They're in the Trees 004

The next day, Turion was woken up by the sound of people moving heavy objects, and the feeling of magic being woven. 

Stepping out of the barracks feeling surprisingly incredibly refreshed-that cot was better than his modern mattress-he witnessed a small army of craftsmen, laborers, and enchanters. 

The civilian workforce was almost entirely comprised of men with bulging muscles, and big bodies. Stacking the white bricks to form a wall, they moved with the practiced ease of a people that had done this kind of work for thousands of years. A small handful of people off to the side, meanwhile, wrote down inscriptions on the white bricks, and then the Priestess of Elune blessed them with her staff. 

Watching the inscription process, Turion was fascinated, as such things were impossible in the base game. He wondered to himself if he could learn professions, and if his System would limit him to two like in the games…or if it would help him comprehend all of them. 

Fallen into a worthless pile earlier earlier in the day, now that it was night, the eastern wall had been more than halfway repaired. 

Funny enough, he caught more than one Sentinel ogling the buff, sweaty Night Elf men as they labored about. The reversed gender norms in Kaldorei society were quite an interesting study. 

“You are awake, young Stormrage, good. Commander Woodshaper has prepared an escort to Astranaar for you to return to Darnassus.” An Elite Lieutenant who had been in the war room meeting approached him with a look that said she meant business. 

Meanwhile, Lynore-his Warden/Rogue, Hero bodyguard-was nowhere to be seen, as per usual. 

Turion decided not to fight this, as there would be plenty of time to slip away from any babysitting guards once he reached Ashenvale's largest Night Elven city. Besides, he would need a hub zone, and place to recruit allies for his adventures. Astranaar would be the perfect centralized location for that goal.  

“Lead the way, Lieutenant.” Turion gestured. 

Following behind the Ranger, he eventually came across a unit of panther mounted Sentinels, and he was directed to sit behind the Elite.  

Upon seeing the magnificent giant black cat, he couldn't help but marvel at how muscular, and lithe it was. Patting the cat's flank, he marveled at the silky smoothness, and the resulting purr was all sorts of adorable. Of course, the mount of an Elite was also an Elite, and this ‘adorable’ big cat could also assassinate him before he even knew what hit him. 

“Feed me tuna~” The panther meowed. 

Thanks to Nature Speak, Turion perfectly understood the creature, and whispered. “I'll see what I can do when we return to Astranaar. But no promises that they have tuna.” 

The sisters all had their ears twitch at this, and a few exchanged knowing glances, or small smiles, yet none interacted with him. However, Turion could sense a sort of respect from the gathered warrior women. Perhaps his own small part in the battle had spread, or maybe it was due to his lineage, but he got nothing but good vibes from them. 

At the same time, as they departed along the official road, he was drawn in by the majestic scenery. His eyes were specially adapted to the dark, and in fact, Night Elves-duh it's in the name-were more active at this time, and typically liked to sleep during the day. In fact, when the Orcs attacked at dawn, that was like waiting until 1am to launch an attack on an ordinary Human settlement. Truly insidious. 

Anyway, giant trees, dense forests, countless deer, wolves, panthers, owls, vast lakes and raging rivers passed him by. The road before them stretched on endlessly, and was surrounded by gently glowing blue lamps. Releasing a calming incense, the enchanted beacons of light reduced aggression, and kept creatures without intelligence mellow. Unlike a ward that would prevent travel across the forest, these lamps made it so that both elf & beast could traverse this section of the forest in harmony. 

Witnessing fantasy trees the size of modern buildings, it truly clicked for Turion. This world was much, much larger than the map in the game would have one believe. The continent of Kalimdor was much like Africa in size. To put things in perspective, each zone was like the size of a small Earth country, or large USA state. Ashenvale, for example, was a little more than half the size of Germany. 

That was fucking huuuge for a province that took like 10 minutes in game to walk from end to end. 

And they were moving from the bottom right of the map, to the center. Basically from Munich to Frankfurt. Traveling in a straight line, that's about 190 miles, or including bridges, hills, etc, about a 210 mile trip. 

Riding these magical fantasy panthers are better than real life horses, and can reasonably travel about 50 miles in a day, and still remain combat effective. Possibly even over 100 miles if pushed to the breaking point. That is to say, it was going to take about four days to move between Warsong Gulch, and Astranaar. In between, there would be a handful of small outposts, dens, and campsites, but from what Turion could tell, it was like an endless stretch of nature as far as the eye could see. 

Fully taking this awe inspiring landscape in made him realize just how crazy corrupted places like Felwood must be…or how amazing the island tree, Teldrassil was. 

For all his craziness, Fandral Staghelm, co-ruler of the Kaldorei alongside his mother, whilst his father, Malfurion slept, was pretty amazing for building it. 

Although they were unofficial enemies at the moment, it had to be said, Fandral was an ambitious, forward thinking risk taker. 

When the Well of Eternity blew up, and the Night Elves lost their immortality, Malfurion was like: eh, we're too arrogant, let's let nature take its course. Tyrande neutrally agreed, whilst Fandral said fuck that, I'm getting my immortality back! 

Growing a tree big enough to encompass the area of Ireland in less than 5 years was badass…unfortunately, he was under the influence of the Satyr leader, Xavius the Nightmare Lord. Way back in the day, Malfurion had defeated Xavius, and instead of killing him, then purging his soul, the vindictive Malfurion polymorphed Xavius into an immortal tree, hoping to punish the ancient traitor. 

Unfortunately, this tree still had magic powers, and could still affect the physical plane by conjuring magic nightmares. Xavius had blinded Fandral with guilt, posing as his long dead son inside his dreams. Therefore, Fandral at this very moment…believed he was atoning for his sins. 

In his own mind, Fandral was keeping Malfurion out of politics, because the elder Stormrage was so extremely conservative, all he wanted to do was turtle up, and hide in the Emerald Dream. Meanwhile, Fandral wanted to actively deploy soldiers to the front lines, retake territory, and aggressively reclaim elven immortality. If he truly wished to kill Malfurion, he could've slain the sleeping Druid at literally any time. 

From this point of view, Turion didn't view Fandral as some mustache twirling cartoon villain, but as someone tortured every time he closed his eyes. Someone affected by the whispers of the most sinister minion of the Old Gods. 

What Turion needed to do, was instead of tattling on Fandral to his mother, potentially creating a schism, was to cure the man of his madness! Why would he kill one of the few ‘radicals’ who wanted to expand Kaldorei dominance, when he could instead sway him to his side?! 

And it just so happened that in Ashenvale, there was something that could cure the madman. In this large province the size of a medium country, there were countless sites of power, and precious artifacts. One of these places was the Moonwell of Purity. It was a place explicitly stated in the lore capable of cleansing corruption! Not only did he need to find some time to make the Arch Druid take a bath, but he also needed to test its waters out against other corrupted lands. 

However, at the moment, it would be very difficult to trick, coerce, or get the man to take a bath. He was a Druid afterall. Furthermore, curing Fandral meant the sleeping poison that was keeping his father in an artificial ‘coma’ would end early. Should Malfurion awake at this stage, then Turion could expect that he would be placed in ‘time out’ for a very, very long time. 

Unwilling to accept mediocrity whilst the pivotal events of Warcraft take place, Turion set this as his ‘long term’ goal. Something he would accomplish in 1 to 5 years when he had the capital to act as he pleased. 

In the meantime, he had many long term goals, such as teaming up with the Tauren, whilst there were many more short & medium term goals that he could achieve here in Ashenvale. 

Obviously, leveling up and increasing his direct strength was a priority, but he also needed to form a team of loyal followers. Solo adventurers rarely had good fates, and he didn't want to become a pile of bones in some random beast's belly because there was no one on watch whilst he slept. Astranaar should be a good place to find one or two companions, and there was a Furbolg camp near that settlement, perfect for his long term goal of establishing a unified alliance. 

Next were other medium & short term goals such as acquiring items/places of power. 

The number one thing he needed to zero in on in Ashenvale was the Scythe of Elune. Located in a shrine just north of Astranaar, it was the progenitor of the Worgen curse, and could both command Worgen & teach them how to control the power. Not only that, but it could cut open barriers with ease, and open portals between dimensions. 

Used to cut open a portal to the Emerald Dream, most of the Night Elf Druids stuck in this savage form, and bereft of higher thought, had been banished in the distant past. In other words, thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of insane Night Elves transformed into Worgen killers are now trapped in the Emerald Dream. 

Upon releasing them, Turion could then free their minds, and welcome them back to society. Earning admiration from the masses, and doubtlessly a handful of loyal combatants. Furthermore, he would learn how to become a Worgen himself, and all the spell-like nature abilities that came with it. 

The Scythe of Elune could double as a legendary melee weapon, and a staff to channel powerful spells. Crafted from the tooth of the giant wolfen demigod, Goldrinn, and an ancient piece of wood older than the Kaldorei, the Staff of Elune, this scythe was a potent artifact at the top of the food chain. Why quest through dungeons for gear when his own heritage was calling out to him? 

Therefore, he would go on this quest for the scythe as soon as he had gathered a handful of adventurers to brave the forests. 

Once he acquired the scythe, besides interacting with those Worgen, he had designs upon Dor'Danil Barrow Den. A location full of Druids trapped asleep in the Emerald Nightmare, he intended to cut them free from its sinister grasp. Coincidentally adding more Druids to the frontlines, and adding more strength to his new people. 

From there, he would leverage his growing fame to besiege several Satyr settlements. Not only with the goal of purging the mutants from his lands, and increasing his prestige, but also to recover even more powerful artifacts. One location held the Branch of Cenarius, which could enhance the growth & cultivation of life. Whilst another location held the Chalice of Elune, an artifact that could transform ordinary water into Moonwell water. 

From a meta perspective, if used properly, the Branch of Cenarius could be used to enhance the fertility of the Night Elves. Call him crazy, but while the Kaldorei held a numerical advantage over the Orcs by more than 3 or 4 to 1 at the moment, give the greenskins 20 years, and that ratio will be flipped. 

War & national destiny is often a numbers game. One only needed to look at China as a perfect example. In the past, there were dozens of language variations, and ethnic groups. These days, almost everyone & everything is dominated by Han Chinese. 

Should the day come that Orcs, Humans, or any other race on Kalimdor vastly outnumbers the Night Elves, then that is the day that they are truly doomed. Thus, this Branch of Cenarius was EXTREMELY important for the long term survival of his race. 

Next was the Chalice of Elune. This one was pretty self explanatory in how OP it was. Acting as a mobile Moonwell, the chalice could heal & restore mana better than any potion ever could. With zero side effects, and a theoretically unlimited supply, Turion couldn't wait to get into a large army battle next to a river or lake. Whosoever bore the chalice would be an immortal upon the battlefield. 

Mind awash with so many different objects and locations, Turion had a few more things he was interested in, but he would arrive to them when those opportunities presented themselves. 

As for the Orcs muddling around in the south east, he imagined Thrall would largely limit their activities in Ashenvale. Especially after this big fight. For the next few months, or even two years, he did not plan on going south unless he exponentially increased in strength, or circumstances dictated his actions. 

Until his own house was in order, Turion did not wish to go on foreign adventures. 

Teldrassil.

Darkshore. 

Ashenvale. 

Felwood. 

Moon Glade. 

Stone Talon Mountains. 

Winterspring.

Azshara.

These were the provinces that the Kaldorei held influence & dominion over. Encompassing an area close to, or possibly larger than Western Europe, it was a lot of land to keep track of. Only a fool would stretch himself thin galavanting across the world attempting to solve everyone else's problems when his own homeland is on fire. 

Within three years, he wanted every last Satyr north of Durotar dead. Within three years, the very start of WoW Classic would begin. 

By that point, Azeroth would not be prepared! 

Lost in thought for the future, Turion then changed his thoughts from his goals towards his immediate situation. 

Thanks to the quest reward for healing the two ancients, and his repeatable quests, he had reached level 15. 

[Name: Turion Stormrage 

Class: Druid 

Level: 15

EXP to 16: 0/16,000

Mana: 15  

Regen: 1 mana per minute

New Spells: Cleanse Corruption

Talent Points: (15) 

Talents: N/A

Quests (Repeatable) 

Heal 1 Ft Corrupted Environment 0/1

Plant 1 Tree 0/1

Nurture a Tree to Adulthood 0/1

Save an Animal 0/1

Heal a Plant 0/1 

Hunt, Consume & Use ALL an animal's parts 0/1

Kill an Enemy of Nature 0/1 

Reward 500exp each

Finally getting his hands on the spell [Cleanse Corruption], Turion foresaw this as his bread & butter farming tool. There was so much fucking corrupted land around that it was quite literally free real estate. Cleansing the land had the bonus effect of getting in good with other Night Elves. It was very win-win. 

Additionally, it seemed that his mana limit increased with every level, however his regen remained steady. He theorized he would need items to improve that, but for now he would just rely upon moonberry juice, which averaged at about 5 silver in price~. Taking a look in his bag, he saw: 9,999G, 99S, 99C meaning his nepo baby status meant he would have no problems cheesing his way to the top. Mother Tyrande truly cherished her only son, and had sent him out with a ridiculous sum of money. 

Next were the talents. He had 15 points, but due to the System, could only evenly spread them between the three available talent trees. Meaning he could place 5 points in Balance, Feral Combat, and Restoration. From the looks of things, his talent chart looked something like the one from the Wrath of the Lich King expansion, but wasn't one to one identical. 

Balance: 5/5 Starlight Wrath

Reduces the cast time of your Wrath and Starfire spells by 0.5 sec.

Feral Combat: 5/5 Ferocity

Reduces the cost of your Maul, Swipe, Claw, Rake and Mangle abilities by 5 Rage or Energy.

Restoration: 2/2 Improved Mark of the Wild

Increases the effects of your Mark of the Wild and Gift of the Wild spells by 40%, and increases all of your total attributes by 2%.

Nature's Focus 3/3 

Concentrate on a nature spell for twice or three times the cast time, and increase its effectiveness by 2 or 3x.

Inputting the points into the first row of the talent tree, Turion was marginally pleased with his picks. The Balance tree was ‘whatever’, the Ferocity talent would be of some use, but the two Restoration talents was where it was at! 

In the short term, the buff to [Mark of the Wild] would make its shielding much more powerful. And whilst he didn't have a panel for attributes, a quick self cast revealed that he was just that little bit faster, stronger, and more intelligent. 

Then there was Nature's Focus, which was markedly different from the base game. In the normal WOTLK expansion, this talent prevented knockback…which didn't really apply in the real world. Now he could strengthen his nature spells by chanting longer! [Healing Touch], [Thorns], and [MARK OF THE WILD] could all be improved up to three times their normal effectiveness. Those insta-cast spells could now take up to 3 seconds and be improved at a corresponding rate. 

That was simply too OP! 

Grinning to himself, he felt a few strange glances heading his way, but Turion didn't care, he was ready to arrive at Astranaar yesterday! 

~~~~~~~~~

Traveling along the southern road-so as to avoid Horde patrols & ambushes-their party made swift progress. 

Camping out at several hidden outposts, and other nature preserves for a little more than four days, they were about 20 miles south of Astranaar. 

Pausing upon a ridgeline alongside his companions, Turion beheld a wide, bowl-shaped valley that stretched on for as far as the eye could see. By this point, they had come across several sleeping Ancient Protectors that were resting, but wouldn't hesitate to smash anything non-nature aligned that trespassed. 

From there, he spotted a sprawling city that was thousands of years old, and sat in the middle of a lake, much like the Aztec city of Tenochtitlan. Water was everywhere, and he could faintly sense that the entire lake surrounding the city acted like one giant Moonwell…that, that was busted beyond belief! Astranaar was simply unfair. No wonder the largest city within the entire province had managed to last for millenia. With free healthcare on demand like that, and a practically limitless supply of mana, what idiot wouldn't build their city on top of the lake? 

“Magnificent, isn't it? I was a child born after the Sundering. When Kalimdor formed, this location was nothing but a handful of huts. We have come a long way from just a few thousand to more than two million Kaldorei today.” The Elite said with some pride in her voice. 

Turion mutely nodded along. It was impressive. But with their level of technology, and relative safety…two million people over a 10,000 year time frame was embarrassingly low. Witnessing the grandeur of Astranaar, he knew his people were capable of greatness, but had allowed complacency to hold them back. 

“You have done a fine job, Lieutenant…forgive my youthful ignorance, but I wish to see more cities like Astranaar across all of Kalimdor. The safety of the Kaldorei cannot be resigned to but a handful of locations.” Turion passionately replied. 

“War is an ugly thing, young one. I forgive you for your ignorance, but to ask the sisters to risk themselves on foreign adventures would be unkind to the centuries of sacrifice that they have already endured.” The Elite said in a tired voice, yet spoke like an elder educating a youth. 

Turion pondered her words, ultimately nodding along. He couldn't blame immortals for wanting to enjoy lives of comfort. Especially those ones who had already fought in the major wars of the past. It was best to trust a veteran when it came to the matters of war…but Turion understood better than most the horrors of Azeroth, and would not remain in the rear. He refused to allow the Kaldorei to become a footnote beholden to the whims of other races. 

“For this last leg of the journey, keep your eyes peeled, little Stormrage. A tribe of Furbolg, the Greenpaw, are to the west of the road, and have suffered a most heinous corruption. They now attack anyone on sight.” The Elite warned. 

Turion nodded along, but was reminded of a quest in the past. During their journey, he kept his eyes peeled, and eventually saw what he was looking for. 

Off to the left of the road, hidden by the trees, yet close enough to benefit from the enchanted lamps, was a large hollow log. A tarp was hanging above to protect its occupant from rain, and there, roasting some meat above a campfire was a black furred Furbolg. His nameplate revealed his name was Krolg, a level 25 (Advanced) Warrior, he was just one step away from going up a tier to (Elite). 

Rival to the chieftain of the Greenpaw Furbolgs, Krolg hated Night Elves, blaming them for the spread of corruption into his tribe's lands. How did he, then, escape his people's fate? The madlad was just that angry! Conquering the corruption in his mind by sheer will, and Primal Rage, Krolg was someone worthy of befriending. 

Glancing at this angry black furred Furbolg practically radiating an unconscious hue of Primal Rage, he surmised that the beast-kin had the potential to become Heroic one day, perhaps even higher if provided with the proper gear. If he could be boosted to a high enough level, Krolg may even serve as a rallying banner for other tribes of Furbolgs. 

In Turion's eyes, this guy would make for the perfect first companion to his squad. 

“Sisters, before we reach Astranaar, I wish to converse with this creature.” Turion said both asking, and demanding when he spoke. 

The Lieutenant glanced at Krolg, and furrowed her brow. “Our orders are to take you to Astranaar. We must then swiftly return, Silverwing Hold needs us.” 

“Please, sisters. I have recently learned the spell [Cleanse Corruption], and intend to cure the Greenpaw tribe. Of course, that will be for later. However, that Warrior looks quite dangerous, and if I went looking for him after you dropped me off at Astranaar, I fear for my safety.” Turion claimed in a tragic tone, attempting to garner some sympathy as both a healer, and ‘idiotic’ youth. 

“...you possess the care of your mother's heart. Very well, but we shall delay our journey for no more than 15 minutes.” The Lieutenant sighed, and reluctantly indulged him. 

“Thank you, sisters.” Turion said, dismounting the panther, and then bowing to them. 

Then, escorted from behind, he slowly approached the Furbolg. 

“Hail, Krolg of the Greenpaw tribe, my name is Turion Stormrage, and I have come to right the wrongs of my people.” Turion said, his words eliciting some narrowed eyes, and unhappy glances from his companions. 

[Nature Speak], meanwhile, translated his words so that the beastkin could understand him. 

“Hmph. Ever since that explosion two years back, not a single Druid has come by to speak with us. My tribesmen have gone mad, the totem to our village cries blood as our ancestral spirits watch their children devolve into beasts. And now you come? Begone, long ears, your help is too little, too late.” Krolg snarled. 

To the sisters, the Furbolg's speech sounded no different from a dog's barks, the content was unrecognizable, but they could tell when one of their own was being threatened. 

Knocking their arrows, the women would not stand for the son of their idol to be aggressively barked at in their own forest! 

“Kaldorei anu’dorini!” The Lieutenant raised her voice. 

“Let the will of the Kaldorei be known!” The sisters in the squad forcefully responded. 

For a second, Turion was surprised by the escalation. It was easy to forget that the Night Elves in this timeline weren't the ‘live & let live’ WoW hippies, but the Warcraft aggressive tree huggers that had canonically torched Human & Orc settlements…and due to their cultural bias, actually targeted women over men as targets to slaughter, thinking they were more of a threat. The Children of the Forest were playing no games. 

‘These Amazon women are going to start WW3 if I take them along to negotiate!’ Turion privately thought as some sweat dripped down the back of his neck. ‘Although they are ride or die…so they get a pass.’

Holding up a hand at the ladies, and witnessing a red sheen coat the Furbolg, Turion rose to his full height, and interposed himself between their weapons. 

“Greenskin beasts have been ravaging the forest five days travel to the south east. They are servants of the corruption.” Turion lied, but was technically correct, the best sort of correct. “You do not trust us, fearing we have some ulterior motive. Very well, then I will be frank with you. I will cure your tribe in exchange for your support.” 

Krolg slammed his hunting spear into the dirt, knocking up some soil, he then angrily spat to the side. The Primal Rage in his system seemed to flair, then rapidly subsided back to its base level ‘simmering’ state. 

“Long ears are untrustworthy. But I can smell the scent of war upon you, Druid. I do not promise my tribesmen to follow you into conflict, Krolg does, however, promise his spear to your cause.” The Furbolg said with much derision, and disdain. 

A small smile spread across Turion's face. Sending this single tribe numbering in the thousands to Warsong Gulch? That was suicide. Hardly something worth scheming for. But you, Krolg? Heh heh, to so readily throw yourself into the Night Elves camp…that was precisely what Turion desired most! 

“Very good. Pack your things, Krolg, come with me to the city. After all, you need to keep your eyes on me, to make sure I keep to my word. I promise you, within the month, we will have cured your people.” Turion whispered, for a brief moment appearing more devilish than the most damned Satyr. 

“Hmph, tricksy Night Elf. Krolg won't let you out of his sight.” The Furbolg repeatedly snorted, slamming the butt of his spear onto the soft ground. He then rapidly ate his food, tied a satchel full of essentials to his side, and stood next to Turion. 

Now that they were so close, Turion realized how ‘short’ the Furbolg was. Comparatively speaking that is. Whilst he was close to 8ft tall, and rippling with bulging muscles, Krolg was about 5'10, stood with a hunch, and had limbs the size of tree trunks. The biological difference between them was like a Human looking down at a Dwarf. Funny enough, both ‘shorties’ were stocky, held short tempers, and venerated their ancestors. In short, Furbolgs were practically the Dwarves of the forest to a Night Elf's POV. 

“Please, sisters, withdraw your weapons, I have made a promise to the Greenpaw tribe, and I will see it through.” Turion firmly stated. 

“...but Commander Woodshaper wished you to return to Darnassus.” The Elite sharply stated, realization dawning in her eyes. “...you truly are the progeny of those three.” 

Turion witnessed his escort's rapid fluctuation of emotions, and gradual acceptance of the situation with a small smirk. Yes, that was right. One of the reasons why he was so insistent regarding Krolg, was that ancient people valued their word more than things like gold. 

For the Kaldorei, commerce was not nearly as important as it was for other races. Amongst themselves, producing goods was more to keep from being bored or to be validated by their peers than for any need. Money was useful, but ask any Kaldorei for their help, and they'd be more than happy to lodge one of their own. 

By making such a public promise, the sisters he was traveling with could not in good conscience send him back to Darnassus before he accomplished his quest. Unless his safety was in question, his mother wouldn't recall him either. Obviously if there was a problem, his still invisible bodyguard, Lynore, would have manhandled him back home…now, of course, if papa Malfurion was awake, the old bastard would enact thunderous methods, cleanse the Furbolg tribe himself, then send Turion packing to Darnassus to be grounded for a hundred+ years. 

Smiling weakly at the thought of his stern father's return, Turion vowed he would at least be Heroic, or an Epic Hero before that potentially Demigod tier man woke up. 

“Very well. Welcome, Krolg. Let us depart for Astranaar.” 

~~~~~~

AN: To recap, the MC's medium term goals are:

1. Level up (ideally to Elite)/Gather allies in Astranaar 

2. Go on an adventure to seize the legendary weapon, the Scythe of Elune

3. Rescue the trapped Druids in Ashenvale from the Emerald Dream

4. Leverage increased prestige to form an even larger party & seize the Branch of Cenarius/Chalice of Elune from the Satyr

5. Wage war upon the Satyr, local Horde forces, Burning Legion & Twilight Cultists in Ashenvale 

Short term goals:

1. Finish up small quests in between medium goals. Aka, find/equip other magical artifacts, learn professions, study magic, improve economy/prestige, help locals with their problems, explore places of power, and cure some corruption along the way. 

Long Term Goals (in no particular order): 

1. Cure Fandrel of his madness

2. Learn the full power of the Scythe of Elune/save Worgen Elves

3. Permanently kill Xavius

4. Make allies with the Tauren/Furbolg/Moonkin

5. Dominate the Orc/Troll/Centaur/Murloc/Ogre

6. Exterminate/Cure the Naga/Satyr

7. Establish diplomatic ties with other Empires/Governments like Pandara, Alliance, Shandrala, Blood/High Elves, (maybe) Nerubians, & maybe maybe certain Trolls. 

8. Consolidate Northern/Central Kalimdor

9. Prepare for world ending disasters/Wake Malfurion up

If you have any ideas regarding Turion's goals, feel free to speak up, now is the time~