The dirt path you wander down is littered by discarded pine needles. The evening light seems to warp Conquest Hold into something animate: a bear within its cave, a wolf biding its time before the hunt. Around the walls, several grunts of mixed races are finishing their workload of the day, packing their tools and pulling burlap over piles of sharpened wood.
The Horde banners here are accompanied by another set of banners: black pieces of cloth with stark white drawings of teeth.
Before you, two Tauren and an Orc laboriously haul a catapult in through the gates. The Troll watching the gate salutes them, and they nod a quick acknowledgement as they move quickly past.
An arrow buries itself in the ground before your feet. Up on the ramparts a Blood Elf smiles around his bow. The Troll scout looks up and waves him off.
“Go be a bodda’ somewhe’e else mon.” The troll looks you over, grinning, revealing a missing tooth. “Whatchuu doin’ ‘ere? Chuu got business wit da Blacktoot’ Grin?”
