Reforged Chapter 73: The Grand Entrance of the Horde

The lands of Draenor were barren, unable to support any normal plant life.

The sky was filled with a murky wind, suffocating all who breathed it.

Without plants, there was no sustenance for herbivores, and naturally, the predators at the top of the food chain could not survive either.

The stars in the sky seemed to tremble, and the sun was dim and lifeless, shrouded by a thick layer of dust. Everything was gloomy and lifeless.

Suddenly, the wind ceased, and the air echoed with a resounding, deep horn blast.

As the wind stopped, the airborne dust settled. Across the land, enormous figures could be seen moving toward a common destination.

There were massive wolves of various colors, but the majority were towering humanoid figures with green skin. Standing over 2 meters tall with bulging muscles, even the slimmer females among them had physiques far surpassing human warriors.

They carried an assortment of weapons, proudly gathering in the direction of the horn's call.

Their heavy footsteps caused even the sturdy ground beneath them to crack with each step, emitting a faint snapping sound.

The earth was cracked and devoid of nutrients, and each step sounded like the approach of death.

A massive bolt of lightning seemed to split the sky, leaving an afterimage etched into the retinas of the towering warriors. A giant with reddish skin looked up in astonishment. He saw the muddy clouds in the gloomy sky slowly drifting towards their target.

"This...is..."

"Durotan, don't bother looking. It must be Gul'dan's magic."

Durotan opened his eyes, the pure blue irises reflecting an almost perfectly vertical tornado. It seemed as if all the energy in Draenor was converging there.

As the chieftain of the orc Frostwolf clan, the young Durotan had an incredibly strong body. His massive frame was adorned with the most typical of orc decorations.

Two well-groomed braids hung down his chest. Thick as a bull's leg, his arms were each wrapped with numerous large and small animal fangs. A broad, white animal hide belt covered his entire belly.

Durotan carried an enormous axe, as large as half a human door. At his side walked his beloved white dire wolf, a colossal creature the size of a water buffalo, weighing at least 400 kilograms.

Durotan moved his jaw, the two protruding tusks adorned with decorative iron rings producing a crisp metallic sound.

"Orgrim, I always feel that the destruction of the world is connected to that Gul'dan."

Durotan's friend, Orgrim Doomhammer, who would one day become the Warchief of the entire orcish Horde, tilted his head. "I don't think one orc can destroy a world."

Orgrim's physique was not as imposing as Durotan's, being slightly smaller in stature. However, anyone who overlooked the massive square-headed hammer he wielded, larger than most orc torsos, would pay a heavy price.

Orgrim's body was also adorned with various orcish trinkets. The fangs that hung from him were not only decorative but also symbols of his bravery. Only orc warriors who had single-handedly slain fearsome beasts could break off their fangs and wear them proudly.

At this point, Orgrim was no less remarkable than Durotan.

Both were renowned warriors among the orcs!

As they drew closer to their destination, Durotan saw more and more orcs.

These elite warriors from various clans of the Horde were either pounding their chests or letting out earth-shaking howls, displaying their bravery in various ways, and occasionally brawling with those who didn't see eye to eye. The gathering area was like a massive arena.

"Ah, the Warsong Clan, the Blackrock Clan, the Shadowmoon Clan, the Shattered Hand Clan... almost all of the major clans are here."

Orgrim added, "Of course, the world is ending, and we don't want to perish with it. Our only choice is to heed the call of Warchief Blackhand and Gul'dan."

As the two spoke, many orcs noticed Durotan.

Many orcs' pupils suddenly shrank, and the crowd full of fighting spirit stirred. The gathered orc warriors parted, like splashing water or retreating tide. The orc warriors made way for these two brave heroes adorned with tusks and trinkets.

At that moment, an even taller and more imposing figure appeared on a crude wooden platform not far away. He was a massive orc wrapped in heavy iron armor, his bloodstained warhammer signifying his bravery.

His iron-blooded face seemed to tell other orcs that he, too, had a heart of steel.

His presence was like a giant battle-axe cleaving through the unruly crowd of orcs. Those who stepped back a little too late were overwhelmed by the bloodthirsty aura, struggling to breathe, their chests barely able to expand again.

"Oh, Frostwolf Clan, find a place for yourselves in the south." The only one who could overpower the heroic Frostwolf Chieftain in terms of presence was Warchief Blackhand, known as 'The Destroyer'.

Durotan and Orgrim simultaneously pounded their right fists against their left chests as a sign of respect for the Warchief. Blackhand, however, barely glanced at Durotan before leaving.

An hour passed after settling the Frostwolf Clan, and a call to assemble echoed before the massive stone gate towering hundreds of meters above the gathering area.

"Ooo-oo-oo—" The long, distant call seemed to come from an ancient past, as if heralding the demise of the world the draenei called 'Draenor', or blowing the horn for a new war!

Most orcs didn't think too much about it. All they knew was that Gul'dan was summoning the orcs on behalf of Warchief Blackhand.

A tide of green-skinned orcs surged towards the vast open space before the gigantic gate. The enormous figures easily filled the area to capacity.

Weaker orcs couldn't even get close to the gate. Those lacking in strength and stamina were naturally pushed to the outer circle.

On the massive stone steps before the gate, towering tens of meters above the ground, a hunchbacked orc in a black cloak, leaning on a skull-topped staff, slowly stepped into the view of tens of thousands of orcs. Huge bone spikes protruded from his back, with a few withered skulls impaled on them.

His figure was not large, but no orc would ignore his presence.

He was Gul'dan, who's authority had surpassed his paw…"mentor" Ner'zhul and was now the de facto ruler of the orcs behind the scenes!

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