Hyjal.
It was… Far, far grander in scope than how Fremde had believed it would be.
The hills and green grass seemed to stretch and stretch as far as one could see, flanked on two sides by mountains as tall as the Himalayas.
And yet… The air was natural, warm, and filled her with energy with every breath.
There was not a hint that the air was thin, nor was the temperature anything other than the perfect mixture between warm and pleasantly temperate.
Magic seeped into every inch of this valley.
The last remains of the power of eternity. The power that the Kaldorei had harnessed to conquer the World.
An empire with a capital city that had stretched from the modern Maelstrom to Azhara in modern Kalimdor.
Temples so large they could be seen as massive domes on the map.
The buildings all around the valley might not be as majestic as that broken empire, but they spoke of civilization in their own way.
Huge marble and granite buildings dotted the landscape.
Ten thousand years of work and effort. Lodges, temples, barracks, storehouses.
It reminded her in no small part of the Pelennor fields.
A land that would in short order be obliterated as the machine of war was about to sweep over it.
In a mere week's time, Nothing of this would still be standing.
It would all be swept away as countless Demons rolled across these hills.
As they marched, Fremde felt something though.
Not sadness at what would soon be lost.
Nor worry about the upcoming odds.
Instead… The old excitement was starting to burn. The lust for battle that was such an intrinsically deep part of Orcs.
She saw it in the men around her too. The younger ones at least.
The older men were far, far more somber and silent than was proper for an Orcish host.
Years and years of regrets on their shoulders, they had all come for something more than just battles.
They had come to give their blood.
The only thing they had to give that could in any way make up for their own actions.
Blood and Honor.
The Orcish way.
I
"We'll be making our stands here, and here."
Thrall pointed at two specific valleys with nice, easy choke spots for entrance.
"Lady Proudmoore and her forces will hold the first valley, with it's smaller entrance. Backed up by Cannoners and Night Elf troops they should have no problem putting a massive dent in the Demon's march."
Jaina nodded.
"We'll need to build a set of strong walls from one end to another, but other than that… It is as Thrall says. It's a natural defensive spot to deal max amounts of damage."
"The problem is this area."
He tapped the map again, this time showcasing a plateau on the south side of the mountainside.
"This area has a whole host of small passes leading into it up the mountainside. Each of which needs to be held against any invading party. If the demons can take control over it, they will be able to bypass and worse, flank Jaina's forces from the back."
Fremde nodded.
So these were the mountain passes, one of which Broxigar would have earned fame and glory.
"On the plus side, there is also a smaller plateau down the mountainside. So long as we hold that part, we will be within range of raining down cannon fire upon the main bulk of the demons."
"So… That's where I'll be stationing Hellscream then?"
"I'll leave that to your judgement. Regardless, you will have to hold for as long as you possibly can. If this battlefront breaks and you are forced to retreat before the Human army has begun to pull back…"
He left the implication unsaid, leaving Fremde to just nod.
"Don't worry, Warchief… I'll do my part. We'll bloody well hold on until we get the signal, no matter the cost."
If the original armies had managed it, then they bloody well could as well, with all their cannons and artillery.
"Good. I'll leave the deployment of which troops where to you as well."
I
Jaina sat back and took a long draught of her pipe. She had begun doing that more and more lately. It helped dealing with the stress of a campaign.
Around her, several of her upper men did the same as others stood by the table with the war map and mumbled to each other in hushed voices.
The scouts had made their reports, and it would happen either today or tomorrow.
It was too late to fret and worry about things now. Either their preparations and defences would be enough, or…
Their walls were strong and held by gunners, cannoneers, archers, Crossbowmen, and mages.
It would be the spot where the first, and strongest hammer blow would fall.
Humans, Horde, and Elves had all prepared themselves for a stand together.
They had to hold until every bullet was spent, every bolt fired, every shell thrown, every cannonball buried in their foes' lines, and every bit of Mana they had spent and gone.
She wondered if this was how Lothar had felt on the eve of the battle for Blackrock Spire.
This was it.
One way or another, her efforts would be at an end.
Either they would march on to total victory… Or the final, Ignoble defeat of the entire world.
It was not what she had set out to do. It was not anything she had envisioned herself doing either.
There were doubts… Fears… The biggest of which was the prospect of Arthas taking the field.
What would happen if she had to face him in battle?
She did not know.
I
Thrall did something he had been putting off.
It was in truth, not a hard thing to do for a Shaman. In fact, it was something any mediocre master of the Art could have done with ease… Provided the spirits in question would answer, and proved willing.
He meditated for a long while as outside his hut, the preparations for war were taking place.
It was a camp filled with so many emotions. Doubt, eagerness, anticipation, a desire for redemption, anger, the building bloodlust of a coming battle, and a certainess that he knew what he was doing.
They all did.
Even his personal friends, who knew him better than any other trusted him to lead them to victory. Cairne, Vol'jin, Drek'thar, Fremde, Jaina Proudmoore…
All of them were absolutely certain that he would lead them to a glorious victory.
They looked to him to be a bedrock to gather around. Certain that he was doing some great and powerful magical preparations here as he meditated.
Instead… He did something that he had been too much of a coward to do before now.
He had been too afraid of the possible answer if he went through with it.
But now was the last chance. It might be his last day on Earth. He had to Know. One way or another.
He felt the shift in place come over him, as he finally reached what his spirit had been seeking.
As he opened them again, he felt the Spirit world all around him… But he did not see the environment around him.
Instead… It was a Castle Courtyard.
Not a human one though.
The buildings were made in a style foreign to him… But the banners and roof tiles were not.
The red roofs of Orcs… And the banners of the various clans. Including the Purple and Gold of the Warsong under Grommash Hellscream.
He felt a smile come over him, as he saw the figure in front of him, sitting by a small table for two, with a couple of jugs of some strange drink, the purple and Gold banner set up behind him.
The man did not beckon him over, but neither did he welcome him with a gesture. The grin though… The grin was the same as it had always been in life.
"Hello, Little Brother."
He sat down.
"Hi, Grom."
Grom looked… Better. That was the only way to describe him.
The lean body looked healthier, the wear and tear of age and slowly wasting away from fighting the effect of Demonic addiction was gone now.
His face too lacked… Something. It was more at ease, more confident.
Strangely enough, the green skin was not gone.
That was an oddity for Orcs born on Draenor
Their imagined best self usually had the brown skin of the Orcs before the corruption. But not Grom.
He still carried his green skin here, even in death.
But in sharp contrast to that were his eyes. His eyes were still the clear, azure blue they had been once the curse was lifted. Not a trace of demonic corruption.
Grom poured him a cup fashioned out of an Ogre's skull and handed it to him.
"It's good to see you brother. It's good to see you alive and well!"
He laughed. And storms if it did not make Thrall feel better to hear that old familiar laugh.
"Yes… I feel the same way. I have sorely missed you, Grom. Your strength… Your confidence."
"Isn't that the way… I felt the same when my father died."
His grin faded.
"It's… Strange to know such things… I see so much more now… More than I ever saw in life."
He took a drink. Then noticed Thrall wasn't drinking himself.
"DRINK MAN! This is good Bloodied Ridge Brew! You'll never taste it in the living world! Enjoy it!"
Thrall took a drought.
Then nearly gagged.
"Oh… Ugh, that's… Blessed Ancestors!"
Grom laughed.
"Strong yeah!? Drink up!" Then he turned more solemn. "You'll need some spirit for what's to come."
Thrall glared at him… Then forced another drought, almost gagging.
"Ugh… You drank this on Draenor?"
"It's an acquired taste. It gets way better after your throat gets used to the burning sensation."
"I'll take your word for it. So… Where are we? I haven't seen this place before."
Truth be told, he had visited precious few places in the Orcish afterlife.
"I'm not surprised… This glorious piece of Land is dedicated to Blademasters, who also happened to be a chieftain of a Clan… And not a part of the Burning Blade."
"That's… Quite specific."
Grom laughed uproariously at that.
"Tell me about it Brother! There's been a grand total of 42 of us who made it here throughout all of history! But it beats the burning fires of Hell any day."
Grom looked him in the eyes.
"That IS why you're here right? To see if I ended up in Hell or not?"
"Yes." Thrall admitted.
Grom nodded, then took another draught as Thrall forced down another one.
Storms this was a powerful brew!
He suspected that if it was real, he would be absolutely smashed by now.
"If I were judged by the Humans Light… That would have been my fate no doubt." He poured himself another cup.
"But Hades… Hades cares far more about your end than it does your past. More specifically what you did before and when you died, and more importantly, WHY."
He looked down at the drink, the red liquid.
"You're doing good work with the rest of the men. They NEED this, whether they die or not. Far more than they know."
Thrall nodded.
"Yes… Though admittedly, they have a good story to follow. It's always easier when you have someone to light the way."
"Yes… You showed me the way when I needed it. You'll do fine for the rest as well."
Thrall took a draught as Grom continued.
"You've been doing a fine job since I died… Hammering together more Trolls, bringing the glorious Elves to your cause… And you even managed to squeeze in as smooth a courtship start as any I've ever soon on top of it all. That's something Orgrim never managed."
The horribly strong drink caught in his throat, as Thrall harked and coughed.
'W-WHAT? WHEN!?"
"When you were flirting with the Human Minx obviously. When else?
"I DID NO SUCH THING!"
"Oh?" Grom sounded bemused.
"All that training, showing off your sweaty, brick-built body in front of her before a meeting, then not putting on a shirt during your actual talks? I've seen a lot of courtships that started similarly. Putting yourself on display for your Woman to judge… That's how a REAL man begins it."
Thrall narrowed his eyes. He recognized Grom's expression.
"You're fucking with me."
"A bit." Grom said with a chuckle.
"You ARE hilariously inexperienced at courtship. It's hysterical to watch. But… It IS how the warriors who witnessed it are going to think. You need to take that into consideration before you decide how to go about your next step there."
Thrall, his cheeks still burning considered that.
It was not like he… Was completely opposed to the idea.
He did not have the complete aversion to Human women a lot of Orcs had, but… He would let it lie for the moment.
"All of that is a pointless question unless we triumph on the morrow. I'll worry about it if there is a world for us all to live in."
Orcs and Humans alike.
I
Cris'bal stretched, then lay back down.
Besides the rest of the campfire, the other Dark Troll leaders were talking, arguing, and bickering about the future.
He supposed he might understand it. Unlike him and the Shatterspear bossman, the rest of them had agreed to leave behind everything they had ever known for the sake of survival.
It was natural that they were feeling apprehension, and so were seeking some comfort in the only thing they knew. Bickering with other Trolls.
The world they would have if they won, would be a very different one than the one they had a year ago.
It was a strange concept. For the first time… Ever, the Dark Trolls would all be unified under a single banner… Well except the ones who lived here in Hyjal anyway. They had refused to join the Horde, though they would fight alongside them against the Demonic Legions.
Each of them had been promised an Oasis in the Barrens.
That had for centuries been the home of the Centaurs and seemed as sure to stick around as the Night Elves.
Then out of nowhere, the Horde had showed up, brought them to extinction, unified the Tauren Tribes, killed Cenarius, and had now done the same with the Dark Trolls.
Yes, the world was changing.
He'd lived long enough to have gone through such periods before.
The rise of Humanity, Dwarvenkind, and Gnomanity…
The fall of the Frostmane, Amani, and Gurubashi Empires…
Yes, he had seen his fair share of cataclysmic events…
The main difference was that this time it was HIS corner of the World that was about to be flipped, turned upside down.
The only question that remained was what sort of world would it be once this was all over?
I
Tyrande joined her love as he sat on a rock, overlooking the Horde encampment.
"It's really something is it not?"
Tyrande turned her head and looked out over it as well.
"It is." She admitted.
"I wonder… How will this "Horde" be once this is all over? We are going to make peace… But will that last? Their leader… Thrall, is a genuine man. One who wishes coexistence with us… But he is a mortal being. He will die one day, and be replaced with someone new. Someone who might not be as interested in friendly relations."
"Like we will?"
"...Yes, I suppose we shall as well. It's… Frightening. To know we have to leave the Night Elves in the hands of someone else."
Tyrande nodded.
"The Kaldorei Empire is weak now. Even if we win, our most fertile lands will be ruined for decades and decades, and so many of our people have, and will fall in the battle. Not to mention the loss of our immortality…"
"It will be a new world, my love… One we will have to live in. We must make the Night Elves strong enough to survive beyond us."
Tyrande nodded.
There was… Something she had considered.
Something a year ago she would have deemed complete and total madness… But now, the reality of the future that would await the Night Elves demanded extreme measures.
"In regards to the Horde… There might be a solution."
"Oh? Has the Goddess blessed you with a vision my Love? A sight?"
"No. However, I did learn something from Lady Proudmoore. A bit of information she might have intended for us to learn… Yet was such a natural thing to talk about that she felt no need to hide it. You see Malfurion… The Horde's journey to Kalimdor was not one of their own preference."
"Yes… The Demons chased them here."
"No, the Demons chased Lady Proudmoore and her subjects here. The Orcs left the eastern Lands before the Demons got a foothold in this world."
Malfurion was puzzled by that.
"Then why did they leave those lands?"
"Because they had to. For you see my love… The Horde was crushed by a mighty Coalition of nations called… The Alliance."
