“With its concealing spell dissolved, the city was revealed in its tranquil magnificence. Everything he saw drew the eye upward. Massive stone steps, wide and blunt at the base and tapering toward the top, led to spherical dwellings. One reminded Durotan of a snail shell; another, of a mushroom. The combination was striking. Bathed in the hues of the setting sun, the bold lines of the steps were softened, and the domes seemed even more invitingly rounded” (Rise of the Horde, Chapter Three).
“The stone of the roads had been smoothed, by time or draenei hands, he could not say. As they drew closer, Durotan could see that the city continued up the mountain. The architectural pattern of wide, bold steps leading to a softly curved structure was repeated here. There were long roads, made of the same white stone that somehow did not seem to get dirty although at least ten generations of ores had lived and died since the draenei had arrived. Instead of the skins and horns of animals slain in the hunt, the draenei seemingly utilized the gifts of the earth. Gleaming gems were everywhere, and there was that curious overabundance of light brown metal unlike any Durotan had ever seen” (Rise of the Horde, Chapter Three).
“Then, the draenei city had been spread out like jewels on a meadow. Now. it looked exactly like what it was—a broken, taken city, spattered with blood and gore and the death not just of its citizens, but of any hope of peace or truce or negotiation. Durotan closed his eyes briefly in pain. I am proud of my people and our city, Restalaan had said to Durotan. Restalaan. who lay dead and stiffening on the white street along with countless other draenei. We have worked hard here. We love Draenor” (Rise of the Horde, Chapter Fifteen).
