[ RP on ]
Do not judge the greatest of War Chiefs by the longings of filthy humans for weakness.
Vol'Jin's Horde was overall, peaceful and prosperous for the Horde. Our people were more or less safe except the Tauren down in Dustwallow, Thousand Needles and Southern Barrens.
Blackhand's Horde, those were the days werent they? Remember those invasions of demons two summers ago and the feeling of a dozen mates to the left, a dozen more to the right, a powerful dragon or hideous, glorious beast beneath you and a battle yell echoing across the lands? Our foes were puny in their steel shells, but no matter. We razed all before us and drank of life on the lamentations of their women. Now, saying such things is not looked well upon, with the demon blood drinking, but deep, deep down isn't that what an orc really wants? The life battle and victory in hot blood?
But that was for the young orcs we were, and now we are old and fetch crystals and wine for elves, train withered husks to fight and tell old stories of when life was better.
When Go'el brought us out of the internment camps and we felt alive again. When we stole ships and set sail for an unknown future. When we found these lands, barren as they are, and pounded our spikes into the lands to claim them. When we made this new kind of Horde. When we made this city and danced naked on the roof of the Auction House.
We slew Titan Watchers, Old Gods, Demon Lord's, Demon elves, mad elven princes, dragons and Lich Kings.
We built something that would last, has lasted, because we are strong, and our children's children will see this and remember, my grandsire peed on that gate. And he too will pee on that gate. And his sons.
There is something to be said for that.