The wind swept across the grasslands, while Outland's sky was forever a riot of strange and dazzling colors.
Dranosh traveled with two brown-skinned Orc companions, two Goblins, and a tamed dire wolf that he led as a pack beast. Two large backpacks hung from its back, filled with many small items from Azeroth and Theramore.
"Gordmanpu, check the map. How far are we from the southern outpost now?" Dranosh walked at the front, scanning the distance, wary of unseen enemies lying in ambush within the tall grass.
Gordmanpu the Goblin ran up with a sharp laugh, waving a map in his hand. In fluent Orcish, he said, "We're getting close. Look at these wheel ruts—they were left by our supply convoy."
Dranosh crouched down and pushed aside the weeds. Sure enough, there was a faint trail of wheel ruts. He rose and waved to the group behind him. "Move out. We need to reach the outpost before nightfall."
The southern outpost was garrisoned by a Regar militia squad. They rotated regularly. In Regar's Territory, there were no specialized professions a person worked at for life. Everyone shifted between being warriors and laborers.
A standard Regar squad generally consisted of four or five people. There was a captain, usually someone who knew a few spells; two javelin throwers, either Orc Peons or Troll Headhunters; and two melee axemen. However, they generally did not trade blows with axes. Instead, they joined two javelins together and used them as spearmen.
Such a squad could hold its ground in formation against an equal number of nomadic Orcs. Through its captain, it could also call for reinforcements. By attacking from range, it offset the mobility threat posed by Dire Wolf Knights.
When Dranosh arrived at the outpost, the garrison squad recognized him as one of