Southshore.
Masts stood like a forest, and rows of large black ships were lined up on the sea.
Thrall stood on the dock, gazing at the massive fleet under the blazing sun, marveling at the extraordinary skill of the Burning Legion Engineers, who had built enough ships in less than a month.
The fleet was capable of transporting an army of 100,000 Orcs, plus a small number of armed warships responsible for logistics and protection.
Given Azeroth's limited technology, it would have taken decades to build such a fleet.
Thrall originally thought he was going to have a naval battle with the Darkspear Tribe.
The Darkspear Tribe has lived in the Sound Isles for a long time and has accumulated a considerable number of warships, which has already made Thrall tremble with fear.
Thrall was more worried about the Kul Tiras fleet. Orcs were not suited for naval warfare, and their escort ships were few in number. They would probably be sunk and become food for the Murlocs before they even reached the Echo Isles.
But now, there's nothing to worry about.
Initially, Thrall received a letter of allegiance from a Troll named Vol'jin, who expressed his utmost respect for Thrall, the Savior, and his longing for the Orcs, stating his willingness to submit to Thrall and serve him.
In his letter, Vol'jin detailed his plan to ambush Tide Lord Feralas, during the ritual.
The letter sent to Thrall recounted the conspiracy, risking interception and leak.
But Vol'jin had to do it; he had to make Thrall understand his contribution, otherwise all his efforts would be in vain and go unnoticed.
A few days later, Thrall received intelligence that Tide Lord Feralas, had gone mad.
Thrall was overjoyed, and as expected, he soon received a letter of surrender from Chief Sen'jin, indicating that the Darkspear Tribe was willing to submit to the Orcs.
Thrall was extremely cautious, Dreadlord a trap, and questioned Varimathras, the Dreadlord had been active in the Darkspear Horde and possessed firsthand intelligence.
Varimathras's reply was simply, "You're lucky."
Thrall finally breathed a sigh of relief, his mood as bright as the sunshine, and he grinned broadly as he looked at the fleet ahead.
Behind them was a large Orcs army conducting basic naval training. The young Orcs vomited incessantly as soon as they boarded the swaying ships, infuriating the Orcs officers who cursed loudly:
"A bunch of useless trash. They can't even handle a ship. Do you know how we fought back then? We fought the Alliance on the backs of dragons. Fools, the backs of dragons rock much more than ships. Stupid Red Dragons even try to somersault to dodge arrows."
Saurfang, panting, approached Thrall and grinned, asking, "Thrall, what are you thinking about?"
Thrall frowned slightly. He disliked Saurfang, but had to answer:
"I'm thinking about the battles to come. Echo Isles is just a small outpost; the continent across the sea is our true target. I want to exterminate all life on that continent, just like our predecessors did to the Draenei."
Saurfang gave a sinister smile, "The Night Elves across the sea are no match for the Draenei."
Thrall smiled with a hint of regret, "What a pity. Sen'jin, the chieftain of the Darkspear Trolls, is a coward. He dared not fight the Orcs and sent over a letter of surrender, unable to demonstrate the might of us Orcs to the Night Elves."
Saurfang narrowed his eyes. He knew Thrall's nature and asked with ill intent, "So Thrall, what friendly terms did you offer the Darkspear Tribe?"
"Half of the Darkspear Horde will serve as military rations," Thrall said coldly. "I think that's already extremely merciful."
"You're far too kind," Saurfang shook his head, saying with displeasure.
"To be honest, I'm somewhat disappointed. The Darkspear Tribe is a savage and ignorant race, like Ogres that can't be tamed. If you're kind to them, they'll turn around and bite you back. If it were me, I would exterminate the Darkspear Tribe. Only bloodshed can subdue a savage race. Azeroth is full of Trolls; they will be genuinely afraid and willingly risk their lives for us."
"Saurfang, that's the difference between you and me," Thrall said smugly. "I'll make things difficult for Chieftain Sen'jin, but I won't drive him to utter despair. I can change my mind anytime we land on Echo Isles."
"A cunning fellow." Saurfang and Thrall exchanged a knowing smile.
Thrall, a confident expression on his face, gazed across the ocean. "When we landed on Kalimdor, the first piece of land we saw was named after my father, and the first city we built was named after him."
Thrall's mind raced through a list of Orcs heroes: Blackhand Blackhand and Gul'dan were both infamous, Grom Hellscream was a coward, and in the end, there was only one choice. "Name it Orgrimmar."
Saurfang gazed silently at Thrall, knowing full well that Thrall would never miss an opportunity to increase his own glory.
Sure enough, Thrall, in high spirits, declared, "When our Orcs banners are planted in every corner of the continent, the name Kalimdor will become history. Thrall Continent will be its new name."
"Not bad, I wish us success in achieving this small goal soon." Saurfang's face twisted into a grimace as he gazed at the mighty Horde army behind him. "With our powerful Orcs Legions, what is there to fear in conquering Kalimdor?"
Thrall turned around, looking at Saurfang smugly. "I'm sorry, Saurfang, you're not on the list of those who conquered Kalimdor."
"What do you mean by this?" Saurfang roared, gripping his Battle Axe tightly. "If you want to exclude me, you'll have to ask these soldiers if they agree."
Saurfang, the King of Ambush, is after all a symbol of Orcs glory, a role model for countless Orcs, and enjoys immense popularity. Even Thrall could not shake his influence.
"No, no, these Orcs will still be led by you, continuing to serve as laborers for the Burning Legion." Thrall wore a smug look on his face. "The Burning Legion needs laborers, and I think you're perfect for it."
Saurfang was somewhat bewildered and asked curiously, "Thrall, do you intend to conquer Kalimdor alone? I deeply admire your courage."
"No, I have better soldiers."
Thrall clapped his hands, and a group of imposing Orcs emerged from a nearby tent.
These Orcs were tall, towering over the imposing Saurfang by half a head. Their bodies were covered in thick, dragon-like scales, their faces were even more ferocious, and their fangs were as sharp as a pair of daggers.
"Saurfang, would you like to experience the strength of Dragonblood Orcs?" Thrall waved his hand, and a Dragonblood Orcs came to stand in front of Thrall, looking down at him coldly, as if he were a chick.
What a terrifying monster this was! Saurfang was terrified and had to muster his courage to grab his Battle Axe.
Saurfang's figure suddenly blurred and disappeared from the spot, reappearing behind the Dragonblood Orcs, raising his Battle Axe high to strike his back.
The Dragonblood Orcs neither dodged nor evaded; its giant axe struck the scales on its back, sending sparks flying and leaving a white mark.
Saurfang was stunned. The Orcs turned around and knocked Saurfang to the ground with a single punch. Saurfang felt as if he had been crushed by a giant beast, his whole body aching and unable to move.
"How is it, honor of the Orcs, Saurfang?" Thrall looked at the heavily wounded Saurfang and sneered, "Before the mighty Dragonblood Orcs, you are nothing but a useless coward. The leader of the peons is very suitable for you."