Vol'jin was awakened by his guards. He rushed out of his bedroom and saw the raging floodwaters.
As the Warchief of the Horde, Vol'jin had long prepared to flee. His residence was located at the highest point of Orgrimmar, in an inconspicuous airship, with loyal guards on duty around the clock.
Before the flood arrived, the airships, having received advance warning, climbed into the air at top speed.
Vol'jin watched helplessly as the murky floodwaters, carrying broken branches and stones, poured into the streets of Orgrimmar. Rows of houses collapsed, and countless Warriors were awakened from their sleep, struggling to survive in the floodwaters.
The floodwaters were devastating, and the murky sewage quickly turned Orgrimmar into a vast, swampy wasteland.
Vol'jin let out a sigh. The disaster had struck months earlier than expected, and Orgrimmar was completely unprepared.
In his regret, Vol'jin realized his oversight. He should have foreseen this; it was a dereliction of duty on his part as chieftain. If Thrall were still alive, he would never have made such a mistake.
Unfortunately, it's too late to undo what's done.
Vol'jin hurriedly tore open the communication scroll and activated the teleportation service provided by Dalaran.
Don't assume you're safe just because you're on an airship. Vol'jin was trying to guess Cairne's reaction. Would the Undead Tauren send an airship to intercept them? Vol'jin wasn't sure, especially with Sylvanas also involved.
Dozens of airships rose from Orgrimmar, and the figures on board were all very familiar; Vol'jin was not the only one who had prepared to escape.
Vol'jin saw Doras, the richest woman in the Horde, whose airship was large and luxurious, adorned with jewels.
The fat Doras leaned against the deck railing, coldly watching the countless soldiers struggling to survive below. There was no Mercy in his eyes, only heartache for the loss of Wealth.
Sagulos Saurfang and Gordo Nazgrim, these two newly risen Orcs generals, rightfully moved their homes into the warship.
As the floodwaters rose, two of Orgrimmar's most powerful warships slowly ascended into the air. Two young Orcs stood on the deck, glaring menacingly at Vol'jin, their killing intent palpable.
The shields on the warship's sides were already open, Vol'jin could see the dark muzzles of the cannons.
Vol'jin sensed the killing intent and pressure; he knew very well that someone had to be held accountable for the failure of this war.
"Honorable Warchief Vol'jin, Dracula Shredwheel has answered your call."
The Goblin's fawning voice rang out behind him, Vol'jin's eyes lit up, feeling more confident.
It's finally here.
Vol'jin remained unfazed, turned and walked into the cabin, where he saw a richly dressed mage with a thick hood obscuring his face and carrying an inconspicuous staff. Judging from his build, he was likely a human.
Vol'jin understood this; sending away such a prominent figure as Vol'jin involved certain risks, and concealing his identity was essential to avoid retaliation later.
From the Archmage, Vol'jin sensed a powerful magical force, which immediately put his mind at ease.
"Your Warchief, how many of your men do you wish to take with you? We hope you take as much treasure as possible. Tauren, what a fortified city, how much Wealth accumulated over so many years, and it's all been destroyed."
Dracula Shredwheel asked in a low voice, while also grumbling a few words to the Tauren.
Vol'jin smiled, clapped his hands, Vol'jin a Troll looked exactly like Vol'jin stepped out, dressed exactly like him.
This was a stand-in prepared in advance.
The Troll disguised as Vol'jin bowed respectfully to Vol'jin and went up the stairs to the deck.
With a resolute expression, Vol'jin declared, "As the Warchief of the Horde, a fearless leader, it is my duty to live and die with Orgrimmar. It is a great honor. From this day forward, Vol'jin is dead."
Although many Trolls perished in Orgrimmar, the Broken Isles' foundation remained, and the Darkspear Horde still possessed considerable strength.
Unfortunately, Vol'jin had too many enemies. First and foremost, Cairne would never let him go, and he didn't want to bring disaster to the Darkspear Horde.
Dracula Shredwheel in praise, "A wise choice! You truly deserve to be called the Warchief of the Horde. Azeroth will forever remember your valor. A Warchief, a great king, your courage will never be forgotten."
Vol'jin smiled subtly, clearly enjoying the Goblin's flattery.
"Let's begin. I must leave here. Take me to Sweetwater Cliff in the Zandalari Empire, to my warm villa, where my beauties await me."
The hooded Archmage nodded, opened Portal, and the three of them Portal.
Not long after the three figures disappeared, the Troll who looked remarkably like Vol'jin stood at the bow of the ship and shouted:
"I, Vol'jin, swear to live and die with Orgrimmar! Cairne, you can destroy Orgrimmar, but you cannot defeat the great Horde. For the Horde, for Azeroth, let my sacrifice bring about the rise of the Horde."
The airship swayed violently, its nose suddenly pulled up, the power unit frantically churning and emitting a screeching sound as if it were struggling under the strain, like a giant beast with its head held high. Then, its nose suddenly sank, and it plunged headfirst into the raging floodwaters.
Saurfang and Nazgrim watched in astonishment as the airship disappeared into the raging floodwaters, their expressions filled with admiration.
Only Doras smirked coldly and muttered, "What a cunning Vol'jin."
After the flood peak subsided, the floodwaters calmed down, and the Undead Tauren had been prepared, surrounded the area. Cairne Bloodhoof personally led the way, standing at the rear watching the battle. The Tauren, riding in small boats and rafts, slaughtered the survivors in the flood.
The few Orcs soldiers who managed to survive were slaughtered as soon as they reached the shore. The Orcs struggling in the water were powerless against the Tauren, and countless corpses floated on the surface.
Cairne Bloodhoof revealed a smug yet maniacal smile. Years of humiliation had finally been washed away; the Orcs had finally paid the price for their cruelty; the Tauren had completed their revenge.
Although the Tauren also paid a heavy price in this battle, hope remained. The surviving Tauren multiplied and thrived, and it wouldn't be long before they covered the land again.
In contrast, the few Orcs who escaped were not so lucky.
The Orcs' brutality made them the common enemy of Azeroth, and this cruel race was quickly wiped out. It is foreseeable that the Orcs will soon disappear from the racial hierarchy of Azeroth.
The Orcs on the airship watched helplessly as everything unfolded. They could only be thankful that the Tauren couldn't afford to buy enough airships, but they were equally powerless to stop the tragedy below.
Just then, a thick tentacle emerged from the water and swept away an Undead Tauren.
Subsequently, more and more tentacles emerged from the water, and the floating Orcs corpses, as well as the Undead Tauren riding in rafts and small boats, all became targets of the tentacles' attacks, being swept into the water and disappearing.
Cairne was horrified and immediately ordered the Undead Tauren in the water to retreat to the shore.
The Orcs on the airship were equally dumbfounded. These strange tentacles, resembling octopuses and carrying a dark and chilling aura, were undoubtedly the tentacles of the Old Gods.
Where did the tentacles of the Old Gods come from?
Doras, Saurfang, Nazgrim, the three Orcs who knew the truth, all changed color at the same time.
"It's Medivh, Everflesh Medivh, he's back."
With a roar, Doras scrambled and stumbled his obese body into the cabin.
"Everflesh Medivh, has broken free of the seal. Could it be the power of these floods?" Saurfang muttered in horror.
Cairne realized this too, and he hurriedly ordered the Undead Tauren to retreat.
A roar suddenly echoed from the depths of the murky floodwaters.
Giant waves rolled, and dozens of tentacles as thick as houses shot straight into the air, their target the airship.