The Horde Fears Nothing

Seeing the Second Khan fly into a rage, the present-day Khans who had been arguing immediately fell silent, afraid that the Second Khan would take his anger out on them. After all, they could not provoke the esteemed Second Khan. Whether in authority or strength, he was far beyond their equal. Centaurs had no concept of rank or honor; this race of father-slayers feared only strength.

"Gelk, let me go tomorrow. Those damned green-skinned creatures cannot withstand the iron hooves of a First-generation Khan." The Fifth Khan, Weng, had the fiercest temper. His muscles had truly grown into his brain—well-developed limbs and a simple mind. That was why he could only remain the Fifth Khan; whether in strength or intellect, he was inferior to the other First-generation Khans. Yet his clan was undoubtedly the most vicious. The Galak Clan had even conquered the treacherous land of Thousand Needles. Of course, because they were too simple-minded, their entire clan was nearly wiped out during the Cataclysm. The great flood brought by Deathwing submerged Thousand Needles, and even now, one could still see the drowned corpses of centaurs in its waters.

"I agree as well. Gelk, leave it to Weng. If that Tauren High Chieftain Cairne appears, I'll make him understand the might of the centaurs." The Fourth Khan, Maradus, was delighted to see the Fifth Khan lead troops into a direct clash with the Horde. They were not as well-funded as the Second Khan. Even though the Durotar clans had suffered so many losses at the hands of the Horde, the Second Khan's position was still beyond their ability to shake. The gap between every rank was enormous, especially in the case of the Second Khan. He could be called the most ambitious of them all. While the First Khan, Kolk, had always remained stationed in Macedonia, the Second Khan continuously expanded his influence, annexing small clans and fighting for more territory and resources. As a result, Gelk's clan had even surpassed the First Khan Kolk's clan in numbers.

However, the Horde's surprise attack had shrunk his clan once again. Hundreds of thousands of centaurs took countless years to raise. But when the Second Khan Gelk thought of how destroying the Horde and the Tauren would not only elevate his status but also grant him such vast lands, he saw endless creatures waiting to be plundered. So long as the Night Elves left them alone, they would become the overlords of central Kalimdor.

"Then it's settled. Weng, Maradus, be careful. These green creatures seem to have many powerful warriors as well. Don't get yourselves killed. As for the other present-day Khans, make sure you protect the First-generation Khans. Understood?" No one cared more about the lives of the Fourth and Fifth Khans than the Second Khan, because without them, he would be unable to oppose the forces of the First Khan Kolk and the Third Khan Magra.

"By your command, honorable Khan Gelk. We will certainly protect Khan Maradus and Khan Weng." The three present-day Khans—Dapaz, Jehn, and Shaka—made their solemn pledge. In centaur society, where hierarchy was absolute, the five highest-ranking First-generation Khans could decide the life and death of any present-day Khan at will. Protecting the First-generation Khans was their duty. Otherwise, even in death, their souls would be cursed to return to Maraudon, where the First-generation Khans would devour them and torment them for eternity.

Thus, the two First-generation Khans, Maradus and Weng, began overseeing the battle alongside the three present-day Khans. With both present-day and First-generation Khans present, they jointly cast a spell using their primal bloodline as a catalyst, awakening the frenzied savagery buried within their descendants—a collective bloodthirsty madness. The blood of Maradus and Weng's descendants began to boil. Their bodies swelled, their eyes filled with bloodlust and killing intent. At that moment, the centaurs forgot everything except destroying the enemies before them.

The Horde had dug countless horse pits across the hillside and erected chevaux-de-frise and other defensive obstacles. But against the centaurs' frenzied bloodlust, they were utterly useless. The centaurs abandoned all fear of the dangers before them and charged straight at the Horde's position, wave after endless wave.

Using the bodies of their front-line warriors, the centaurs filled the horse pits and trampled the chevaux-de-frise flat. It was as though they had woven a massive carpet from centaur corpses and spread it across the hillside, providing an unobstructed path for those behind them.

Tens of thousands of centaurs destroyed the Horde's defensive installations completely with their bodies before they ever reached the Horde's battle line. At last, the centaurs charged recklessly toward the Horde warriors.

"Come on, hahahaha! You centaur scum! Let me show you the strength of the Horde! Lok'tar ogar!" The centaurs did not fear death, but when had the Horde's warriors ever feared it? What did Orc warriors seek their entire lives? To die gloriously on the battlefield, then return to the embrace of their ancestors' spirits. Death had never been something the Horde feared.

So what if their defenses and traps were gone? When had the Horde ever feared close combat? Today, they would show the centaurs why the Horde could stand shoulder to shoulder with the Alliance despite such an enormous difference in population.

Seeing the charging centaurs, the berserk Orc warriors boldly activated Charge and plunged directly into the enemy ranks. Charge, Execute, Whirlwind—each warrior cut down several centaurs alone. Heroic Leap, Earth Shock, Shockwave—they crashed straight into the enemy's midst, disrupting their charge and sowing chaos. Though each of them took down several times their own number of centaurs, the Orcs who launched the countercharge were almost certain to die. There were simply too many centaurs. Often, after killing only a few, countless more would surge in to take their place. Though they knew the danger, they would not fear or falter. They drank deep of blood, and even with their last shred of strength, they charged at the enemy. Nothing could frighten the Horde. Even against the Burning Legion, the Horde would boldly issue a challenge. There were no cowards among Orc warriors.

"Tauren warriors! How can we stand by and watch our Orc brothers fight alone? Show our Orc brothers why the Tauren are called the strongest on land!" Tauren Warlord Balasen Spirit Hoof was a powerful Tauren Sunwalker, a paladin who worshipped An'she, the sun.

"Strength and honor!" Balasen Spirit Hoof rushed into the centaurs, raised a strange weapon that looked both like a lamp and a hammer, and smashed it into several nearby centaurs. Holy Light gleamed across the weapon, inflicting grievous burning damage upon them.

"Blood and thunder!" One Tauren warrior after another rushed forward, turning their massive bodies into the sturdiest line of defense. Tauren Druids dropped to all fours and transformed into enormous bears, roaring from their gaping maws as they charged into the centaurs and sent countless enemies flying along the way. The Tauren Sunwalkers followed in the warriors' footsteps, wielding the power of An'she and using the flames of Holy Light to burn these filthy creatures.