The Rearguard

Under the gloomy sky, fear hung in the air. In the Alterac Mountains, Lordaeron's refugees huddled together inside a cave. Only this could temporarily suppress the fear in their hearts.

They hadn't been rescued by the Kingdom of Alterac. Perrnod had been utterly unable to stop the Scourge's spread. The entire Kingdom of Alterac had become history.

The Lordaeron refugees owed their lives to the towering green figure standing at the cave entrance. That's right: the one who had saved these several hundred people was an Orc.

At first, when the Orc had descended from the sky and helped the militiamen guarding the refugees wipe out the Ghouls, everyone had suspected he had ulterior motives. The people of Lordaeron still vividly remembered the slaughter and pillaging wrought by the Warsong Clan and the Shattered Hand Clan eight years ago. Some had lost entire villages of loved ones; others had seen their comrades killed by Orcs. In short, the people of Lordaeron didn't think much of Orcs. And yet they had no choice but to follow this Orc. It was fear, plain and simple. The Ghouls that had nearly overwhelmed the militiamen were dispatched with ease by the Orc, so the refugees had no choice but to follow him to this cave. Along the way, the adults had even clamped their hands over their children's mouths, afraid their crying would anger the Orc.

But it didn't take long for them to realize they had been wrong. Although the Orc looked fearsome, he was genuinely helping them: finding them shelter and leading the militiamen in clearing the surrounding area of the Undead Scourge. Little by little, they came to rely on him. Their feelings about Orcs had changed.

This Orc was none other than the Warsong Chieftain, Grommash Hellscream, who had once