The lands around Orgrimmar never seemed to get more temperate than a bit of humidity if you were lucky, but Orros could have sworn he felt a drop of at least a few degrees at the mere mention of that much-maligned land and the oft-cursed cancer that had rooted himself into it. Perhaps it was nothing more than the chill that ran up his spine despite all his best efforts.
"If Akros has held, then it has far more to be proud of than many other nations I could name," he grunted, though he tactfully chose not to name any of them. "I was given permission by my chieftain, Mayla Highmountain, to travel the world and see what the Horde had to teach me, if anything, and what I could give the Horde in return." He let out a bark of laughter, a sound that, from his rumbling bass, was an explosion of guttural mirth. "And to see if I can give the Scourge more than a bloody nose while I'm at it!" He sobered a bit after that, however, mulling over something she'd said. "Sounds like we at least share something of a common cause in that," the tauren said after a moment. "During my journey to the mainland, I shared space with one of the Forsaken- a very surly fellow, even for one of them. Spent most of his time squatting in the corner, hating all and being hated by all. He shared a rumor with me from his
home, however." Orros tapped his head. "Far in the east- the place the humans call the Plaguelands- the Banshee Queen's spies tell her that the Lich King is stirring from his long sleep; one of his necropolises is on the move." He shook his head. "I have no idea what could possibly interest his black heart all the way out there, and if anyone does
know, they certainly didn't deign to share it with whoever gabbed to my choleric undead friend."
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