TLDR? Let me read it to you instead: http://vocaroo.com/i/s1XhFCQGwM1E
The Siege of Tempest Keep
Massive bolts of energy crackled violently around the crystalline structures, illuminating each of the five floating platforms enough to be seen from far in the distance.
“There!” Maraad yelled over the whirring of conduits and the thundering of lightning strikes for which the region earned the name Netherstorm. “Our salvation lies just ahead in Tempest Keep!”
Of the few hundred assembled, almost all responded with silence. There were a few murmurs among the crowd, and several younger members of the group started to applaud, but instead thought better of it.
“Friends!” A different voice now broke the silence.
From within the crowd the source of the voice emerged. In many ways he looked like the others, tall with a skin of subtle blue, forehead plated and formidable, his eyes a glowing white. With resilient hooves and powerful legs, his movement was effortless over the mountainous terrain, his tail maintaining his balance with ease. What distinguished him from the others was his long, almost impossibly white beard, his bright white golden robes that seemed to emanate light at the seams, he wielded tall staff adorned with jewels and crystals, and an ever-present runic symbol which hovered just above his forehead. People parted to clear him a path towards the front of the group as he ambled towards Maraad.
“Prophet.” Maraad said reverently, bowing his head.
Prophet Velen extended one hand and placed it on Maraad’s shoulder, afforded him a smile, and turned to face the mass of people.
“Friends!” he repeated, “This is a time of grieving for all of us. I know our hearts and our minds are with those who remained in Shattrath.”
Maraad spotted many children scattered throughout his people who were now overcome with tears. Others rushed to their side to embrace them, but it was not enough to quell the pain that the newly orphaned young experienced.
“There are those, as there have been for millennia, who wish our very race enslaved, corrupted, destroyed. In the struggle to merely exist, we have been forced to make unthinkable sacrifices. But, we are Draenei – and though exiled, we are not lost. Our every tear is a defiance of the evil that would see us destroyed. The Light showers us with hope and illuminates our path yet again.”
Maraad felt his grief begin to erode as he absorbed the inspiration of the Prophet’s words. Surveying the crowd, he sensed that he was not alone. Desperation seemed to melt away from those in attendance and as he looked out at the weary and sullen faces undergoing a reinvigoration, Maraad noticed the sounds of weeping begin to subside.
“We must have faith that in the future we will find those who stand with us and share in our defiance. Where there is faith, hope is never lost.” Velen extended his arms as a gentle sea of warm light washed over the crowd. Those who had been sobbing stopped as the light all but evaporated their tears. “Today, we shall take Tempest Keep and use it to leave this world. In so doing, let us move closer towards salvation and closer towards the end of evil.”
Applause erupted, and for a brief moment it was all anyone heard.
Valaar wanted to join in the cheers, but his duty as a Shield of Velen required him to remain constantly vigilant. He allowed himself a smile as he surveyed the crowd and noticed Maraad quickly approaching. Both paladins were clad in heavy plate armor, though Valaar’s lacked the colored gems and runic markings which identified Maraad as a Vindicator, one of the Draenei’s most elite fighters. Valaar saluted.
“We are ready to move out. Take your position.” Maraad motioned towards the Prophet and the three other Shields that were now assembling around him.
“The Prophet has given us courage again” Valaar said, securing his shield to his arm.
Maraad smiled. “Courage is ever-present. It need only be found. We are fortunate to have the Prophet’s wisdom.”
Valaar watched as Maraad unstrapped his warhammer from his back. It was formidable, with a head composed of a large glowing purple crystal. Valaar recognized it as the weapon gifted to his people by the noble Naaru thousands of years ago. It had been present on Argus when the Naaru assisted the Draenei in fleeing their home planet as it fell to the corruption of Velen’s brothers. The weapon was now a symbol of the Draenei’s faith and perseverance and though Valaar was grateful for its presence, he couldn’t help but notice the Naaru’s absence as the Draenei prepared to find a new home yet again.
“May the Light give you strength, Shield” Maraad said as he hefted the warhammer over his shoulder.
“And to you, Vindicator” Valaar replied.