Chapter 88: Collecting Heads

Lothar could feel his sword trembling in his hand, its blade stained with blood and shimmering with his fury.

Was it his determination to defend the human world?

Was it his anger at the nobility's shackles?

Was it his resistance to the impending fate?

Lothar wasn't sure, but he knew that the indomitable spirit burning within him was telling him that he and his men needed to spill the blood of the orcs.

Watching Lothar lead his griffon riders as they charged towards the surviving orcs scrambling up the river bank, Duke laughed.

No one could swim with a several dozen-pound hammer or battle-axe.

Despite their strength, could the orcs take advantage of the fully-armed griffon riders when they had been disarmed by a series of stratagems?

They still roared and launched ferocious attacks against the human warriors, even with bare hands. Unfortunately, without heavy hammers and giant axes that could easily crush shields, their attacks were not much stronger than the wild beasts in the forest.

Shield bash! Collective thrust of swords and spears!

Small fighting groups consisting of five or six warriors were extremely efficient at harvesting the lives of orc warriors.

Meanwhile, the newly joined cavalry led by Bolvar unleashed the most devastating impact, charging downstream and ruthlessly cutting down the orcs on the river bank.

In the damp forest just upstream from the orc crossing, the fire could hardly spread. Suddenly, a shocking tremor occurred, and many large trees, each big enough to be hugged by a person, were easily knocked down.

Accompanied by a group of mighty orcs, the chieftain of the tribe, Blackhand the Destroyer, arrived at the riverbank. When the last large tree blocking their view was knocked down by his guards, the dire situation of the tribe came into view.

It was disastrous!

Too disastrous!

Thousands of tribal warriors were forever lost at the edge of this unknown river. Many of them were pierced to death by sharp wooden stakes rushing down from upstream, a few were drowned, more were shot dead by spears, and some were surrounded and killed by human soldiers on the other side of the river.

On the other side of the river, the one-sided killing continued.

The roaring torrent, tens of meters wide, isolated any possibility of Blackhand sending troops to rescue them.

"Roar!" Blackhand let out an angry roar from the opposite bank, but he was powerless to do anything. He could only watch as the orcs on the other side continued their fervor and struggled helplessly, still being slaughtered.

History repeats itself in an astonishing way.

Two destined enemies - the future Lion of Azeroth, Anduin Lothar, and the current second-in-command of the Warchief, Orgrim Doomhammer - their gazes met in the void, separated by the entire riverbank.

It was a mystical feeling, a premonition that only one of them would survive, difficult to describe.

Of course, for Blackhand, who stood beside Orgrim Doomhammer, it felt like Anduin Lothar was looking at him at that moment.

Seeing Anduin Lothar stepping on the back of a struggling orc, Blackhand let out a deafening roar.

"You puny humans! If you dare to kill any more orc warriors, I'll chop off your head and use it as a chamber pot!"

Blackhand shouted in Orcish.

This did not prevent Lothar and the griffin riders on his side of the riverbank from understanding the meaning. For a moment, hundreds of people turned their attention to Lothar.

Lothar wiped the blood from his face with his left hand, grinned at Blackhand, and anyone could tell it was a mocking smile.

In the next second, he grabbed the struggling orc's head with one hand, and his sharp sword severed its throat in one swift stroke. Then he used his sword to hack the orc's head off a few more times.

Lothar raised the still-bloodied and grotesque head of the orc high in his left hand, and also let out a powerful roar.

"To hell with your orcs! Long live King Llane Wrynn! Long live Stormwind! Long live humanity -"

Almost all human soldiers imitated Lothar, either holding up the head of a defeated orc or waving their blood-stained swords. For a moment, the riverbank on their side became a hell for orcs and a paradise for human warriors!

"To hell with your orcs! Long live King Llane Wrynn! Long live Stormwind! Long live humanity -"

With soaring spirits, the furious roars of the human defenders filled the sky.

After the orderly cheers came all kinds of ridicule and sneering.

"Hahaha! Die, green-skinned monsters!"

"Come one, kill one!"

"We're not afraid of you, you four-limbed creatures!"

"The human provocation goes beyond language.

Warchief Blackhand's green face was dark, and his huge warhammer struck a nearby tree with a single blow, sending the entire trunk shattering into pieces that even impaled an orc nearby.

Yet, he was truly helpless.

On the shore, Duke didn't take action anymore. His magical powers were almost depleted, and even though the Arcane fire circuit still provided him with a constant supply of mana, he could clearly feel his mental fatigue.

Today, he had done well.

Even though the total strength of the Orcish Horde remained strong, he knew that he had done all that he could.

Suddenly, a glimmer of light appeared on the river of fate.

That glimmer was so faint in comparison to the entire river that it could hardly be considered bright, even among the myriad lights that represented the fates of all living beings in Azeroth.

Nevertheless, Duke had just sown a new seed of fate in this land, which was about to fall under the dark rule of the orcs.

Perhaps this seed would wither away.

Or perhaps, at the right time, a flame of hope would ignite from it, burning away all the demons' claws.

Regardless, this was Duke's first attempt at changing the flow of fate.

It seemed quite successful."

In this battle, the kingdom of Stormwind lost.

Whether in terms of tactics or strategy, the defending army led by Lothar was a failure.

Three thousand elite Gryphon riders and an equal number of defenders permanently sleep at the pass of Redridge Mountains. Their defeat also led to Stormwind's strategic passivity - with no strongholds to defend.

In this world, the water in Stonewatch Lake is more plentiful than in the game, and Duke played a game of water and fire, but it still could not erode the orcs' advantage in military power.

After a brief setback, Gul'dan sent more tribes of the Horde to invade Elwynn Forest on multiple fronts. Their offensive was even more fierce than Duke's "historical" understanding.

But that wasn't something Duke could control.

The Gryphon riders returned to Stormwind City a few days later.

In this era, people have a very direct way of expressing their feelings towards returning armies.

For victorious armies, people are not stingy with their praise and enthusiasm.

As for the defeated dogs of war, people will give the most brutal insults.

They should have been subjected to scorn and ridicule.

As for the Gryphon riders, their expressions were complex.