As the conflict between Blackhand and Durotan came to an end, Hexia rose to his feet on Spineback Mountain. "Orders: have the rocket unit immediately launch two Victory rockets, one southwest of the Orc Horde and one northwest, as a deterrent."
"Yes, Legion Commander!" A nearby Holy Light cleric immediately saluted, then began relaying the orders to the rocket unit.
"Satellite positioning confirmed. This is the rocket unit. Preparing to launch!"
"5! 4! 3! 2! 1! Launch!"
Before Lothar's eyes, far behind the Stronghold, the hydraulic mechanisms at the rear of two strange, boxlike machines with four wheels rose, slowly lifting two pillar-shaped weapons with sharply pointed tips into an upright position.
As the countdown ended, fierce jets of flame erupted from their bases. The long, pillar-shaped weapons instantly shot upward, streaking into the sky like rising meteors.
Lothar swallowed involuntarily. He had no idea what these weapons were, but the solemn expressions on the Holy Light clerics' faces made it clear that their power was anything but minor.
While Lothar waited with wide eyes, Durotan stood in the Orc Horde's camp, looking down at Blackhand's lifeless body. He raised both hands and clenched his fists, his muscles swelling as he roared furiously at the assembled Orcs, proclaiming his strength and victory.
The Orcs roared enthusiastically at the rise of their new leader. Nearby, Durotan's wife, Draka, wept with joy as she hurried over to help her wounded husband up from where he knelt.
Just as the two rose, they suddenly spotted two meteors streaking across the sky. Every Orc saw them now, for the meteors were drawing ever closer to the Horde's camp.
Their natural, wild instincts told every Orc that a suffocating wave of destruction was coming. None fled. Their bodies trembled so violently that they could not