"It's the Warsong Clan from the Tribe. They're not just good at fighting, they're quite good at it. What we need to pay attention to is the roar of their chief, Grom Hell. He's a top-notch person, especially you, Commander-in-Chief Lothar. I don't want the Commander-in-Chief of the Alliance to be at the front … I know you're good at fighting too, but there are so many generals around. As the Commander-in-Chief, do you have the cheek to steal the credit of your subordinates? "
Initially, when he heard Duque say that Grom was impressive, Lothar was really eager to give it a try. After hearing what Duque said, Lothar could only raise his hands to indicate that he wouldn't go to the front line.
There was a silent commotion among the other generals when Lothar didn't take action. Pairs of burning eyes looked at Duque, eager for Duque to call out the name of a certain person or a certain legion.
The current situation was like a predetermined victory. The only difference was whether the price paid was high. However, it seemed like it would be a great victory for now.
Everyone yearned for victory. The kings, who had different thoughts in the first place, were even more eager for their legions to perform well in this battle, because it would affect their country's right to speak in the Alliance.
Trash had no rights.
That wasn't just a matter of words.
More and more transport ships arrived at the seaside. There were so many ships from the Tribe that the long coastline was actually not enough for all of them.
The brave warriors of the Warsong Clan pushed the frontline to the middle of the mountain. They endured the fist-sized rocks that filled the sky and the arrows that could easily penetrate their bodies. When one fell, another would immediately take his place. When a group fell, a new group would immediately rush in. They were using their flesh and blood to corrode the human's defense line at a high speed.
The agile movements of the Warsong Clan warriors, their exaggerated jumping ability, and their violent strength made the soldiers of the Rotterdam very uncomfortable.
In just 10 minutes, Mograine had already sent out the reserve team for the third time. Even though he still had sufficient reserves, the sight of such a meat-grinder made his heart bleed.
They were all the elites of the Rotterdam Kingdom!
At this moment, two red signal flares rose in the direction of the headquarters. In this world where the light of dawn was still very faint, it was especially dazzling.
In the east, the Fourth Fleet, which had been waiting for a long time, puffed up their sails and arrived at the battlefield within fifteen minutes. Then, far from the coast, they fired their cannons at the densely packed coastline.
From today onwards, this cruel weapon would probably become one of the most hated weapons in the tribe.
A hundred thumb-sized, relatively round iron lumps could be stuffed into a huge cannon chamber. Because of the short range, Commander Ku Tiras ordered that each cannon be loaded with twenty percent less gunpowder and thirty percent more grapeshot than usual.
"Bang! Bang! Bang! " Following the loud roar, the coastline that was not particularly wide was immediately set off in a storm of blood.
The new armor that the Orcs had obtained from the Dwarven slaves was completely unable to withstand the impact of such hot weapons. A head-sized bloody hole would immediately appear on their bodies if they were hit by it. Even the lightest injury would be a broken arm or leg.
Large pieces of broken limbs flew into the air. There were split heads, splattered intestines, and broken weapons. In a few breaths, the entire coastline had become the Orcs' Shuraba. The seawater that surged up along with the tide was all dyed red with the blood of the Orcs.
The tragic scarlet spread hundreds of meters away on the surface of the sea, and it was all Orc blood.
The tribe's commander ordered the transport ship to rush towards Ku Tiras's battleship. Unfortunately, it did not work this time.
An Orc laborer who was rowing the boat could not help but exclaim, "There's something down there, there's a lot of it!"
The laborer pointed at the large opening for the oars. As soon as he finished speaking, he was dragged underwater along with the oars. Blood gushed out, and it seemed that he would not survive.
At this time, there were already quite a number of slightly fat black figures on the surface of the sea. Colorful triangular dorsal fins broke through the water surface, forming white waves.
Those who were familiar with them would know at a glance that they were Murlocs.
It was not the first time that the tribe had dealt with the Murlocs. They also knew that the humans of Stormwind City had the ability to tame the Murlocs, although they did not know which one. It felt as normal as an orc taming a warg.
That alone was not enough to alert the tribe.
Until the tribe suddenly realized that the number of Murlocs was too f * cking ridiculous.
It was impossible to count how many there were. All they knew was that this was definitely more than ten thousand.
Not only the Orcs, but even the human guards on the hill were stunned.
At first, Duque did not send out the Murlocs because Duque felt that it would not be effective to let the Murlocs intercept the transport ships rushing towards the coast at high speed.
Now it was different. Most of the gaps along the coast had been filled. If the tribe wanted to reach the shore, they would either have to smash the butt of their own ship and disembark in deeper water. Or they would continue west to find a place to dock.
In fact, continuing west was the right choice. But the appearance of Ku Tiras's fleet dispelled the tribe's commanders' thoughts. What was worse was that the transport ships that attempted to attack the Alliance's fleet had all stopped.
If the tribe's ships were powered by sails, the Murlocs would not be able to cut off the ship's power. But it was oars. For the Murlocs to deal with wooden oars that were not specially reinforced was a matter of minutes.
Under the command of the Murloc Oracle Mogor, the Murlocs also became smarter. They worked hard to destroy every Horde transport ship. They used all kinds of methods to break the oars of the laborers and dig into the bottom of the Horde transport ships.
Like sardines, the transport ships were packed with hundreds of people. Even if one of them sank, it would be a big loss to the tribe.
Looking at the situation of the battle, the five kings in the command center were all beaming with joy.
"Yo, Horde, hurry up and play your cards. I don't know who the commander is, but if you don't play your cards, I'll have to take the lives of another hundred thousand Orcs this time. "
At this moment, a loud noise suddenly erupted from one of the large battleships in Ku Tiras's fleet. In the next second, the huge mast broke, pulling the entire ship and causing it to tilt at an angle of 60 degrees to the water.
If the first attack could be reluctantly attributed to an accident, then the second attack was witnessed by Duque with his own eyes.
On the left side of the battleship's bow, a huge crack about half a meter wide and at least seven or eight meters long was drawn out by a black shadow's weapon like it was killing a fish.
The entire hull of the battleship let out a sad cry, then the huge bow suddenly broke, the hull tilted, and a large amount of seawater poured into the cabin.
Duque could clearly see that many human soldiers had already jumped into the sea to escape.
Damn! Who was it? That didn't make sense!?
Duque screamed in his heart. The next moment, he saw the killer's weapon. It was a dark red axe that looked like a hook. That was a certain Roar's signature weapon — [Bloodhowl]!
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