Marcorrock choked for a moment.
Just as he was about to say something, Shandris said loudly, "You want Feralas? Sure, send a declaration of war to the Alliance, then attack. If you win, Feralas will belong to the Horde. "
Marcorrock was different from his boss. His IQ was as high as 50.
He was extremely loyal and did not lack brains.
The combat power of the two sides was not on the same level. Rashly starting a war with the Alliance was definitely not a decision he could make. And whether it was him or the other warlords, they all immediately noticed the change in the Alliance's attitude.
In the past, the Alliance was relatively restrained towards the Horde. Even the Night Elves, who had wars and grudges with the Horde, did not attack immediately after their favorite forest was cut down. Instead, they scolded loudly.
Often, before it reached the diplomatic level, the conflict would end with the Night Elves backing down.
But now, the Alliance felt a little overbearing?
Marcorrock caught a glimpse of a large white wolf sunbathing on top of a tower in the fortress.
"Hmm?" He immediately realized who it was.
The Demigod of the Wilderness — the Wolf God called Gorosh by the Orcs! Now he was a member of the Guardians of Hyjal.
"Tch!" Marcorrock spat fiercely. The lack of high-end combat power had always been the Horde's pain. With Gruul, there was no Demigod they could send out.
He changed his words and said, "We're here to kill the traitor Tauren Bain Bloodhoof and his supporters. Do you know where they went? "
"Tauren? Yes, they're cutting wood and building ships near the Forgotten Coast. They've already gone out to sea. "
"Wait! Why would the Night Elves allow them to cut wood! And forbid the Horde from cutting wood!? "Marcorrock was a little angry.
Shandris Feathermoon didn't hide her mockery at all. "It's very simple! Because those Tauren believe in the way of nature just like us. After their Shamans cut down the trees, they immediately let them plant seeds and use Shaman magic to grow them. By next year, it will be a beautiful forest again. As for you guys? You guys who only know how to destroy without any construction, just get lost! "
Marcorrock almost spat out a mouthful of blood.
He was right. The Alliance protected Bain and the others. They just didn't openly protect them. They gave them a clear path and let them run to Sador Island on their own to recuperate.
It used to be a place where the elements wreaked havoc. In the past thousand years, the Night Elves had built the Feathermoon Fortress in order to excavate the ruins of the High Elves.
But now, there were no more angry elements there, and the entire island was under the influence of Vashj's Naga. The Alliance had already secretly begun rebuilding the ruins of the Feathermoon Stronghold, and there was a team of Hippogryphs stationed there.
There were Nagas in the sea, battleships and Hippogryphs in the sky. Bain and the others were very safe.
It was September of the 27th year of the Dark Portal, and Duque had just left the public eye. Brainless Roar had originally wanted to jump out and start an all-out war with the Alliance, but all of his subordinates and adjutants were against it, so he could only give up.
In the end, Marcoroc could only lead his army back after building a few strongholds in Feralas.
In the second half of 27 years, the tribe never stopped expanding.
In October, the Desolate Lands were recovered.
In November, the remnants of the Wild Boars in the Razor Highlands and Razor Swamp were completely wiped out, and the tribe's first fleet began to be formed in the original Thousand Needles Forest (flooded by the sea after the Great Cataclysm).
In December, the elites led by Gruul and his Gollon Army gathered in the north of the Desolate Lands, and the 200,000 troops of the tribe were hoarded on the east side of the Stonetalon Mountain. Seeing that the situation was not right, the Prince of Trade of the Rusty Water Conglomerate, Galivix, quickly threw away his moral integrity and personally ran to Orgrimmar to apologize.
The Goblins of the Rusty Water Conglomerate rejoined the tribe.
In view of this, the Darkspear Trolls on the Echo Islands were sitting on pins and needles. Wo Jin knew that if he did not make a decision, the next target of Garrus's reckoning would be the Darkspear Trolls.
After all, the Echo Islands were on the edge of the Durotar Sea. Garrus would never allow a nail to dangle at the edge of his heart.
Receiving the news of the tribe's formation of a fleet, Wo Jin decisively secretly contacted the Alliance and expressed his desire to join the Alliance.
Varian did not agree. In the absence of Duque and Sylvanas, the thousands of years of conflict between the Blood Elves and the Trolls was not so easy to resolve. Moreover, Duque had already made a plan for this.
The final decision was that the Alliance could send ships to pick up the Darkspear Trolls, and open up the southernmost Stranglethorn Vale, Hagero Island, allowing the Darkspear Trolls to live autonomously on the island.
Wo Jin sighed. He agreed.
Almost as soon as the Darkspear Trolls withdrew, the Brainless Roaring Orcs killed their way to the Echo Islands.
At this point, except for the New Undercity Tribe in Winterspring, there was no other way. Garrus once again completed the "unification" of the tribe, connecting the tribal territories into one.
"The greatest leader in the history of the tribe!"
"The strongest Great Chieftain!"
"Long live Garrus!"
Every victory, there was always no shortage of advocates.
Garrus became a little complacent in the midst of countless praises and praises.
If he was a politician who mingled among the humans, he would know that there was a word called "kill by flattery." The Orcs who flattered him were sincere. This kind of invisible and unintentional flattery was even more hurtful.
Fortunately, he still had a last trace of sanity and knew not to go to war with the Alliance.
Due to the fact that the Alliance in this life was far stronger than the original history, Garrus's situation became a little strange. He could be described in one sentence: an expert in civil wars, an amateur in foreign wars.
However, recently, he gave a series of unreasonable orders to his bitter little brother, the Prince of Goblin Trade, Galivix. "Are you still a goblin who boasts of advanced technology? The ninth-rate gnomes of the Alliance are smarter than you. I'll give you one year. In any case, whatever the Alliance has, the Tribe must have. "
Galivix was actually quite rich recently. After the Cataclysm awakened the volcano on his home island, the King of Trade realized that he could use his ship to move the panicking refugees to a safe area, take away their life savings, and sell them as slaves. This way, he could make a fortune.
This was originally a clever plan in history. In the end, the ship was blown to pieces in the crossfire between the Tribe's ship and the Alliance's fleet. The goblin survivors swam to the Lost Islands far from the coast of Kalimdor and caused a series of events.
In this life, because the Tribe and the Alliance didn't fight each other after the Cataclysm, Galivix succeeded and made a huge fortune.
The Prince of Trade, whose life was in Garrus's hands, went to work indignantly. He made a huge promise in the black market – anyone who could steal the technology from the Alliance would be rewarded with a sky-high reward.
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