my allies, not enemies. Relax," Rhodes said to the soldiers. With his word, the guards ceased their glaring, though Vashj and Maiev were still restricted from entering the primary council chamber. Neither woman cared; Maiev was a prisoner, and Vashj was merely Illidan's liaison. They had no interest in Alliance politics.
As they walked, Danath described their situation: "...When we first followed General Turalyon and Lady Alleria here, we were over ten thousand strong. But years of constant battle, the harsh environment, disease... now, Honor Hold has fewer than three thousand who can still lift a blade. Another two thousand can no longer fight and handle our logistics. We've survived on the original supplies we brought and whatever meager, edible flora and fauna we could find in this wasteland. Demons, Fel Orcs, and twisted monsters... they threaten us every waking hour."
Danath led them to a relatively intact hall in the center of the fort—the Expedition's headquarters. A hand-drawn, crudely sketched map of Outland hung on the wall, marked with danger zones and resource points. Once seated, Danath couldn't hold back any longer.
"Grand Marshal, tell us... how is Azeroth? Lordaeron... Stormwind... is everyone alright? We have been gone for so long."
Rhodes signaled for him to remain calm and began slowly. "General Danath, Azeroth has undergone cataclysmic changes. After the Second War, the Alliance was victorious but left exhausted. After you left, King Terenas worked to rebuild, but about a year ago... a plague of undeath broke out. It was a disaster that swept through the heart of humanity..."
Rhodes gave a concise but grim account of the Scourge invasion: the tragedy of Stratholme, Prince Arthas's fall and regicide, and the fall of Lordaeron. He spoke of the destruction of Silvermoon and Dalaran, and the final invasion of the Burning Legion. He also mentioned the rise of the New Horde, Princess Calia's exodus to Kalimdor, the founding of Theramore, and the current complex state of cold war and cooperation between the Alliance and the Horde.
Danath and the veterans turned pale, their breathing becoming shallow and ragged. They couldn't fathom that the home they had sacrificed everything to protect had suffered such devastation. The fall of Lordaeron, the murder of the King, the betrayal of the Prince... each word was a hammer blow to their souls. They had stayed in this hellish place to be a bulwark for humanity, only to find their home had crumbled behind them.
"King Terenas... and Arthas... how could he do such a thing?" Danath's voice broke as tears welled in the eyes of this hardened commander. Many of the old soldiers began to sob quietly. The legendary victory of the Second War was inextricably tied to King Terenas; it was he who forged the Alliance and the Silver Hand. To hear he was dead by his own son's hand was unbearable.
"Grand Marshal Rhodes," a soldier in the tabard of Stormwind asked, his voice trembling, "what of Stormwind? What is the state of our home?"
"Stormwind is currently safe," Rhodes reassured them. "The Scourge struck the northern kingdoms. Ironforge and Stormwind were largely spared. King Varian's city still stands; your homes are intact."
A collective sigh of relief swept through the Stormwind veterans. They had feared their families had shared Lordaeron's fate.
"That is a mercy amidst such tragedy," Danath sighed. "Marshal, I am deeply sorry for Lordaeron. These days must have been harrowing for you."
"They were. But hope never died. Princess Calia Menethil survived and has become the symbol of our nation. Lord Uther, though once despondent, has returned to her side as her chief advisor. We have rebuilt order and unified the Alliance's strength. Coming to Outland to bring you home is a vital step in our restoration. Azeroth needs its veterans, and you... you deserve to go home."
The hall fell silent as the veterans processed the news. There were bitter losses, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel.
"Danath, grief won't help. What matters is the future," the elder Mograine said firmly. "We will endure. Your will to hold this world for over a decade is the very essence of the Alliance spirit."
Rhonin, the Archmage, then spoke up, his voice tinged with a growing dread. "Danath, I haven't seen Lady Alleria or General Turalyon. Our primary goal is to find them as well. Do you know where they are?"
Rhonin feared he would have to disappoint his wife, Vereesa, and tell his nephews that their parents were still missing.
Danath's expression darkened. He shook his head slowly. "I am sorry. General Turalyon and Lady Alleria... they went missing during a major strike against the demon main force years ago. Our last great offensive was an attempt to destroy a demonic portal near Hellfire Citadel. They led an elite team deep behind enemy lines and were lost in a localized warp storm. We sent multiple search parties, but we found nothing and lost many good men. We... we suspect they may be lost to us."
He wanted to say "dead," but he couldn't bring himself to speak the word. Rhonin turned ashen. Rhodes, however, knew the truth: they were with the Army of the Light. But he couldn't reveal that yet—it was too unbelievable.
"Missing does not mean fallen," Rhodes said after a moment of silence. "Outland's space-time is chaotic; they may be trapped elsewhere. I believe the Light protects them. Those two heroes are still alive."