"Vancleef… Your Excellency, may I first ask when we can begin discussing the alliance?"
Hamuul Runetotem had not forgotten his initial purpose. Although the Tauren tribe's situation was not good at the moment, rashly allying with an unknown force was not a good idea.
Vancleef replied very politely, "Elder Hamuul, I am only a temporary person in charge, responsible solely for your reception. The true person in charge of the alliance's discussions will need some more time to reach Kalimdor."
Still needs some time to reach Kalimdor? The Alliance has already mastered the sea route across the Endless Sea?
Hamuul's heart was very complex. The continent of Kalimdor had not encountered such a large-scale intervention force for thousands of years. At most, there were a few Goblins who had built commercial ports along the coast.
However, the Goblins were only interested in making money, unlike the Alliance's clear intention to directly intervene in Kalimdor. Hamuul couldn't help but worry if this was a prelude to a storm.
The old Tauren thought for a moment, then asked, "Your Excellency Vancleef, what will the Alliance's arrival bring to our continent?"
"Elder Hamuul, you don't need to worry. We are simply here to befriend you. Other than that, we will not interfere too much in your lives."
Vancleef smoothed over the words Arthas had entrusted to him and continued, "The one leading this alliance is Prince Arthas of Lordaeron. His objective is to unite all forces that can be united."
Unite forces? Why would humans, so far away in the Eastern Kingdoms, suddenly consider such a thing? And do they have no one left to contact in the Eastern Kingdoms, that they must come to Kalimdor?
"Elder Hamuul, I am merely a messenger for the Prince Arthas, and can only tell you the little I know. The true reason, I'm afraid, will have to wait until the Alliance's envoys arrive." Vancleef showed a helpless smile on his face; what he said was indeed true.
"I understand. Thank you very much for your reply, Your Excellency." Hamuul said in a muffled voice. Although he still had many doubts at the moment, he had to wait for the Alliance's envoy group to arrive.
Hopefully, this isn't anything bad, Hamuul thought to himself. The Tauren tribe couldn't withstand any more major storms.
The Centaur have become increasingly rampant in recent years. Starting from Desolace in the westernmost part of the continent, they have spread their scouts and camps across the entire central Kalimdor, relying on their advantages in long-distance travel speed and endurance.
Like the Tauren, they are a nomadic race, but the Centaur are extremely cruel and brutal, possessing many savage traditions, and even eating uncooked raw meat.
To the Centaur, the Tauren are both targets for plunder and food—this sounds incredibly cruel, but among backward and savage races such as the Centaur and Boar People, cannibalism even occurs frequently.
The clan Hamuul belonged to had suffered from Centaur incursions for several years. Many young tribesmen had died in resistance, their villages burned by the Centaur. These beast-like fellows didn't even spare women and children.
The Tauren had truly reached their limit and were on the verge of breaking, but their tribesmen were scattered across the vast Barrens, making it difficult to gather enough people to resist the Centaur's attacks.
That's why Cairne Bloodhoof sent Hamuul to investigate the situation. Although none of them believed that good things just fell from the sky, if they could solve the Centaur threat by only paying a corresponding price, the Tauren felt it wasn't impossible.
Unfortunately, the human envoys had not yet arrived, so Hamuul had to stay in this beautiful stone city for a while longer.
…
"What? You want us to cross that ocean?! You're not joking, boy, that sea is much vaster than Draenor's!"
The tall orc with black hair tied in a bun snorted, "Why should we leave here? Those weak humans are no match for the Warsong Clan."
"Grommash, we lost many good men in the last battle to rescue our brethren! Even Ogrim died. Do you still think those humans are as weak as they were ten years ago?"
Upon mentioning Ogrim's name, the young orc's emotions became a bit agitated. "We've wasted too much time in the mountains! We can't live here! We need more vast land for our tribesmen to survive!"
"Then go seize it, go take it! Down the mountain is human land. Are you scared?! Or has that name the humans gave you also turned you into a human Thrall?!" Grommash flexed his sturdy arm, his battle-axe, Bloodhowl, stained with the blood of countless strong individuals and fierce beasts, gripped tightly in his hand.
"Blackmoore raised me, but what happened between him and me ended completely the moment he died, Grommash. Don't try to provoke me with that!" Thrall frowned deeply. "You are the chieftain of the Warsong Clan, the strongest warrior of the Old Horde. Don't you understand that humans are no longer what they were more than ten years ago?"
"If we could easily take human land as you say, would we still need to hide in the deep mountains? Grommash, times have changed. Lordaeron, under the leadership of that Prince named Arthas, is different from before."
"Hmph!"
The chieftain of the Warsong Clan snorted lightly. He could not refute what Thrall said, because it was the truth. Even the warlike and aggressive Warsong Clan had to hide in the deep forests of Tirisfal under the human army's relentless pursuit.
"I received a revelation. The future of the orcs lies on the continent across the Endless Sea. Staying here will only intensify our conflict with the humans," Thrall also reached out and patted Grommash's shoulder. "Ogrim would not want to see us waste precious time on meaningless arguments here."
"You've learned all the human rhetoric, Thrall," Grommash stared at Thrall for a long time. "But you also learned a lot from Ogrim. I don't like that guy much, but I have to admit, he did a good job as Warchief."
Thrall smiled with relief. Although Grommash was short-tempered and straightforward, he was clear-headed when it came to major issues.
But Thrall also understood that leaving the Eastern Kingdoms continent was not an easy task. "Humans heavily guard the ports everywhere. It's simply unrealistic for us to set sail from within Lordaeron, and we don't have enough ships to transport our tribesmen and warriors."
He leaned on Doomhammer, which Ogrim had passed down to him, and fell into deep thought. "How do we leave here?"
"If there are no ports and ships, we can build them ourselves. The mountain road east of Tirisfal leads to Silverpine Forest. There's a coastal exit there with no humans, only many spiders and beasts."
Grommash, who had lived in the Tirisfal Forest for many years, had his own ideas. He stated them directly. As for whether to adopt them, that was up to Thrall.
The orcs' shipbuilding technology was not advanced, but while they couldn't build warships, building transport ships capable of crossing the sea was not a problem. Coupled with the fact that orcs generally had much better physical conditioning than humans, they could cross the sea by paddling even without sails.
At least, that's what they did originally in Draenor, and later when they swept through the Eastern Kingdoms by ship.
"Although it's difficult, at the moment, this is all we can do."
With a preliminary plan in mind, Thrall and Grommash gathered the orcs rescued from the internment camps and began secretly making their way from the southern lands of Lordaeron towards Silverpine Forest, following the mountain ranges.
Uther, stationed in Hillsbrad Foothills, also noticed that the number of orcs seemed to be gradually decreasing. They had stopped invading human villages and towns.
"They finally know what's good for them?" Alexandros Mograine was the troop commander assisting Uther in defense, and also a paladin of the Silver Hand Knights.
"It seems they are no longer in Hillsbrad." Uther pulled up the Orc banner on the sand table, but hesitated to put it down. "But where could they possibly have gone?"
"Ha, what are you worried about? Under Prince Arthas's deployment, the defensive fortifications of Tirisfal and Wild have been built long ago. These orcs cannot possibly threaten the core of the kingdom." Alexandros smiled, not as worried as his colleague.
"You're right, but we still cannot let our guard down. The tragedy at the Southern Camp constantly reminds us that our world still faces many unknown dangers."
Alexandros lost his excitement after hearing about this. He gritted his teeth and said, "Three hundred people, three hundred excellent soldiers, died so inexplicably? Only one recruit and one little girl survived?!"
"We arrived too late. That place had been infiltrated by demons very early on. By the time Arthas arrived, following the clues, their souls had already been devoured by demons."
"Sigh… I don't know what Arthas was feeling at the time." Alexandros sighed. He had personally dealt with "comrades" resurrected by Orc Warlocks during the Orcish Wars, and understood that feeling.
"Compared to Arthas, let's first figure out where these orcs have gone. I believe in Arthas's resolve; he won't be flustered by this matter."
"You're right. Now, let's go and severely deal with those runaway green-skinned mongrels!"