Zuluhed rode his Worg at the head of the procession; as a noble Warchief, his own safety was of utmost importance.
Uther.
Zuluhed spotted Uther was under heavy protection, at a glance.
Uther the Lightbringer, a great hero of mankind, is always surrounded by Paladins whenever he personally Charge. These are his trusted confidants, ready to protect him and sacrifice themselves at any moment.
Often, his Personal Guard would be wiped out after a battle.
Uther was unharmed, his hairstyle was perfectly intact, and after years of fighting, his armor remained as new as ever.
Upon seeing Zuluhed, Uther hurriedly rode over, a fawning smile on his face.
Despite his defeat, Zuluhed still looked down on Uther with disdain and arrogance.
"I have defeated that piece of trash Prestor, proving once again that Orcs are the finest race in Azeroth. Out of respect for your long journey, I'll leave you with a few enemies, lest you return unable to face your King. Don't let me look down on you, Uther. Go forth and fight bravely."
The remnants of the rearguard had been wiped out by the Ogres. In the distance, billowing smoke and rumbling sounds filled the air as the massive Ogres ran, causing the earth to tremble.
Uther wasn't a fool; he already understood the Orcs' predicament.
But he dared not expose Zuluhed's lie, and said respectfully and obediently:
"Your Warchief, the Order of the Silver Hand are ready. For Azeroth, for the noble Orcs, we are willing to give our lives."
Zuluhed had no time to say more. He led his exhausted troops, bypassing the Order of the Silver Hand, and fled towards Grim Batol.
Faced with the menacing Ogres, the young Paladin of the Silver Hand trembled with fear, his face turning pale.
In the war against the Orcs, this renowned knightly order suffered heavy losses and was once known as the Orcs' meat warehouse. Almost all the Veterans had died in battle, and now most of them were new recruits.
The Ogres were fast, but not as fast as the Paladins ' horses. An officer, seeing the Ogres coming in overwhelming numbers, whispered a word of advice.
"Lord Uther, there are too many Ogres. We are no match for them. We should make plans to retreat as soon as possible. I am willing to stay behind to cover our retreat."
Uther roared furiously, "Useless trash! We Paladins never retreat! Anyone who dares to suggest retreat will be killed without mercy!"
Along the way, the Paladins were eaten by many Orcs, and most of the soldiers were resentful and demoralized.
But Uther had a way; his armor emitted a golden light that expanded along the ground, quickly enveloping the entire knightly order.
Under the Holy Light, death descends.
This is Uther's unique skill that allowed him to feed countless young people to the Orcs: the Aura of Courage.
The Paladins were filled with courage; they forgot about sacrifice and fear, and their fighting spirit soared.
At this moment, the Ogres had caught up, and their numbers outnumbered Uther's Paladins.
These terrifying creatures, each over three meters tall, possess tough hides and thick layers of fat. Many Ogres have developed bony exoskeletons that protect their bodies like armor.
Magsor, the Ogre leader, raised his hand and stopped the procession. He was taken aback when he saw the Paladins ' fierce fighting spirit.
"I am Chief Magsor, sent by Lord Prestor to protect Alterac. All humans have been properly resettled. We have no intention of being enemies with humans. Please make way. The Dragonmaw Clan must die."
Uther raised his warhammer and shouted.
"Ogres, you dare to oppose the Orcs, you dare to oppose all of Azeroth! Paladins, Charge! For the Holy Light!"
Enveloped in Holy Light, the courageous Paladin bravely charged towards the Ogre.
This was a one-sided massacre; facing Ogres, tall and strong creatures, head-on confrontation was practically suicide.
The warhammer, having exhausted all its strength, slammed into the Ogre, which only swayed slightly.
Then, a terrifyingly large hand, as big as a fan, grabbed the tiny humans and slammed them to the ground.
The Ogre's weapon was enormous, and when swung, it created a powerful gust of wind; a slight misstep could result in Hamstring.
Limbs and severed bodies flew everywhere, blood flowed like rivers, Paladins fought bravely against Ogres, relentlessly entangled in their tracks, and sacrificed their young lives for the safety of the Dragonmaw Clan.
Unfortunately, their bravery was futile; the Paladin force was wiped out in no time.
Only Uther the Lightbringer retreated at the start of the battle and disappeared long after it ended.
"What a bunch of useless trash, idiots. They deserve to die. So young."
Having escaped to a safe place, Uther slowed his horse down, letting it roam freely, his thoughts wandering.
Zuluhed has been defeated, all because of Lord Prestor, who betrayed the Alliance.
This was a crushing defeat, and we must find a way to explain it to King Terenas.
Lordaeron.
Uther returned, his robes stained with blood, clearly from a fierce battle.
"King Majesty, terrible news! Lord Prestor has betrayed us! He has sold out the people of Alterac to the Ogres and ambushed the Dragonmaw Clan."
Terenas abruptly stood up from his throne, veins bulging on his forehead.
"Prestor ruined everything for me; I trusted him so much."
Terenas paced anxiously back and forth; in his plan, the Dragonmaw Clan's conquest of Alterac was the first step.
Then Terenas will release the Orcs from the Internment Camp, Orgrim Doomhammer will become their leader, and they will join forces with the Dragonmaw Clan in Alterac.
This would greatly reduce the pressure on Lordaeron, and they would no longer have to worry about food for the Internment Camps.
To ensure the plan's success, Terenas secretly released Orgrim was imprisoned in Undercity.
Unfortunately, it's all too late now. Prestor has betrayed us, and Lordaeron still has to bear the brunt of the Orcs' suffering in the Internment Camp alone.
"Prestor!"
Terenas's gaunt face was filled with hatred, and her eyes were brimming with resentment.
"I thought he was a smart man, but he turned out to be a fool. He has to pay the price."
Uther said with difficulty, "Prestor has Ogres backing him; we are no match for him."
Terenas sneered:
"Uther, have you forgotten? Azeroth has Order. Prestor wasn't the first. History has taught us that all who challenge Order meet a dead end."
Uther pondered for a moment, then understood what this so-called Order was.
"Indeed, Prestor is testing the patience of the Guardian Medivh."
The plan against Alterac was approved by the Guardian Medivh; the mere Dragonmaw Orcs who died in Alterac was enough to enrage Medivh.
Terenas instructed:
"Uther, immediately summarize the details of this war. I've sent Court Mages to Karazhan with the materials. I have a premonition that Prestor's head will hang at the gates of Lordaeron, and I will prepare a lavish funeral for him."
Uther's hatred for Prestor remained undiminished, and he hurriedly went down to prepare.
A few days later, the Court Mages brought Medivh's reply.
The reply was very brief.
"Terenas, I need to see your sincerity within three days. If you fail, the Menethil royal line will end."