"We're going on an expedition," Blackham shouted. "I told you to bring supplies. I hope you all heard. Warriors, get your weapons ready, your armor ready. Healers, put your ointments, potions, and bandages in place. Before we march to war, we want to march to glory. ”

He lifted his hand and pointed into the distance, where the gloomy mountains pointed to the sky, occasionally emitting black smoke.

"That was our first stop. We will stand on the hill ... What is about to happen there will be passed down for millennia, a new era will be ushered in, and orcs will come to know a power we have never tried before. ”

He paused and waited for the words to be heard, then nodded, obviously proud, whispering in the crowd.

Durotan was nervous. That... It's today...

No one said anything more. Blackham ended the rallying speech, "Let's go!"

The whole tribe marched with eagerness, curiosity, and the excitement that Blackhan had stirred. Durotan gave Drakar a quick look, and she just nodded her support for his plan. Then he forced himself to keep up with the tide of the tribe with a heavy pace.

There is a narrow and steep path on the smoking hill that leads to a vast plateau. To Durotan's view, it was like cutting a piece of the mountain with a knife, so unnaturally perfect. The thought sent him a creep. Nothing that has happened recently seems natural. Three huge 4%, ww≤w. black polished stones are lined up and embedded in the earth. The stone looks beautiful and ominous. The orcs were tired from climbing the mountain in the sun for so long in full armor and with weapons and supplies. Durotan was strange about this. It seems that there is little point in consuming the bodies of the soldiers before the war. Maybe the battle will be a little later. They attacked the next day after they had rested.

To Durotan's amazement. When each orc was in position and quiet, it was not Blackhan who guided them, but Gul'dan.

"Not so long ago," said Gul'dan, "we were a loose people. We only meet twice a year, and it's just singing, dancing, drumming, and hunting. His voice was full of contempt. Durotan looked at the ground. For hundreds of years, various clans have come together on the occasion of Koshhag. It's not something stupid, not as Gul'dan's tone suggests. It was a sacred and powerful thing that had long avoided clan strife. The reaction of the orcs around him made him think that this was a matter of his previous life. They, likewise, grunted with displeasure, wielding their weapons roughly, seemed to be disdainful of their former stupidity. Even those orcs who used to be shamans were like this.

"Look at us now! We stand shoulder to shoulder, clan by clan. Next to the Skull Clan is the Dragonthroat Clan, and next to the Thunder King Clan is the Warsong Clan, all under Blackhan's strong, wise leadership. You elected him to unify you, and greet Blackhan!"

There was a cheer, but Durotan and Draka did not participate.

"Under his wise guidance. And with the blessing of our allies, we have become strong. We are proud of it. In the last two years, we have advanced in skills and technology more than in the last two centuries. The threat looming over us was broken. And now it only takes one final blow to ruin it forever. But first... First, we are to give ourselves to it in exchange for blessings. ”

He stooped down and picked up a strange goblet that looked carved from the horns of some animal, and Durotan had never seen a split-hoof ox grow such large horns. It was also brownish-yellow curved, with bizarre engravings that seemed to glow faintly as night fell. The contents of the cup also shimmered. Gul'dan held the cup in front of him, and the eerie yellow-green light shone on his face from below to the top, casting a strange shadow.

"This cup is unity," Gul'dan said in a pious voice, "and this cup is rebirth." I ask the leaders of each clan to drink this cup, and then they will ask everyone in the clan who wishes to be blessed to drink. Who wants to come and show his loyalty and accept this blessing?"

Gul'dan leaned slightly to the right, toward Blackhan. Blackham grinned and opened his mouth to speak, when a savage, familiar voice rang out in the night sky.

No, Durotan thought. No... Don't be him...

Drakar's hand squeezed Durotan's arm tightly. "Are you going to warn him?"

Durontan's throat moved, he couldn't speak. He shook his head: No. Once, he had taken this thin but mighty orc, the orc who was striding forward, as a friend. But he couldn't take the risk of letting people know that he had a clear understanding of what was happening in front of him.

Not even for the sake of Grom Hell Roar.

The chieftain of the Warsong Clan squeezed forward from the crowd and stood in front of Gul'dan. Blackhan watched Hell roar with a little embarrassment. It is clear that both Gul'dan and Blackham are planning to have the Great Chief drink first.

Gul'dan smiled suddenly. "You're the only one who has seized this opportunity, dear Grom. He said, bowing slightly, and handed Grom the cup of tumbling green liquid. Heat and glow poured out of the cup, making Grom's face, already painted with oil paint to scare enemies and encourage allies, look even more terrifying.

Grom didn't hesitate. He brought the cup to his lips and took a deep sip. Durotan watched, ready to see how he reacted next. Perhaps, the people who thought about him did not send the letter in the end. Maybe it's just a trap

Gul'dan barely caught time to retrieve the cup before Grom became stiff and began to tremble. Grom bent down, whispering in the crowd, full of worry. Durotan watched in horror as Grom's leaning body trembled. Right before his eyes, Grom's shoulders, which were relatively thin for orcs, widened. His armor creaked with the strength of his body. Slowly, Grom stood up straight, taller than before, reshaped strong and powerful by the green liquid, and he glanced at the crowd.

Durotan saw from his face that it was even and healthy, and that it was completely green except for the tattooed chin.

Grom threw his head up and let out a loud shout. It was louder than Durotan had ever heard before. And it's like the sound of a knife cutting through the body. Durotan covered his ears, as everyone else did, but he couldn't take his eyes off Grom's face.

Grom's eyes now glowed red.

"How do you feel. Grimm Hellroar of the Warsong Clan?" Gul'dan asked in a surprisingly gentle voice.

Grom's expression of ecstasy looked so intense. It's almost like a pain. He seems to be organizing rhetoric. "I feel... Unusually strong! I feel—" He paused and let out a third roar, as if in the most primitive of roars. "I'm going to tear Draenei's flesh! Draenei's blood is spilled on my face... I'll drink it until I can't drink it anymore! Give me their blood!"

His ribcage slumped with his passion, and his fists opened and closed. He looks ready to attack the whole city with his ** hands... And Durotan felt he would win that battle. Hell Roar walks back to his clan.

"The sound of the war song! come, none of you will refuse this ecstasy!"

The warriors of the Warsong Clan swarmed forward, eager to feel what their chieftain felt. The cups were passed and they drank one by one. Each trembled for a moment with deep pain, and then each appeared excited and noticeably stronger after the pain. Everyone's eyes glowed red. Blackhan's brow furrowed even tighter as he looked at this. When the last Warsong orc finished drinking, he made a rumbling sound. "I'll drink!" He demanded. Grabbing the cup, he took a deep sip. Blackhan clutched his throat tightly, and he didn't make a sound as the dark magic in the cup performed his terrible duty. He took off his armor, and it was obvious that the muscles were heaving and growing beneath his taut green skin. Finally he looked up, his red eyes shining. He walked over to his two sons, and Maim and Red pushed the other orcs away as well. Durotan saw Griezelda, Blackhan's only daughter, and hesitated before walking forward. Blackhan looked at her mockingly.

"Don't come," he snapped. Griezelda retreated in fright. Durotan had always liked the little girl, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Blackham wanted to humiliate her, but in fact he inadvertently gave her a big gift. Blackham walks over to Orgrim.

"Come on. Friend, Ogrim, come and drink with me!"

Even now. Even when his best friend was called to drink the dark liquid, Durotan couldn't speak. Thankfully, he didn't need to speak. Orgrim lowered his head.

"Chief. I will not take this glory from you. I'm your deputy, not the chief, and I don't have any intention of that position. ”

Durotan breathed a sigh of relief and lowered his head. Ogrim saw what Durotan saw, even though he didn't receive the message Durontan received. He is not a fool, he has a soul of his own, and he will not compromise with the power that afflicts his body and burns his eyes.

Now the chiefs of the other clans lined up, eager to receive the blessings that had so excited these two most well-known and respected chieftains. Durotan didn't move. Drektar leaned over and whispered, "Chief, don't you want a blessing?"

Durotan shook his head. "No, I won't let anyone in my clan drink either. ”

Drektar blinked, stunned. "But... Durotan, it's clear that this drink brings great power and passion! you're stupid not to drink it!"

Durotan shook his head, remembering the contents of the letter. He was skeptical at first, but now he was sure. "I'm stupid when I drink it," he said quickly, and when Drektar tried to retort, he quieted the former shaman with his eyes.

Suddenly, the words of the Draenei prophet Velonon came to Durotan's mind: We have chosen not to sell our people into slavery, and for this reason we have been forced into exile. Durotan knew from the bottom of his heart that once the orcs drank the contents of that cup, they were no longer theirs. Gul'dan is repeating the mistakes of the Draenei's leaders in their lost world. He sold his people into slavery, and history repeats itself. Now it is Durotan who rebels against his leader for the sake of his people. Or he and his clan, like the Delaney, will soon become "exiles". It doesn't matter, he did the right thing. He realized that all the chieftains of the clan had drunk except him, and the moment he feared was right before his eyes