At night, campfires flickered across the vast lands of Durotar, marking the presence of the Tauren camp.
The walls of Orgrimmar were also brightly lit, and the Orcs dared not let their guard down, as they had to be wary of a night raid by the Tauren.
Onboard the Sea's Sovereignty, Robbie recalled the battle of the day and, with some questions still lingering, asked Vanessa beside him for clarification.
"Why is there no Shaman legion among the 200,000- Orcs Legion?"
Vanessa, being the leader of the Brotherhood and more knowledgeable about the Horde's history, explained, "The Horde's Shaman are essentially the Earthen Ring organization; they only obey Thrall's commands."
The training of a Shaman is not like that of an ordinary Orcs soldier, where simply being strong enough is sufficient.
Shaman need to have the talent to communicate with the elements, learn various spellcasting techniques, and receive guidance from renowned masters and years of training.
With Thrall dead, the Orcs impersonating Thrall clearly hadn't yet taken control of the Earthen Ring.
Now that he heard that, Robbie understood why the Orcs had lost so badly.
During the day, through observing the Undead Tauren legion, Robbie realized that the Azeroth Continent shouldn't have such an overpowered unit, and guessed that these Undead Tauren must have some unknown weaknesses.
"Let's go capture a Tauren and study it," Robbie suggested.
The Tauren camp was filled with rolling tents, and the air was filled with the enticing aroma of meat.
Over the roaring campfire, large chunks of Orcs meat sizzled as they roasted. The undead Tauren had a great appetite and were enjoying the fresh roasted meat with gusto.
What goes around comes around, and now the Orcs have received their just deserts, becoming food for the Tauren. Cries of agony and pleas for mercy can be heard from time to time as the captured Orcs beg for their lives, but these raging bulls show no Mercy whatsoever.
Exhausted from the fierce battles of the day, many of the Tauren had been resurrected fell asleep by the campfire.
Inside the chieftain's golden tent in the center of the camp, Cairne Bloodhoof sat smugly before him, a large pile of letters—letters of allegiance from various races of the Barrens, expressing their submission.
Quilboar, Goblins, Trolls, Dwarves, Gnomes, and even the Tauren, the mortal enemies of the Centaur.
Herzrul Bloodmark, the leader of the Centaurs of Kolkar, expressed his loyalty in an extremely obsequious manner in the letter.
He referred to himself as both a godfather and a loving father, recognizing Cairne as his own father, wholeheartedly supporting the Tauren's Overlord in the Barrens, and expressing his willingness to become Cairne's mount.
Cairne got goosebumps after seeing it. Herzrul Bloodmark, this Centaur, was even older than him, yet it was so shameless. But having such a mount was not bad; it made him look good.
Carl Thornrib, the elderly Quilboar priestess, went even further, proposing to marry Cairne. Among the Quilboar, this was a great honor, a sign of reverence for the strong, leaving Cairne utterly embarrassed.
Just thinking about that bloated body and ugly face made Cairne almost vomit.
Soldiers brought over large chunks of Orcs meat, Cairne chewed heartily, feeling exceptionally good and exhilarated. His long-held ambition was about to be realized, and only Orgrimmar stood in his way.
Robbie and Vanessa teamed up and successfully captured a Tauren, who turned out to be a low-ranking officer.
The Tauren officer was taken aboard the Sea's Sovereignty, and Robbie saw a composition of Point, Line, and Planes; at such close range, he could finally see them very clearly.
The Blood-red Threadworms are transforming the Tauren's bodies, making them stronger, but an ominous, mysterious, and eerie aura lurks within them, permeating every muscle of the Tauren.
Robbie guessed that these nematodes were draining the Tauren's life force.
The Black Dragon Princess and the little girl impersonating Jaina also joined in, and the group studied the immortal Tauren together.
When attacked by Frost, these Blood-red Threadworms will freeze, but will not die.
However, under the influence of the Flames, the Blood-red Threadworms quickly lose their vitality and can no longer heal their injuries.
Fire is the weakness of the Undead Tauren.
As the saying goes, a defeated army collapses like a house of cards, and a sense of dejection permeated the entire Orgrimmar.
The Orcs looked around warily at each other, their gazes differing, occasionally punctuated by whispers and unusual glances. This atmosphere of despair also fueled a flurry of rumors.
Vol'jin locked himself in the chieftain's tent for a day and a night. When he came out, he saw a group of restless Orcs generals who had also been up all night, their eyes bloodshot, waiting to persuade Vol'jin to surrender.
"Warchief Vol'jin."
A plump and muscular female Orcs, dressed in a long golden robe and with a thick gold chain around her neck, was the first to step forward.
This woman was none other than the Horde's richest woman, the Wyvern administrator Doras. She had a round belly and her voice was full of Pride and authority.
"You must make a decision. Look, our people cannot bear another wound. They have already sacrificed too much for Orgrimmar."
"Lord Doras," Vol'jin dared not show the utmost disrespect to this wealthy man, and had to resort to some lies to boost morale, shouting:
"We have not yet been defeated. The spirits have told us that as long as we persevere, victory will surely come. Orgrimmar still has over one hundred thousand warriors. We have impregnable walls, we have no shortage of food, and there is no reason for us to fail. Gentlemen, let us reclaim our former glory, and victory will ultimately be ours."
Doras shook his enormous head and said with a hint of sarcasm:
"Vol'jin, someone as intelligent as you should be able to see the situation clearly. We have already lost; history has chosen the superior Tauren. Fortunately, this is merely an internal conflict within the Horde. Our Horde's only mortal enemy is the Alliance. As long as you relinquish the Warchief and allow the Horde to rest in the glorious shadow of the benevolent father Cairne Bloodhoof, we will all gain honor."
"A loving father?" Vol'jin's lips curled into a smirk, and he almost burst out laughing.
Vol'jin knew that this was probably not just Doras's opinion; she represented everyone.
This cunning female Orcs has bribed everyone. It is said that she has an investment in Dalaran, and even if the city falls, the mages will take her to Dalaran to live out her days in peace. Vol'jin has also heard that she has some secret affair with the Night Elves.
"Lord Doras, allow me to think this over carefully. You should return first. May all spirits protect us." Vol'jin looked at the dark mass of Orcs and felt a powerful pressure, even a sense of danger.
Back in his bedroom, a weary Vol'jin fell into a deep sleep.
Awakening from a chaotic nightmare, his secret informant was already waiting at the door, whispering a report that a coup was brewing in Orgrimmar. Some of the Orcs' important generals were plotting to overthrow Vol'jin's rule and send his head to Cairne as an atonement. The members of the conspiracy were all very influential figures.
Has the situation deteriorated to this extent?
Vol'jin was helpless. He knew that his greatest weakness was his race—how could a Troll lead a massive Orcs Legion?
There was no way to turn the tide, Vol'jin began to think about how to escape.
"The casualties among Orcs and Tauren are far from enough; we must maintain a balance between the two sides."
Robbie explained his point of view to Vanessa, the Black Dragon Princess, and the little girl impersonating Jaina: for the sake of the Alliance, this war must continue, requiring more bloodshed and sacrifice.