Grave News

"What in the blazes is this? Is this still a human power?" The Blackhand Guard's mind screamed, utterly bewildered. Looking at the human in front of him, he was wearing a priest's robe, but underneath, muscles bulged like a blacksmith's forge. While in the Blackhand Guard's experience, humans were scrawny, weak creatures with thin arms and legs, this one was clearly built different – stronger, more powerful than any human he'd ever seen.

Without giving the Blackhand Guard another second to wrap his head around it, the next moment, the priest used that hammer to send the Blackhand Guard's huge iron rod flying. "Bang--" The massive iron rod, over four meters long, turned into a streak of light, soaring more than ten meters away, one end burying itself deep into the five-meter-high, snow-white outer wall of the palace.

"Monster! I punish you on behalf of the Holy Light!" The young priest, with his brown hair and beard, swung that hammer again, a holy avenger. The huge two-handed war hammer seemed as light as a child's toy in his hands. In the gale-force wind created by the hammer's swing, the young man's golden hair and beard whipped wildly.

So strong! This was the last thought that rattled around in the Blackhand Guard's skull before it was unceremoniously introduced to the business end of the hammer. Just as the Blackhand Guards had brutally dispatched humans moments before, now he was on the receiving end of the same violent, no-holds-barred treatment.

As the ringleader of this slave rebellion and the toughest orc in the bunch, the death of Blackhand's lead guard was a gut punch to the morale of the remaining orcs. But to the young priest's utter surprise, not a single orc backed down. With eyes blazing red, they roared "Lok'tar Ogar!" – words the priest couldn't understand, but whose meaning was clear as day – and charged forward with unwavering resolve.

The priest had no choice. Behind him stood Lordaeron Palace, a veritable who's who of human royalty, housing not only the King of Lordaeron but also the King of Stormwind and other high-ranking dignitaries from across the kingdoms. He didn't have a clue why these orcs had chosen this time and place for such a reckless, suicidal attack – it wasn't even a decent assassination attempt – but he knew, deep in his bones, that not a single orc was getting through. The royal guards of Lordaeron, bless their terrified hearts, were clearly no longer a reliable option. So, he gripped his warhammer, a holy fury burning in his eyes, and charged forward with a fighting spirit that matched, if not surpassed, that of the orcs themselves.

The orcs are brave. They are natural-born war machines. Not only do they boast bodies tougher than granite, strength that could move mountains, and speed that could outrun a startled gryphon, they also possess a crazy, insatiable desire to fight. No weapon? Use your fists. Wrist broken? Kick with your feet. Feet broken? Bite with your teeth. The priest watched, horrified, as an orc whose hands and feet had been nailed to the wall by spearmen, took advantage of a soldier checking on him, and with a guttural growl, bit off the human soldier's neck with his fang-filled maw. What a horrible creature this is! The pastor couldn't help but be moved by the sheer, terrifying tenacity.

After another priest, equally burly and wielding an equally massive hammer, joined the fray, the battle became even more one-sided. Soon, all 100 orcs were annihilated. However, the price for this victory was steep: at least 500 royal guards lay dead. And that didn't even count the casualties on Gladiator Street and in the Colosseum itself.

King Terenas Menethil, having heard the news, rushed to the scene, surrounded by a phalanx of guards. The utterly tragic scene before him, a sea of mangled bodies, almost made him lose his lunch. The sight of so many of his guards, chopped to pieces, stung the eyes of the King of Lordaeron like a thousand angry wasps. The monarch of the most powerful human kingdom trembled all over, speechless for a long moment. His wrinkled face looked a bit old, but he wasn't yet sixty and certainly not senile. After a brief moment of white-hot fury, Menethil II reined himself in.

"Let King Llane and representatives from various countries come here," he commanded, his voice tight with controlled rage. "Although what happened today is a black eye for Lordaeron, I don't want this misfortune to spread like wildfire to all human kingdoms."

After instructing his attendants, Terenas noticed a priest who looked wildly out of place among the royal guards. The priest was wearing a priest's robe, or what was left of its upper half, his lower robe was torn to shreds, and he was wielding an absurdly large warhammer. Not only him, but another priest not far away was dressed in a similar, battle-worn fashion. Looking at their blood-stained bodies, it was obvious that most of the orcs' deaths could be attributed to these two.

"Hello, two young clergymen," Terenas began, trying to sound regal despite the carnage, "did you... by any chance... kill these orcs?"

"Uh, Your Majesty," the first one mumbled, wiping some gore from his hammer, "I only killed 55."

"Your Majesty," the second one chimed in, equally nonchalant, "I have 38."

The two priests' answers stunned King Terenas for a moment, leaving him blinking like an owl in daylight. After several seconds, he managed to stammer, "May I know your names?"

"Uh, I'm Uther."

"I am Tirion Fordring."

Two priests, holding hammers that looked like they belonged to giants, saluted the King of Lordaeron together. The scene was as weird as it could possibly get.

"I admire your courage," Terenas declared, finding his voice. "As the King of Lordaeron, I declare that you will be rewarded. However, before that, I have more important things to do. I must first form an alliance with other human kingdoms to deal with these hateful green beasts." At this moment, Terenas, who had been sitting on the sidelines, had finally made up his mind.

The following report only cemented Terenas's decision. A duke, an earl, and a countess, who was famously known as one of the ten most beautiful women in Lordaeron, were all killed on Gladiator Street. In addition, nearly 2,000 people, including over 300 city guards and 600 royal guards, were slaughtered. And the reason? Simply the rebellion of 100 orc gladiators! Caught with its pants down, Lordaeron had paid such a heavy price for just 100 green-skinned beasts! King Terenas trembled with pure, unadulterated fury just thinking of this result. If he didn't do something, the nobles would be on his case like white on rice, and the common folk wouldn't be far behind. Even though Terenas felt that something was fishy, the threat of the orcs was as real as the nose on his face. If all the orcs on the other side of the Thandor Bridge were this terrifying, then the kingdoms like Dalaran, sitting right in front of Lordaeron, wouldn't stand a snowball's chance in hell. When the other human kingdoms were wiped off the map, the fate of Lordaeron, the last kingdom standing on the continent, wouldn't be much better.

At this precise moment, King Llane and representatives from various countries arrived. Except for Llane, Duke, and Lothar, who had already been through the wringer with the orcs, the other representatives were all utterly bewildered. Such a tragic scene left them speechless, their jaws on the floor.

Just then, two messengers, riding horses like the hounds of hell were after them, burst into the palace, one hot on the heels of the other.

"Report - A large number of orcs have emerged from Loch Modan! They've already captured the South Gate Outpost of Dun Morogh and are marching towards Ironforge!"

"Report! More than 100,000 orcs were found in the wetlands! They are expected to reach the Sardor Bridge by tomorrow at the latest!"

These two pieces of news hit them like a bolt from the blue, knocking the dwarf representatives of Ironforge and the human representatives of Stromgarde right off their feet. Llane had hammered it home more than once: the orcs' goal was to conquer the entire planet. But every representative had subconsciously believed that those greenskins would be satisfied just taking over Stormwind. When the day of all-out war finally arrived, they suddenly realized that those damn orcs had an appetite bigger than a dragon's hoard!