"Who's there?!"
Just as everyone was celebrating, Rilas Windrunner's long elven ears twitched. He immediately drew his bow and cautiously looked toward the forest.
"We mean no harm, elf."
Standard Common Tongue rang out, followed by dozens of burly, green-skinned Orcs emerging from the woods. Their leader was an Orc clad in black armor, wielding a warhammer crackling with lightning.
The moment Rilas recognized the Orcs, he was about to attack. His mother, Lirath Windrunner, had died at the hands of Orcs. However, Tyrel stopped him. They were outnumbered.
Tyrel froze when he saw the Orc leader, then asked tentatively, "Is that you, Thrall?"
"It's me. You are... Tyrel Sunstrider?"
That was right. This Orc leader was Thrall, the Arena Champion Tyrel had encountered at Durnholde Castle. Unlike before, Thrall had become even stronger, radiating a far more imposing presence. He had clearly become the leader of the Orcs.
Thrall motioned for the Orcs around him to lower their weapons, then smiled and spoke with Tyrel. "So it's you, Tyrel. I still remember the food you gave me. It was delicious. I once wondered whether we might meet again, but I never expected it to be here."
"I didn't expect to run into you either, Thrall. Then it seems the Orcs in Stratholme were under your command. I have to admit, your command ability is exceptional." Tyrel praised him. He had previously wondered why the Orcs had attacked with such organization and discipline, without the slightest hesitation, then swiftly withdrawn after creating chaos.
Tyrel had been watching Thrall's eyes all along. They were still filled with wisdom, and Thrall occasionally looked at Eitrigg and Tirion with goodwill in his gaze.
From his eyes, Tyrel could tell that Thrall had not come with hostile intent, and he could not help relaxing.