The alabaster parapets of Lordaeron's capital loom before you in the distance. The proud, defiant armies of the Alliance stand resolute in their final, fleeting moments.
All that remains is the shrill, clarion call to battle and the fulfillment of our destiny. The tides of darkness are now at hand!
The victory pyres burn high into the twilight skies covering the ruined capital of Lordaeron. Your success has led Orgrim Doomhammer, War Chief of the Orcish Hordes, to elevate you to the station of Warlord, thus giving you power and the command of your own clan. The Alliance has finally been crushed, with all those surviving being slain and cremated as is dictated by the rituals. At long last Azeroth and all of its lands belong to the thunderous force known to those foolish enough to stand in its way as the Horde!
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I am Ashley. My pronouns are she/her.