Southshore was one of the major human population centers in the Hillsbrad Foothills. In this era, when Dalaran still stood, it had to settle for being merely one of them.
A coastal town with a harbor, Southshore was one of the few ports that traded with the maritime power of Kul Tiras. It had thrived, its people living peaceful, contented lives. But that was in the past. Now, a tense, grim atmosphere hung over the town.
Just the day before yesterday, a Sorcerer had arrived from Dalaran. Yes, a Sorcerer. To the people of Southshore, Dalaran's Sorcerers were symbols of disaster. That city had been destroyed more times than anyone could count, and every time it fell, Southshore's people trembled in fear. The two places were simply too close together.
And this Sorcerer from Dalaran had brought bad news as well. His announcement had thrown all of Southshore into turmoil: a vast army of those damned green-skinned orcs was marching toward the town. In just three days, they would come charging into Southshore, sharp weapons in hand, howling at the top of their lungs.
And so panic erupted.
Over the past two days, Southshore's harbor had been busier than ever, operating around the clock. The moment word came that the orcs were approaching, the wealthy had fled without a trace.
Southshore lay deep within human territory. Since the outbreak of the First War, friction between the human kingdoms had all but ceased. The town had only a small guard unit, dispatched there after victory in the Second War. Such units varied in strength, ranging from three hundred to five hundred men.
This unit, named the Southshore Guard, had only three hundred men and was the town's sole military force. Having fought in the Second War, they could be considered elite soldiers. Unfortunately, there were far too few of them to make the people feel safe. Once word spread that more than ten thousand orcs were coming, the harbor never had an idle moment again.
Southshore Mayor had hastily recruited many eager, able-bodied young men and organized them into an army, bringing their numbers up to a thousand. Yet he still wore a worried frown, without a trace of joy. Martial spirit ran strong in Azeroth, and even ordinary people had the passion to defend their homes. Whether they felt the same about defending their country was another matter.
Watching the bustling harbor, Southshore Mayor came to hate those wealthy men. Every one of their guards was well equipped, carrying dwarf-forged weapons and wearing armor of the same quality. A single set cost enough to support an ordinary household for years. Together, they could have assembled a considerable force. Unfortunately, when they heard the orcs were coming, resistance had never even crossed their minds. Their first response had been to move all their assets and flee this doomed town.
Southshore had a sizable population, and evacuating everyone through the harbor was unrealistic. So far, only the wealthy had escaped safely. Beyond them, Southshore Mayor had managed to evacuate just a group of women and children.
"Old John's men have returned. The news they brought back isn't good. In fact, it couldn't be worse." A sturdy man with silver at his temples arrived at the harbor, his expression bitter. He strode over to Southshore Mayor and slowly began to speak.
"Damned orcs. I said back then that we should have killed every last one of them. Leaving them alive was bound to cause trouble sooner or later," Southshore Mayor cursed under his breath. "Tell me. What's the bad news?"
"There are more than ten thousand coming."
"How could there be so many? Has Durnholde fallen too?" Southshore Mayor was aghast, shock spreading across his face. He had fought with distinction in the Second War. Hearing that there were so many orcs, he naturally suspected that Durnholde Keep, not far from Southshore, had fallen. The fall of the Lordaemir Internment Camp was one thing. It was merely a camp established by Dalaran's Sorcerers to study the changes behind the orcs' growing weakness, and it held relatively few prisoners. Its fall had caused such an uproar not because it was important, but because it was so close to Dalaran, yet Dalaran had noticed nothing beforehand.
Durnholde Keep was different. It held a great many orcs and ranked among the internment camps with the largest orc populations.
The orcs inside numbered in the tens of thousands. If it fell, the consequences would be catastrophic. The orcs might sweep across the land once again and trigger a Third War. That was by no means impossible.
"Durnholde Keep is safe. Since news of the orc uprising broke, they've reinforced the garrison there. There are only around ten thousand orcs."
"That Sorcerer from Dalaran only told us half the story. Besides the ten thousand orcs, there are large numbers of kobolds, gnolls, and ogres, along with a few trolls. It's a whole jumble of races."
"How many are there altogether?" Southshore Mayor asked.
"About twenty thousand."
"Where's the Dalaran Sorcerer? Why haven't the reinforcements he promised arrived yet?" The mayor's expression grew bitter. Ten thousand orcs were already more than Southshore could withstand, let alone gnolls, ogres, and the other races. None of them would be easy opponents.
They were all synonymous with savagery, and any race called savage was formidable in battle. In a one-on-one fight, an adult human man held no advantage. If anything, he was at a disadvantage, because these savage races constantly fought and killed for food. Having witnessed the ferocity of trolls and ogres during the Second War, Southshore Mayor had little confidence in their defense.
"When the next ships arrive, you and young John should leave. I'll be enough here," Southshore Mayor told the man beside him as he walked off to find the Dalaran Sorcerer.
"You're the one who should leave. As Southshore Guard Captain, it's my duty to protect this town." The man shook his head, clapped Southshore Mayor on the shoulder, and continued, "I have no one left now. My wife and son both died at the hands of those damned orcs. This is the perfect chance to settle things once and for all. You're different. You still have John to look after."
"Reinforcements are here!" A sudden shout in the distance interrupted their conversation.
"Lordaeron has sent reinforcements! I heard Uther's Silver Hand was in the Alterac Mountains. Perhaps he's the one coming this time. As long as the Order of the Silver Hand arrives, we have nothing to fear from these orcs." Joy lit up Southshore Mayor's face.
"It can't be Uther. He's responsible for suppressing the orc uprising this time. The one coming to help may be Prince Arthas."
(End of chapter)