Kobold Bloodbath

However, Shawn said he couldn't understand a word.

Few kobolds understood Common, and these three lowly kobolds certainly weren't among them.

Kobolds were a civilized race that had entered a primitive society, with a language of their own. It was simple, suited to their simple minds. With their small brains and limited knowledge, they could hardly grasp a language as profound and complex as Common.

Only the wisest among them, the Shaman Witch Doctors, knew a little.

Shawn didn't understand kobold.

But he wasn't stupid.

Seeing what was happening, he understood that the so-called War Horn in his hand really worked.

"Then you three go back and bring me three mine carts full of ore!" Shawn ordered.

As soon as the words left his mouth, he wanted to slap himself.

How could three kobolds understand him?

But the next moment, Shawn froze.

For some reason, the three kobolds actually hurried back. One of them even chattered excitedly.

"!@￥@#...￥%*"

To be safe, Shawn climbed up a nearby tree.

He was grateful for its thick foliage, which completely hid him from view. Unless someone looked carefully, they wouldn't find him.

He had to admit, in their frenzied state, kobolds seemed to have boundless strength and stamina.

Fifteen minutes later, the three kobolds came charging toward Shawn, each pushing a mine cart piled high with ore. Behind them came a long line of kobolds, all pushing carts full of ore.

Shawn was dumbfounded.

It had never occurred to him that the three kobolds would bring so many others with them.

But the next moment, his face lit up with delight.

At least a dozen mine carts!

Although kobold carts were less than a third the size of human ones, a dozen of them still added up to quite a haul.

This was an unexpected windfall!

And from another perspective, this made Shawn realize just how precious the horn in his hand was. He was suddenly reluctant to use it again to bring himself more mine carts.

The best steel had to be used where it mattered most.

But this time, he had no choice. If the kobolds who hadn't been fooled saw his human appearance, they would surely rush over and tear him apart.

So Shawn blew the War Horn again and shouted:

"My kin! Drop your mine carts and run in the opposite direction! Head for the coastline! We're going to war! Our first target is those vile Murlocs! Kill the Murlocs! Kill the Murlocs! Unite Westfall!"

At the War Horn's urging, the kobolds cheered as one and charged toward the coastline.

That day, a great battle erupted;

That day, rivers of blood flowed;

That day, the kobolds of Jangolode Mine fell by a third;

That day, the Murlocs along the Gold Coast suffered the most terrifying sneak attack in history, losing more than half their number;

That day, battle cries shook the heavens, and the people of Westfall were gripped by panic and fear;

That day, the soldiers at Sentinel Hill assembled and went on the highest alert;

That day, the Defias Brotherhood convened an emergency meeting, with every leader in attendance;

That day, Shawn reaped a rich harvest.

Without a moment's hesitation, the instant the kobolds turned and charged toward the coastline, Shawn put away the Kobold War Horn, grabbed ore from the mine carts with both hands, and tossed it into the Spatial Pouch.

Once he'd thrown all the ore into the Spatial Pouch, Shawn tossed the mine carts in one by one.

Then he ran into a problem.

The Spatial Pouch was full!

With no other choice, Shawn converted the mine carts into Garrison Resources.

After converting four points of Garrison Resources, only three of the dozen or so mine carts remained. Shawn began to feel mentally exhausted. With no other option, he hitched all three carts to the Shredder, drove away, and returned to Saldean Farm.

He hid the three mine carts in the warehouse. Exhausted in both body and mind, Shawn collapsed onto the bed.

He hadn't slept that soundly in a long time. He even had a wonderful dream: he became a true Kobold Warlord, commanding an endless army of kobolds, overthrowing the rule of the Horde and the Alliance, wiping out the forces of Draenor and Argus, and launching an attack on the mighty Pantheon and the Burning Legion...

Then he woke up.

Still groggy, Shawn opened his eyes and saw a pair of concerned eyes.

He rubbed his eyes. It was Old Saldean.

Old Saldean was beaming with excitement, gesturing wildly as he spoke.

"Old Saldean, did you take the wrong medicine?" Shawn blurted out.

"Pah! You're the one who took the wrong medicine! Get up, get up! Come with me to meet Commander Gryan Stoutmantle! He's a great man, a legend of Westfall! Back when the Defias Brotherhood was burning and looting everywhere, if Commander Gryan Stoutmantle hadn't stepped up and formed the People's Militia at Sentinel Hill to keep Westfall safe, our farms wouldn't have enjoyed such peace!"

Old Saldean's face filled with admiration at the mention of "Gryan Stoutmantle."

Gryan Stoutmantle?

Who was that supposed to be?

Wait...

The People's Militia?

Gryan Stoutmantle?

So it was him!

Memories of Gryan Stoutmantle slowly surfaced in Shawn's mind.

Beside him, Old Saldean kept rattling on.

The two accounts came together, and a complete picture of the man emerged in Shawn's mind.

Gryan Stoutmantle was a veteran Paladin and a member of the Order of the Silver Hand. He had earned great distinction in the campaign against the Scourge of Lordaeron.

By then, Gryan Stoutmantle was already quite old. Worn out by the fighting, he returned to his hometown of Moonbrook in Westfall, intending to spend his remaining years in peace.

He told no one of his past glories and honors. He only wanted to live out the rest of his hard-won life in quiet.

Meanwhile, the Defias Brotherhood was already running rampant in Westfall. Allied with goblins, gnolls, and kobolds, they robbed merchants on the roads, illegally mined the kingdom's gold, seized farms, and even occupied Moonbrook, Westfall's trade center, after the Stormwind garrison withdrew.

Moonbrook, as it happened, was Gryan Stoutmantle's hometown.

Old Gryan had already resolved to leave war behind. Besides, he was alone and couldn't stop the Defias Brotherhood by himself, so he remained silent. More importantly, he still hoped that Stormwind's nobles would send an elite force to wipe out the Defias Brotherhood and restore peace to Westfall.

After all, just a few days' journey from Moonbrook, in Elwynn Forest, stood Westbrook Garrison. It housed an elite Stormwind force and a large number of mechanical weapons made by Dwarves. Using them against the Defias Brotherhood would have been no difficult task.

At the end of the day, the Defias Brotherhood was still just a band of homeless Stonemasons.

But reality left Old Gryan disappointed.