The celebration is well under way and Thrall, Warchief of the Horde, can't help but feel a swell of happiness as he stands alongside Cairne and Vol'jin, looking out over a massive party where all three groups who had stood in defense of Kalimdor can be seen peacefully comingling. If you had told him that his people would not only one day fight side by side with humans, but also celebrate with them afterwards… Thrall isn't sure he would have believed it.

But he cannot deny what is taking place right before his eyes. Orcs, Tauren, and Trolls exchange hearty laughter with Night Elves, Humans, Gnomes, and Dwarves. They might have been split between their different bases during the battle, but now, after the fact, they engage in casual camaraderie that Thrall has to admit… makes him hopeful for the future.

Indeed, that is why he stands with Cairne and Vol'jin now. Thrall has already spoken with his orcish lieutenants, the Chieftains of the Orc Clans who have followed him from Lordaeron all the way to Kalimdor. They stand at his back even now, ready to follow him into a brighter future for their people. Their victory over the Legion, to say nothing of the alliances they've managed to make since coming to these lands, has only served to further the trust that his people have in him. Needless to say, Thrall's leadership of the Orcish Horde is not likely to be questioned any time soon.

But at the same time, is this not supposed to be a New Horde? Even in the Old Horde, there were more than just orcs. There were the ogres who traveled with them from Draenor, and the Amani Trolls who allied with them against the High Elves of Quel'Thalas. While Thrall had no intention of waging a war of conquest like his predecessors, that did not mean he should ignore everything they did. Especially Orgrim Doomhammer, who made allies of the disparate and downtrodden.

Looking to his companions, Thrall grunts, drawing their attention over to him as he takes a swig of the grog in his mug. It burns going down, as good grog should.

"My friends… I would speak of our future. Of the future of our peoples. What say the two of you?"

There is quiet for a moment, before Cairne speaks up first, voice rumbling in his chest.

"Hmm… the Bloodhoof Tribe will always owe you and your orcs much, Warchief. Your Horde… I would be honored to have my Tribe join it. However, I seen an opportunity for more… an opportunity that you yourself have made possible with your actions."

Thrall blinks at that, inclining his head in acknowledgment for Cairne to continue. After getting his thoughts in order, the Tauren Chieftain does exactly that.

"For longer than I have walked this world, my people have suffered at the cruel predations of the centaurs, the quilboar, and the harpies. The centaurs most of all. With your people's help, the Bloodhoof Tribe has done the unthinkable. We have managed to drive the centaur out of Mulgore and claimed the grasslands of our ancestors for our own. For the first time in centuries, we have a chance to build something new."

Looking out over the celebration, Cairne's eyes look almost misty… though Thrall acknowledges that that might be a trick of the light.

"I wish to return to Mulgore with my Tribe and create a refuge there. Not just for the courageous Bloodhoof Braves who helped save Kalimdor from the Legion… but for all of the Tauren Tribes. I believe, now that we have a chance to build ourselves a home, that the tauren of Kalimdor will come flocking. And I believe, once they see what friendship with you and your orcs has wrought, they will see the wisdom in joining your Horde officially."

Turning to him fully, Cairne drops to one knee and bows his head, placing a fist on his chest.

"I say to you now, Warchief Thrall. Ask it of me and I will remain. I and my Bloodhoof Braves will join you and your Horde here and now. But release us to return to the grasslands… and I will bring you tenfold what you have now."

Thrall is quick to place a hand on his friend's broad shoulder, feeling immediately uncomfortable at Cairne's show of support.

"Please my friend, please rise."

Cairne does so, even as Thrall smiles.

"As always, your wisdom is unmatched Cairne. You need not ask me for permission to do something that will undeniably benefit your people. Nor are you my servant, for me to order around and abuse. Go, Chieftain of the Bloodhoof Tribe. Return to Mulgore. Create a home for your people. Rally the tauren to your cause. And when you return to me, I will happily clasp arms with you… as brother."

Cairne bows his head, and Thralls nods at the honorable tauren. Then, he looks to Vol'jin. The Shadow Hunter chuckles, crouching low to the ground as was his people's preference.

"Ah. I cannot be offerin' ya such heady promises, Warchief. Dey Trolls of Kalimdor not be so easily swayed, I'm afraid. My people have long memories, mon. Dey remember their Empires, even to dis day."

Shaking himself, Vol'jin snorts.

"Dey also not all be as nice as dey Darkspear Tribe. Hm. But… we never be forgettin' what the Horde did for us neither. Dis be my solemn vow, as Chieftain of dey Darkspear. From now until da end, we fight for you, Warchief. For da Horde."

That's more than fair. Indeed, Cairne's heady promise had already taken Thrall aback. He knew better than to expect that Vol'jin would be able to do the same with his own people's tribes. The Trolls, from what Thrall knew, were scattered all across the face of Azeroth, whereas the Tauren had never left Kalimdor before.

Nodding to Vol'jin, Thrall smiles warmly.

"I require nothing else from you, my friend. For the Horde."

Before any of them can speak again, a female voice suddenly rings out from the party.

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"A toast! A toast, please!"

All eyes, including Thrall and his allies, turn towards Lady Jaina Proudmoore as she holds up a cup. No one hesitates to hold a cup of their own up or go and find one as well. No one dares to sneer or turn away from the woman who saved so many of them from the jaws of death with her powerful arcane magic. Without Jaina's teleportation, many more of both her own people and the Horde would have died during the Battle for Mount Hyjal. That is indisputable.

Holding her glass high, Jaina speaks loudly and clearly as silence falls over the celebration, everyone listening to her words.

"A toast to Duke Lionheart, Paladin of the Order of the Silver Hand! A brave man. A good fighter. A stalwart knight. Even in his advanced age, he followed me across the sea to this strange, unknown place. He fought with me to protect our new home, and he fought alongside all of us to save Azeroth from the Burning Legion. He and his fellow knights fell in honorable battle, so that I and others might survive, so that we might escape. Please… to Duke Lionheart!"

"Duke Lionheart!"

"Sir Lionheart!"

"For the Silver Hand!"

Cries rise up among Jaina's people at first, but the toast is quickly taken up by others as well. Thrall smiles as he sees orcs raise their mugs and let out roars, beating their chests with fists in honor of the human warrior. Thrall himself, raises his mug and does the same, remembering Duke Lionheart well. He might not have known the human paladin personally, but in his handful of interactions with him, he'd never got the impression that the man blamed any of them for the actions of the Old Horde. A rare and honorable individual indeed.

That said, something Jaina has said prompts Thrall to step forward, even as the cries start to die down. When people begin to notice him, they fall silent all the quicker, and his orcs begin stomping their feet, drawing more and more attention to the Orc Warchief. Jaina herself turns his way, even as Thrall holds his mug up to HER next.

"Another toast. A toast to Lady Jaina Proudmoore. If not for her magic, I and my warriors would not have escaped the Legion's advance. To fall in battle protecting your home is a warrior's greatest honor. But to live to fight another day… is priceless. And we still have much to do here on Kalimdor! To Lady Proudmoore! To our new home!"

More cries. More roars. Jaina blushes but smiles and dips her head, accepting the praise without comment. Of course, now that Jaina and Thrall have both done it, things quickly become a series of toasts from all sorts of people to others. Be they fallen heroes, or even living warriors who had comported themselves well in battle.

The following toasts are smaller affairs, with smaller groups cheering for them as they start up all over the party. Meanwhile, Jaina makes her way over to Thrall as he steps back to where Cairne and Vol'jin await her. She gives them each a nod of her head, acknowledging them before sipping from her glass. Thrall, after a moment's hesitation, goes for broke.

"We were just discussing the future of the Horde, Lady Proudmoore. I wonder… how do you see yourself fitting into that future if you don't mind me asking?"

It's possible she'll take his question as an unintended insult, but Thrall considers it worth the risk. Of course, the moment she processes his words and freezes in place, he knows that the best case scenario is too much to hope for.

"I… apologies. I will be blunt. I do not see my people ever joining the Horde, Warchief. I acknowledge that your New Horde is not like the Old… but you are still orcs. And as much as we have proven that humans and orcs cannot only fight side by side but also live in harmony with one another… my people will never accept putting themselves under the leadership of an Orc Warchief. And I would be doing a disservice to them if I tried to force the issue. It's simply a bridge too far."

Jaina looks pained as she says this. But Thrall understands. More than that, it was only to be expected. She's right, after all. It's one thing for Cairne and Vol'jin to swear loyalty to him and his Horde. But Jaina represents people who have suffered at the hands of orcs in the past. And while those wounds have healed, the scars that remain will forever run deep.

Tilting his head towards Jaina to show there is no offense, Thrall rumbles.

"I understand, Lady Proudmoore. You are right, of course."

Jaina smiles a weak smile and takes another sip from her glass before throwing out a lifeline.

"Still, I do not believe that precludes there being peace between our two peoples. Already, my ships are scouting the coastline of Kalimdor for a suitable place to build a harbor. Given that the vast majority of able-bodied men I brought from Lordaeron have at least some sailing background by this point, we think it best that we build our new home on the coast… if not an island, if a suitable one can be found. I shall make sure that word is sent when we decide where we are settling down roots. There is no reason that our two peoples cannot peacefully coexist, especially when Kalimdor is such a big place."

She sounds hopeful. Eager, even. It's obvious that the thought of settling somewhere fills Jaina with excitement. And honestly, that excitement is infectious. But Thrall still finds himself feeling a little… cynical. He hums, about to reply… when Jaina suddenly perks up. Her gaze has caught upon something off in the distance… or rather someone. Before Thrall can speak, she turns back to them and bows her head respectfully.

"It has been a pleasure, but I must be off. Thank you for your time."

And with that, the human mage moves back into the crowded celebration… making a beeline for a certain Warsong Chieftain who has just showed his face at long last. As Jaina goes to Rognak, Thrall watches the two of them, not entirely sure what to think if he's being honest. At his sides, Cairne and Vol'jin both have their own thoughts on the matter.

"Heh. Well, if nothing else, it would seem the ties between orcs and humans might be able to get even stronger with some more time."

"Aye, mon. Specifically the ties between dat orc and dat human, heh."

Thrall chuckles good-naturedly at the teasing… hiding the inner turmoil that he feels as he watches Jaina encircle one of Rognak's large, thick arms with her own and guide him away from the main area that the celebration is taking place in. It is not jealousy that Thrall is feeling right now. He does not wish he were in Rognak's place, especially since he knows the Warsong Chieftain is currently being courted by two different women at once.

He does not envy the orc druid having to figure out how to navigate his relationships with Shandris Feathermoon and Jaina Proudmoore.

Still, a part of Thrall wonders at the bonds that Rognak is forging. After the internment of their people, the flight from Lordaeron, and the battles here on Kalimdor… the Orcish Clans have weakened in their individualism, by and large. There is no longer so much separation between the orcs who remain. They are, for the first time in history, all one people, all one Horde in TRUTH.

Save for one. The Warsong Clan still stands a step apart from the rest of the Horde. With their druids and their bonds with the Night Elves, they have the most Clan Identity remaining. This in and of itself is not a bad thing, but combined with Rognak's actions, many of which are taken without consulting his Warchief… sometimes Thrall wonders if Rognak truly sees him as his superior. Or if the Warsong Chieftain instead views them as peers.

Thrall is not so small-minded that he needs to be kowtowed or bowed to in submission or subservience. But for all the good Rognak has done for their people, he will always be the orc who killed Thrall's brother. And while Grommash might have forgiven Rognak for his actions, Thrall isn't so sure he'll ever be able to do the same.

… Even still, Thrall would not allow himself to fall into a spiral of self-doubt. The future was brighter than ever, and he would be doing a disservice both to himself and the Horde if he started chasing shadows and making enemies where there were none.

Rognak was an ally. And his bonds with the Night Elves and Humans would hopefully only enrich and strengthen the Horde in the end. And if they did not… well, Thrall would cross that bridge when he came to it, he supposed.