War had indeed come to the Night Elves. Skullcrusha had
learned that the Alliance believed the Horde were marching towards Silithus,
and as such had rallied the Kal’dorei navy to sail southwards. They had been
deceived in a plan that Skullcrusha begrudgingly admitted was tactically sound,
even if it meant less Kal’dorei to kill. He remembered what felt like a
lifetime ago when he had first fought the Night Elves. Years of warfare and
bloodshed had led to this final march on the Kal’dorei…and he would not play a
part.
Part of Skullcrusha was bitter over that. He was merely an
observer in a war he by right should be part of. Of course, the Horde that
marched was not the Horde he had served and would kill him as readily as the
Alliance would. All still remembered the terrible price paid at the Siege of
Orgrimmar, and a walking reminder of such horrors would sit ill with any living
mortal. As such, the tyrannical warrior of old watched.
Vaknosh Blackwolf's Refuge 