Ulfberth was doing her chores, as she did every day.
Like the rest of the kids, she was on the salt field. The water from the previous round had evaporated, leaving nothing but the white substance they would gather into barrels.
That last part was for the adults though. The kids' jobs were simply to use flat rakes to shove and pull the salt from the bottom of the now "Empty" basin into piles of white for the adults to deal with.
It was a communal effort, where everyone's kids pinched in, provided they were over 7 years old.
After which everyone would run off and either go play or more commonly, help their parents in some way.
Whether it be helping out with younger siblings, cleaning, helping prepare fish, basically any lesser tasks at home that did not require great brute strength, which was left to the adults.
Normally the fields would be abuzz with the kiddos talking, and the kind of slow work and not really focused way that defined how children worked when they weren't under strict supervision.
Today though, today was different. Today every kid there was hurrying around as fast as they could. No talk, no slacking off, just kids wanting to get a job done as quickly as possible.
One might be forgiven for thinking that the reason was that the men usually in charge of putting the piles of salt into the barrels were there looking them over but once the kids were done, said adults immediately began their own work with the same kind of haste the kids had displayed earlier.
All of them wanted their usual work done with and over with, now, now, now!
The kids all ran back towards the city itself, though in Ulfberth's case she ran around the city itself, rather than going through it, as her home was on the northern side.
It felt… Amazing to just run.
No human hunters or farmers, no wild animals, just… Orcs and the occasional bird(Usually seagulls).
She was breathing hard and had a pain in her side as she finally stopped by her home, a decently sized brick building, with a small storage room, a common room, and sleeping quarters.
Her mother did not look over at her as she entered, instead being busy warming up their "stove rock", a magical stone that let forth red, searing flames.
The older folks of Thrall-Lure made a point out of that. Flames so searing bright they seemed almost pink.
Green fire was demonic after all. You only got purple flames with Arcane magic. And that distinction mattered a LOT in the Horde.
"Ulfberth, get the Blackmouths for me."
Ulfberth did so, not giving a voice of complaints as she went over and down into their storage section to get said Blackmouths, large, slimy black fishes that were still kept alive in a small basin, as they needed to be kept fresh.
With a firm grip that was experienced and sure of itself in her task, she fished them out, then with a quick blow to the heads on the stone, she killed all of them one by one in quick succession.
"Here mom!" She exclaimed cheerfully as she placed them in the stone sink
Her mother nodded, then having become satisfied with the warmth of her stove, she put in a large pot filled with some kind of fish.
"There… Now it's just the oil, and then whether or not your father gets back home in time with the lobsters…"
She got back up to begin working on extracting the oil from the fish.
All the while, Ulfberth remained by her side, obediently standing ready to deal with tossing the parts of the fishes that would be thrown in the garbage, and then the sea, and salting the parts of the fish meat they could eat later.
Outside the youngster put on the image of being the perfect assistant. Inside… Well, inside she wanted this to be over with as quickly as possible.
She wanted her mom to finish up with this as fast as she could just as she and the kids had with the salt.
That her mother took her time, as the conjured stone sizzled in the background, making sure to do everything properly on each step, frustrated her.
She knew her mother was more than capable of getting this done much, MUCH quicker than this if she wanted to.
She did not speak up about it though.
This was NOT the time to get grounded.
Seemingly feeling what she was thinking, her mom finally gave in, though not a word about her daughter's motivations had been spoken.
"Go check the beach for your father dear. If he's there, go help him. If not… If not, there's no way we'll be getting Lobsters done in time as well."
"So, if he's not there, can I go to the Harbor and see?" She asked excitedly.
Her mother just sighed.
"Yes, yes… If he's not there, you can go to the harbor and see… But you WILL be back afterwards. I expect you to help out with the feast. I will NOT have you run off while we're feasting the Warchief, you hear?"
"Don't worry mom! I'm not gonna run off like Wulf."
Her mother flinched, and Ulfberth could practically hear her ground her teeth.
ulfberth left before the older woman could say anything though.
Going out to the beach, and the docks where the lobster ships had been designated to return, she found out that her father NOT in fact managed to return in time. Also, she discovered her mother was actually one of the tamer reactions to the lobster team's tardiness. Several men and women stood on the docks, groaning, swearing, and arguing about what to do now.
Further talk of lobsters did not interest her though. What was wrong with fish? Fish was good. Actually scratch that. Fish was AMAZING food.
As she began walking through the city, a grin on her face, surrounded by a city bustling with activity, ulfberth took it all in.
The smells of seafood hung in the air, cooked fish, and here and there, boiled crab, and even some whale meat. She'd never seen the city in such bustling activity.
This was going to be a feast unlike any she had ever seen. That wasn't the part she focused on though.
No, the part she focused on was the way everyone was presenting themselves, and their home.
Banners. So, so many banners were covering the buildings. Red, gold, black. It made their usual home of brown and mud-colored clay seem alive and vibrant!
And the people… Everyone was running around in frantic motions yes… But there was also excitement in the air. Several musicians were preparing for the coming feast, to greet their Warchief and his men.
It was an incredible honor.
One such that they even were willing to endure the presence of humans.
As she neared the Harbor, she saw white and gold, and the shine of plated steel.
A spike of panic shot through her, and she immediately turned right and walked through a couple of buildings to take another road to the harbor. She'd see the Warchief arrive from the side of the harbor.
That way she didn't have to get close to the humans.
She'd hoped to find some of her friends there. But as it happened, she was the only one of her group of youngsters who had come so far.
That probably meant that Rex, Tyr, and Fang had all gotten way more chores at home.
She suddenly felt lonely, as she sat down on the dock, her legs out over the water.
Still… It wasn't the truly soul-crushing kind of loneliness.
She closed her eyes, and just… Took in the smells, and sounds. The smell of the sea. Salt. Fish. Food. The sounds of Orcs. Of talking. Of the lapping of the waves.
So, so different from the lives she had had before.
She opened her eyes… And there, she could see out over the ocean. The depths of blue. The skies and clouds.
And no walls that made her a prisoner here.
She'd been born inside of a set of walls. She had grown up inside those walls. They had dominated her life. Always kept her back, her and all her family trapped behind the seemingly eternal grey stone.
Orcs had different experiences in the camps. Some associated them with listlessness and lack of energy. Others as a horrible places of rape and beatings. Others yet had not known anything else.
She had been one of those.
But she had always dreamed. Always wondered… What was beyond those walls? The world outside? What else lay beneath the sky of blue, outside of the prison that had been her early years?
She had gotten the answer one day, as an orc appeared amongst them in the camp.
He had seemed so… Different. Wiser. More knowledgeable. Strong. Like the stories, her brother told her in his more energetic moments.
Then he had led them to rebellion. To break their chains and walls alike!
She recalled the sight so, so well. The three great heroes of their liberation.
Ogrim Doomhammer, their Warchief who had come to break their chains, and lead them to freedom.
Grom Hellscream, the great Hero of the Warsong, who was a master in the greatest art the Orcs had. The art of the Blademaster.
And of course… Him. The great hero who had roused them from within. Thrall son of Durotan. The last of the Frostwolf dynasty. The first Shaman in… Forever.
They had all left a mark on all of them. Adults and children alike. All remembered the three of them. Their saviors. The ones who resurrected their hope. Who brought them back into the world beyond.
The living embodiment of all that was good and noble about Orckind.
No wonder everyone was so excited to see their Warchief again.
They all owed him a debt that could never be repaid.
Even at the age of 11, she understood that much.
There was a reason why everyone was looking forward to Thrall's visit, and it went far, far beyond simply being honored by their leader gracing them with a visit. The truth of the matter… Was that they liked the man.
He was EVERYTHING a true Orc should aspire to be.
As she sat there, thinking and staring out over the ocean in silence for well over an hour, she expected to see Thrall's ship being the first ship of note that came to the harbor.
Instead… It was a trading ship from the Echo Islands, judging by the direction it came from.
She didn't take much note.
Right up until a bit after docking, an older, male orc promptly sat himself beside her, startling her completely.
"Wulf!"
Her brother smiled. Then reached over and ruffled her black hair.
"Hello, sis! How goes the work for the party?"
"I thought mother was going to kill you for leaving in the middle of it! How did you get back so soon?"
"Ah… Well, I'm technically not here. And the man currently signed on under the ship captain I sailed back on is technically not in Darkspear Village enjoying some time with his lover."
He laughed.
"It pays to make friends, sister. They let you get away with all kinds of nonsense."
He frowned.
"Speaking of which… You were just looking out over the oceans again."
It was not a question.
Ulfberth did not answer, instead letting the silence hang in the air until her brother broke it with a sigh.
"You need to hang out with your friends more. Being all alone isn't good for a girl your age… Actually, it's not good for anyone I think."
"You're here now." She said defensively.
"So I am! But I won't always be around, you know. You need to find some find someone to share your times with. Ah, but enough about that."
He reached his hand down and pulled out something from a sack he'd brought with him.
"I said I'd get something for you to wear for the party if I came back in time if I recall correctly."
She blinked as her brother handed her a…
"A tabard?" She exclaimed, completely surprised.
She held it up to see it in full, and to her amazement, she saw the symbol of Thrall-Lure, the old symbol of the Stormreavers, a massive, crashing wave contrasted by lightning, only now with a red and black background, engraved expectedly.
"How… How did you get this brother? It's Wonderful!"
Wulf grinned, the sharp teeth brimming with confidence.
"I'm glad you like it. As for how… Well, there was nothing illegal. I just helped with a service for a certain Troll lady that makes cloth out of fur. As for the details… Well, I'll tell you when you're older."
She cocked her head.
"Did you bring something for mom as well?"
He chuckled.
"Well, as it happens, I would rather prefer not to get skinned alive… So, yes, I did bring a peace offering."
At that though, he was cut off, as ulfberth's head snapped to the side as she caught something in the corners of her eye.
Something red and black on the horizon.
"Is that..?"
Wulf's eyes also turned sideways and narrowed at the sight.
"Yeah… Those ain't trade ships. Seems the Warchief has finally come."
I
Thrall-Lure was a bit different than most of the places Thrall had gone to on his tour of his settlements.
It was the only place where he did not need to remake anyone's fighting spirit, as unlike everywhere else, this place had no former soldiers.
The island where all the peons of the former Stormreaver Clan had settled, was not the only place to greet him with a feast. The part of the Warsong clan that currently lived by the coast had done the same, as had several settlements of former Shattered Hands and Blackrock Orcs that wanted to welcome their leader.
It was nice enough, even if he'd not asked for it.
That was part of being a leader though. He'd learned to accept hospitality during his and Grom's years putting the Horde together in the Wilderness into something that would be able to do things.
Men and women had their pride. Refusing hospitality was a good way to wound it for no reason.
Not to mention it was a good way to get a feel for your subjects.
And he had gotten a feel for Thrall-Lure.
It was not a place of warriors, he was able to tell that much.
On land, even the less weary settlements still had everyone carry a weapon, or be well acquainted with where their weaponry was.
Not so here.
He should not be too surprised he supposed.
These were not warriors. They were peons. They were used to doing things, to fish, to plant, to build, to do all the menial things that kept larger settlements running. One only needed to see the difference in building style compared to the rest to see the different mentalities.
While all his subjects used bricks to some degree, everywhere else, people preferred to build in stone. Here though, despite having some rocky hills on the island, rather than take advantage of that, they had instead constructed a small city exclusively made of bricks.
Well-made bricks too.
The food was good… Though internally he would admit he was somewhat disappointed there were no lobsters(His favorite seafood).
Finally though, as the food ended, drinks were consumed, and the light began to fade, it was time to get the actual reason he'd brought everyone together here, on the road.
It was time to decide on a battle plan.
I
The place of their war planning was the home of the local Warlord, who was also the only local there, as she seated herself in a corner, letting Jaina, Cairne, Magatha, Nazgrel, and Vol'jin all take three sides of her table, while the fourth and final one was taken by Thrall and one of his other Warlords.
An older woman Jaina had not met before, who was wearing decidedly non-Horde plate armor.
"Alright… Let's get down to business… Magatha, you ready?"
The older Tauren with the coat as black and sin had her eyes glow in a bright, green manner, as a dozen voices sounded from her lips.
It was… A very different kind of magic compared to anything Jaina had ever seen. Channeling other people's spirit for communication over longer distances was… Well, to be honest, a year ago she would have been certain that it was the magic of Warlocks.
As it turned out though, there were many, other ways to affect the spirits of people with sorcery.
That the old woman was capable of doing so(With the other Tauren leadership all the way back in Mulgore), even with A LOT of prep time and work, also spoke leagues of just how good at this she was.
"We are, Warchief."
Thrall nodded, seemingly nonplussed by the way her now many voices danced around each other.
On the table before them, was a massive map, showcasing the northern part of the continent.
"Alright… Let's get down to it then… As I rather hope I need not explain to you, the danger that we need to face is an all-consuming one."
He pointed down at the great bay north of Durotar.
"Our enemy outnumbers us by a massive, massive margin. Hundreds of thousands of demons strong. Not to mention countless undead courtesy of Arthas Menethil. Not to mention, this entire force is led by Archimonde, a demon with godlike, magical powers."
Jaina felt her entire body stiffen, though none of the others, except for Thrall, and the older Warlord seemed to notice. None of the others knew of her relationship with Arthas. And even him, not in full.
Had she known just HOW thoroughly the older woman had known of her former time with Arthas, she would have had a very different reaction to the woman.
"Even with certain… Other factors we'll be going over here if the entire might of our enemy were to hit us head on… I very much doubt we'd be able to stand before them."
"Lucky for us…" The older woman said with a grin that featured a broken tusk. "They won't."
"Why not? Ain't dere entire purpose for coming here to kill us all?"
"Yes, it is." Thrall agreed. "However, their means of doing so is not a simple invasion of our lands. They have a goal in mind."
Thrall pointed down at the map, in the center of a mountainous region to the North.
"Here, in the middle of this mountain range, lies the World Tree, Nordrassil. Their goal is simply to reach it, then for Archimonde to rip out it's magical powers to summon Sargeras directly."
A bit of silence before finally, the Tauren Matriarch spoke.
"This… Sounds bad… But… Who is this… Sargeras?"
"He's the father of Demons," Jaina whispered through the sound carried all around the room. "He's the master of the Burning Legion. Capable of cleaving Worlds in half…"
"Dat… Dat sounds very, very bad."
Jaina doubted that even so, he fully understood just HOW bad it would be for all of them. It would not simply be death… It would mean the obliteration of their very souls.
"Yes. If the legion reaches Nordrassil and manages to summon Sargeras directly… Then that is the end. Of EVERYTHING. That's the bad news. The demons do not actually need to conquer us all. They have a simple, easy means to achieve total, complete victory in one blow… That is the bad news though."
Thrall cheered up with a melancholic grin.
"There is good news, however."
His hand went down to the Demons landing spot. Then began tracing it along the map, between mountain ranges.
To reach Hyjal, the demons have to fight their way through this entire area, currently held by the Night Elf Empire, the superpower of Kalimdor. They'll have to fight their way through main Ashenvale, it's northern branch, then through a long, narrow tunnel under the mountains, then through Winterspring, then they reach Hyjal proper. It is a long and winding vale that is as if built for a last stand."
"Sounds good." Jaina said. "We ally with these "Night Elves" add our forces to theirs, and we begin a defensive campaign to kill as many demons as possible at every step of the way."
"That would be the logical conclusion. Unfortunately… That's… Not as simple as it sounds. Fremde, give everyone a breakdown on Night Elven society?"
The elder warlord, Fremde, began to talk.
"Night Elven society is divided into two. The male, and the female components. The women are the warriors, the protectors, and the guardians of their society. They keep the law, uphold the peace, and kill everyone who dares to step onto their lands without some form of arrangement."
Cairne and Magatha both nodded in agreement.
"They are exceptionally aggressive and xenophobic. On the other hand, the men are druids, magic users close to nature just like Shamans. They are peaceful, diplomatic, lawmakers and all around the saner, calmer part of this society."
"So… We need to make contact with the men then?"
Thrall sighed, though it was Fremde who answered.
"Yes, we do. More specifically, we need to make contact with their male monarch, the Archdruid Malfurion Stormrage. He is our ONLY means of getting through to their female Monarch, his Wife Tyrande Whisperwind. She will NEVER ally with us without his influence."
"So we send diplomats between the lines and make contact with him, bypassing Tyrande entirely?"
"That would be the smart thing, yeah… Unfortunately for us, these damn male elves function in cycles of magical sleep and awakenings. They'll snooze for centuries until they wake up on their own, or they're forced awake. And of course, they're asleep at the moment."
Great.
"Good news is that they WILL be awakened by their women later to help fight. Bad news… That will probably not happen before they're at the men's doorstep, here in Moonglade."
She pointed at the very north of the map, at a vale near the top of the continent.
"Which means that by the time they wake up, they'll have lost a LOT of ground."
"Well dat be perfect. So what do we do about it?"
"Well… We need to wake the druids ourselves. Which means we'll have to punch our way up through Ashenvale ourselves."
"Ya, dat sounds… Like it's gonna be bad. Marching through de territory of our prospective allies, and killing anyone who opposes da march."
He looked like he was taking it in stride though, despite his words.
"Couldn't we just send a flying team to do it?" Jaina proposed.
"That way we can minimize elven casualties as much as possible before we make this alliance."
"No, unfortunately not." Thrall said. "I had the exact same thought… But the horn of Cenarius, which we need to wake the Druids, is guarded by stone giants. Who, just like Infernals, are very difficult to deal with magic. We're gonna need cannons to deal with them. And that means an army."
"Also, there is another thing we need to do. A task for you Vol'jin!"
"And dat be?"
"There are tribes of Dark Trolls living in the northern Forests. We need YOU to make contact with them, and recruit them to our cause. Preferably to join the Horde, but if not simple Alliances will do. The Invasion of the Burning Legion is as existential a threat to them as it is to us. They MUST ally with us, or perish. You must make them see that."
It was… Strange the way she just said that. Almost like she was ordering him. A mere commander speaking to a king like this… It would never have happened. Yet no one batted an eye at the exchange. This was normal around the Horde's war tables.
She spoke good common too. Very good.
"Ah… Ah, can probably pull dat off, ya. Getting dem to join the Horde… Probably ain't gonna happen though."
After that, it was mostly questions of logistics. How many men would march north, how many would stay to guard the tree passes in and out of the Barrens and Durotar just in case, how would they go about defending their coastlines, and so on.
The Tauren in particular took a damnably long time to settle on a course of action. The problem with any democratic institution.
Even when they all agreed on something, they spent HOURS just debating exactly how to go about fixing it.
Compared to their slowness, the various monarchs(Her included) were able to make quick, and decisive decisions. As it should be.
Finally, they were all done, but rather than everyone breaking up, Thrall instead decided he would like a word with Vol'jin and Jaina privately.
After everyone else had left the room, Thrall let out a long, tired sigh, weariness washing over him.
She knew that feeling well too.
"Tired?"
"Like you would not believe."
He pinched his brows, hard.
"And yet… I'm still not done."
Vol'jin chuckled, though Jaina went over to her own chest which had been placed in a corner of the room. This seemed like a pretty good point to give Thrall her gift.
"So what did ya want to talk about with us?"
"...Right… Your friend, Zalazane…"
"What about him?"
While Jaina was rummaging through it to pull out a wrapped piece of paper, she froze completely at Thrall's next words.
"...Well… There is no good way to break this news to you… But your friend Zalazane seems to have been killed by a bronze dragon who is currently impersonating him."
Silence. Deadly silence.
Jaina for her part, still on her knee had turned to look at Thrall and Vol'jin.
"...Dat be a very, VERY bad joke Thrall." The Troll said in a voice, utterly, completely devoid of his usual, calm demeanor.
"I would very much prefer it if it were… Unfortunately… During my journey into the Depths of Stonetalon peak, I had… A meeting with a spirit of some kind. One who gave me a vision of the world, past, present, and future. And through that vision, I discovered a horrible, horrible truth. The orange dragons… Including the ones who guided us to destroy the centaurs before a certain date?"
Thrall's voice changed from tired, to wroth.
"They have been playing us, for fools. They are manipulating events from behind the scenes. THEY were the ones who led the Night Elves to attack us in the Vale in the east, after making certain that we spent a huge amount of time dealing with the centaurs… Just enough that by the time we were done, Lady Jaina would lead her expedition west before us, leading to the clashes between them and the Warsong."
His grip on the table's edge was so strong that it broke between them.
"They PLANNED for my brother to face Cenarius because they WANTED him to drink the Demon Blood anew... And they went through great efforts to make it happen. Those bastards..."
Jaina, who hadn't even known the Bronze Dragonflight was involved in any of this, was utterly baffled.
"But… Why? Why would they replace Vol'jin's friend? How do you even know about it?"
"Because after I returned to the Barrens, during my trip around the land, O sought out the great spirits of the world to seek their guidance about these… Treacherous Dragons. They told me much and more… But also that all Dragons are capable of magical shapeshifting. Able to flawlessly imitate other races… Even trees. And so, with the spirits' great guidance… And the helmet the demons gave to Grom as a catalyst… I performed an ancient, and powerful magical ritual. It gave a perfect sensus, of exactly how many Orcs, Tauren, and Trolls there are in my realm… And also how many Dragons. After that, it was not hard to discover where they were."
"And Zalazane… The Zalazane I met… Is one of them?"
"Yes. The damnable dragons have infiltrated important levers of the Horde… Fremde isn't one of them… But one of her companions IS, manipulating her from the shadows without her knowledge. There was another Dragon hidden at the Crossroads, one in Cairne's camp, as well as one of Magatha's men. And on the echo Islands… I am sorry for your loss Vol'jin. I really am."
The Troll did not say anything. Instead, he got up, and walked out with a cold, seething energy, leaving Thrall and Jaina alone.
Thrall sighed when he was gone. And leaned back in his chair.
Jaina, finally having gotten together a bag of wrapped Chocolate, sat beside him.
"What a bloody mess… I had hoped… I went across the seas to avoid more direct conflict… And yet I seem to find more of it here than I ever did in Lordaeron."
Jaina felt a pang of familiar sympathy. She knew that feeling well.
"Yeah… Tell me about it. I came here with my people to escape the undead… And here they come chasing us to our new doorsteps."
There was more though, she could tell.
"Here."
She offered a bit of chocolate, wrapped in paper, which she had ripped open, leaving the dark brown treasure inside open for bites.
"What's this?"
"Dark Chocolate. I think you'll like it."
Thrall looked it over with a curious if tired expression.
"So this is chocolate? I've read about it, but…"
"It's pretty rare, even back in the eastern continents. Everywhere that is… But Dalaran."
Thrall took a bite.
He obviously enjoyed the taste and took the effort to savour it before he swallowed. It was as he was on his second bite, that his mood improved drastically.
"Ancestors! This… This great! I had no idea it was this good!"
She smiled.
"Yes… Chocolate is pretty amazing… But beyond taste, it also has the rather nifty side effect of helping with depression."
Thrall froze, in the middle of his third bite.
"I… See… In that case… You have my thanks lady Proudmoore."
He paused talking as he took another bite.
"How did you know?"
"Thrall… Your brother died a few weeks back. It would genuinely worry me if you were not still affected by that loss. But you are. Like most sane individuals."
Thrall nodded. Then took another bite.
"You should know… That Chocolate is not a be-all, end-all cure to deal with depression. It helps… But you will have to come to terms with what caused it on your own."
He nodded.
"It would be, far, far too convenient if it did."
Thrall's eyes went to the chest.
"You have quite a lot of chocolate."
"You can keep the chest. I have far, far more at home. Also, it's enchanted to keep everything in it, cold and fresh. You'll probably find some use for that."
He nodded.
"I'm guessing… You use it for your own needs then?"
Jaina felt like denying it… But she did not.
Thrall had never lied to her about Grom.
"I… I Have needed it, yes. To deal with… With everything that happened back in the east… Back home… And… Arthas."
She sighed.
"He was my… Betrothed you see."
At that, Thrall sat up straighter.
"I see… I am sorry about what happened then. I am… Well aware of just how much it hurts to lose those you love to darkness."
"You got Grom back though."
"Yes. True… I lost him anew right after… But I am glad I brought him back from the abyss."
"I… Doubt that will happen with me and Arthas Thrall. But… What he became, is not really the thing that haunts my dreams… It's how he became it."
She didn't elaborate, but Thrall understood.
"You think you may have made another decision at some point, which would have prevented it?"
"Yes… There… There was one moment when he asked me to come with him to Northrend. If I had gone… I may have prevented what happened to him. His fall, his death… His resurrection…"
"You do not know that though. Not for certain."
"No. Maybe it's stupid… Maybe nothing I could have done would have made a difference. Maybe it was all written in fate before we were even born… But I cannot help but wonder…"
Thrall nodded.
In later times she did not recall exactly how it led to the topic, but somehow, she had begun talking about Arthas. Their childhood together. Their love, their passion, their triumphs, and failings… How it all fell apart.
And they had talked of Thrall's childhood as well. His friends and family. Rise of the new horde, the resurrection around the campfires, the breaking of chains. And his loved ones most of all. His sister, his father, and his brother.
Their good times, their bad times, their ends.
There were many things that made humans and Orcs very different people. But one aspect they were the exact same. They both loved. They both grieved. They cared about the same things when it came down to it.
Their families, their loves, their friends, their nations, and their countrymen.
Their homes. Old and new.
