The moments leading up to the war are always unpredictable, like sand in an hourglass losing its narrow bottleneck and vanishing in an instant.
Today, the southern coast is peaceful. The Human Alliance army has withdrawn from Southshore Town, relying on the hilly terrain to the north. Two thousand elite warriors from different kingdoms are defending the first line of defense.
Soon, Horde ships appeared on the calm sea. These ships looked rudimentary; the intricate steel pieces seemed glued together, making them look somewhat incongruous. But don't be fooled by appearances. The cannons on Grand Admiral Daelin's ships did not quickly penetrate the hulls of these green-skinned orcs.
The cannons roared, and Grand Admiral Daelin's royal flagship capsized dozens of orc ships in its first volley. Hundreds of orcs sank directly into the sea.
Although the Horde ships were rudimentary and clumsy in appearance, they were quite enormous. The orcs at the helm steered a portion of their ships directly towards Grand Admiral Daelin's fleet. They knew that without cannons, the only way to seize human ships was through ramming and force.
The naval battle was fierce, and using their numerical advantage, Grand Admiral Daelin's royal fleet was quickly brought under control. The remaining ships swiftly landed.
The green-skinned orcs, perhaps sensing the human presence in the air, noticed a light shining from the hills behind the human town. It was the sunlight reflecting off the armor of elite human warriors.
An orc warlord landed, standing out from the other orc soldiers who were only equipped with a layer of skin and iron. His massive axe and elaborate chainmail made him appear formidable.
This warlord's performance justified his armor. After landing, the warlord rapidly assembled his orc forces, preparing to attack the human defenses that seemed softer than mud.
Sir Lothar ordered all the defensive soldiers to shoulder their shields and don their steel helmets, preparing for the fierce battle to come.
"Warriors of the Human Alliance, I know you are the elite of your kingdoms. Now, our nation and our people need your strength! For the Alliance!"
"For the Alliance!" Two thousand soldiers simultaneously pounded their sharp longswords against their hard shields, the clanging of steel echoing throughout the Hillsbrad Foothills.
More and more orcs landed. Looking towards the coast outside Southshore, the green orcs resembled a ravaged anthill, densely packed and beginning to encroach upon human land to the north.
The elves' ambush positions were farther than Lothar's soldiers', but Leylin and Alleria still managed to spot the orc tribes landing on the shore using their abilities.
"Their numbers are greater than we imagined." Alleria said, stunned by the sight. The power these orcs displayed was unmatched by the Amani trolls hiding in the forests.
They seemed to possess strength unmatched by humans and elves, but that wasn't the key. These orcs exuded a sense of oppression; they seemed oblivious to death.
"These are the orcs. They left their destroyed homeland and came to our land in search of a new one." Leylin said.
Alleria seemed to understand the pain of losing their homeland. From the orcs' perspective, their actions were understandable. But unfortunately, you've invaded our homeland; we must win this battle.
"Was it that mage who told you?" Alleria asked.
"Sort of."
"The orcs have entered the area north of Southshore!" Alleria instinctively grabbed Leylin's gloved left hand. Her brow furrowed, her white teeth biting her lip.
Leylin closed his eyes for a moment, focusing his mind and reaching out with his magic. His senses extended beyond the battlefield, piercing through the chaos to scrutinize the orc army from a safe distance.
He activated [Far Sight], a spell that allowed him to see with clarity over great distances.
Through his enchanted vision, Leylin observed the orc horde: their formations, their command structure, and most importantly, their leader—an enormous, scarred orc chieftain rallying his troops with fierce roars.
He noted the number of soldiers, their weapons, and the strategic positions of their war camps. As he carefully analyzed the enemy's movements, Leylin's mind raced with possibilities.
The orcs appeared confident, but there were subtle signs of disorganization—some units seemed restless, ready to break formation if pressured.
The orcs began their charge, frantically rushing towards the human defenses.
Lothar stood on a flat stone slab atop a hill, raising his gleaming golden Great Royal Sword high. With a single swing, its brilliant light reflected off the sun, and the fully prepared Alliance elites, like a tidal wave, resisted the sturdy shields, charging into the orcish army.
The clash and collision of armies caused the earth to tremble. The deafening sounds of clashing steel and shouts brought the war to its most glorious moment.
All soldiers, including their leaders, charged into the battlefield. Lothar led the charge, followed closely by Turalyon and Uther.
Compared to the halos in Uther and Turalyon's hands, Sir Lothar's attacks were more direct. Each swing of his Great Royal Sword claimed the life of an orc.
Feeling the distant tremors of the earth, the ranger captain and mages on the elven front remained remarkably calm.
Suddenly, a purple magical missile exploded in the sky from the western front, signaled by arcane energy. Leylin, leading his elite rangers and warriors, charged out of the lines.
The orcs hadn't anticipated the strange race from the east; they had never seen such creatures before. Without warning, a sharp blade pierced through the orcish advance.
In the clash of steel and power, other colors quickly emerged.
"Tyr'ganal, control the magic output. Cover me!" Leylin shouted, entrusting his flank and energy to Tyr'ganal.
As a high-ranking mage and Leylin's partner, their coordination was seamless. An enormous flame erupted within the center of the battlefield.
Leylin, like a grim reaper, kept casting [Flamestrike] and [Arcane Missiles] plunged into the midst of these towering orcs, tearing at the orc soldiers with his destructive power. Fire and arcane energy surged in the battlefield, large explosions happened in their battlefront.
These towering orcs didn't fall to the elven rangers' arrows, but they couldn't withstand the overwhelming force that had suddenly appeared.
"Follow me, spread out, and disrupt the orcs' attack lines." Alleria quickly caught up with Leylin.
Her nimble body fired arrows from her golden longbow, each magical arrow imbued with a miniature magic circle piercing the bodies of at least two orcs.
Soon, the orc warlord realized that their initial victory had made them complacent. On this new continent, they encountered unprecedentedly strong resistance.
His intuition was correct; the defenses here were ten times stronger than he had imagined.
"Take this place! Orgrim will not give us a second chance to gain glory!" the orc warlord roared thunderously.