A hazy night enveloped the land. Clear moonlight adorned both the sky and the earth, and the night sky resembled a boundless, transparent ocean, quiet, vast, and mysterious. Countless stars glittered like tiny sparks rippling through seawater, their little points of light dancing. Lordaemir Internment Camp lay in peaceful slumber beneath a veil of silver. The mountains loomed faintly, like clouds or islands at sea, with one or two crimson flames flickering now and then as though beckoning ships sailing through the night.
A group of over a hundred approached swiftly and silently from the distance. Their movements were light, their footsteps soundless. Despite the deep darkness, they moved as quickly as if it were daylight, without the slightest hesitation. They also knew the terrain of Lordaemir Internment Camp like the backs of their hands. They soon reached the camp, and all but one vanished into the darkness.
In the bright moonlight, the figure at the front revealed green skin and tusks protruding from the corners of his mouth. He was an orc, his savage expression like that of death itself. This was Scott, the orc Rex had encountered before, and the one who now hated Rex enough to grind his teeth.
He took a deep-purple orb from his clothes. It emitted a hazy violet glow that stood out starkly in the darkness, and the monster carved upon its surface seemed to come alive. Scott's green skin began to fade, and every sign of his orcish nature disappeared. By the time the last wisp of violet light dissipated, a burly, middle-aged human man with a full beard stood in his place.
"Chief Jubei'thos got his hands on a fine treasure this time," Scott muttered, looking at his arms and his completely transformed appearance. Then a sharp gleam flashed in his eyes. Chief Jubei'thos placed tremendous importance on this mission. He had even entrusted Scott with the Orb of Deception, which he had obtained from the goblins with great difficulty. Scott would allow nothing to go wrong.
He strode up to the gates of Lordaemir Internment Camp and knocked heavily.
"Is that you, my friend Scot?" A friendly greeting came from behind the gates.
"It's me," Scott called. Had Rex been there, he would certainly have mocked Scott's naming skills at the top of his voice. Simply shortening his own name by one letter was truly a pathetic effort.
"This is a difficult request, my friend Scot. Lordaemir Internment Camp doesn't open to outsiders in the middle of the night," a voice said from behind the gates.
"Another two hundred gold coins."
"All right. Since you're my friend, Scot, I'll make an exception this once. Visiting these damned orc slaves in the middle of the night does offer a different sort of view," came the voice from within.
With a creak, the gates of Lordaemir Internment Camp slowly opened. Several humans stood behind them. The man at the front looked at Scott with excitement and greed shining in his eyes. That was not the look of someone seeing a friend, but of someone seeing gold coins.
"Orc slaves." A sharp gleam flashed in Scott's eyes. As the gates slowly opened, he moved. In the blink of an eye, he rushed up to one of the humans. It was the Warrior skill, Charge. Boundless fury erupted within him, filling his rage to the limit. A sharp axe in his hand came crashing down, and the large head of the human who had just called him a friend parted from his body. Blood spurted from his neck and splashed all over Scott. The bright-red blood stirred Scott's savage nature, and a faint red glow flickered in his eyes.
Unleashing his full Ninth Rank strength, Scott found it all too easy to kill these soldiers corrupted by gold. In moments, before they could react or raise an alarm, they died horribly at his hands. Scott stood motionless with his great axe in hand. Only when the hundred-odd orcs had all caught up did he open his half-closed eyes again. The blood-red glow had faded.
Yet the savagery on his face remained, and his eyes were terrifyingly cold. That damned human brat actually beat me, Scott, with trickery. This time, after the great Chief Jubei'thos transformed me and gave me mastery over demonic power, I absolutely won't lose again. Once this is over, I'll go to Gilneas.
Leading his elite orcs, Scott swiftly charged into Lordaemir Internment Camp. The camp, which the Alliance had spent vast sums of gold to build, had its gates breached with such ease. Those heavy metal gates, specially forged by skilled dwarves at King Terenas's request to ensure the camp's security, served no purpose at all that day.
Having toured Lordaemir Internment Camp on his previous visit, Scott knew its layout well. He led the orcs straight to the guards' quarters along a familiar route. Against the camp's guards, Scott's orcs were wolves among sheep. How could a flock of weak, helpless sheep stop ravenous wolves? The outcome had been decided from the start. Had the orcs not gotten inside Lordaemir Internment Camp, its sturdy defenses would have allowed it to hold out for a while, even with such ineffectual guards.
That would have been enough time for Dalaran to send reinforcements, for Lordaemir Internment Camp was far too close to the city. Unfortunately, the world offered few such what-ifs. It was precisely because the camp was so close to Dalaran that Scott, a Ninth Rank fighter, had come to lead the attack personally.
With every guard slaughtered, Scott looked at the Warden, who kept begging for mercy, clinging desperately to his life. A rare kindly expression appeared on Scott's savage face. To the Warden, however, it looked even more terrifying and hideous, and he fainted outright from fear. The Warden had never fought in the Second War and owed his position entirely to his father's connections. He had never witnessed anything like this. It was a wonder he had not died of fright.
That alone showed just how savage Scott's appearance was. It struck terror into the heart and was impossible to forget after a single glance.
That day, a major event sent shock waves throughout the Eastern Kingdoms. Lordaemir Internment Camp, a stone's throw from Dalaran, fell to the orcs. Coming shortly after news of the Blackrock Clan's large-scale uprising, it made one thing clear to everyone: the orcs had once again unleashed turmoil. This unrest also marked their return to the stage of history.
(End of chapter)
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