Since the orcs had never set foot in the vast seas of Draenor, seafaring was an entirely foreign concept to them.
After arriving in Azeroth, this fierce and warlike race was forced to adapt to the rules of warfare in this new world—one of which was the strategic utilization of naval power.
If they wished to cross the continent of Lordaeron, using the land route via the Thandol Span was undoubtedly the worst choice.
That path would force them into a narrow choke point, where they would face the well-prepared defenses of the Alliance soldiers, who would be lying in wait.
The sea, however, offered them another option.
Yet, even with the assistance of the trolls and goblins, the orcs found it nearly impossible to establish a powerful naval force in such a short time.
Even if they could build the strongest warships, they lacked enough skilled sailors to man them.
"Ten years to build an army, a hundred years to build a navy"—this truth was not limited to Earth alone.
Thus, the cunning Warchief Orgrim decided to abandon the idea of constructing actual warships.
Instead, he focused on building troop transports, which were relatively easier to control and required little technical expertise.
Even so, due to their primitive construction methods, the orcs' transport ships were extremely crude.
They looked like bare, floating coffins, with their only advantage being their sheer durability—though that was likely more a result of the orcs' lack of fine craftsmanship than a deliberate design choice.
Nevertheless, this at least enhanced their defensive capability, preventing them from sinking too easily.
However, the greatest strength of these orcish transport ships was not their durability, but their overwhelming numbers.
To transport a sufficient number of troops, orcish laborers and slaves toiled without rest, producing over a thousand of these crude vessels.
Their numbers even surpassed that of the human navy.
Though the combat strength of each individual ship was incomparable to that of the Alliance fleet, the sheer volume alone made it impossible for the humans to eliminate them easily.
Of course, while transport ships were not warships and lacked combat capabilities at sea, the orcs were not without means of retaliation—their trump card was the Dragonmaw Clan's red dragon riders.
Though only a limited number of trained red dragon riders were available to escort the fleet, these mighty creatures were already a significant threat to the Alliance's naval forces.
With the advantage of aerial mobility, the red dragons were nearly invincible.
Their tough scales rendered most human weapons ineffective, and their scorching dragon breath was the ultimate bane of wooden sailing ships.
During past conflicts, whenever the red dragons took action, the Alliance had no means to resist. If they wished to avoid catastrophic losses, they had no choice but to retreat.
At least, that was how things should have gone.
However, under Alaric's meticulous planning, a new script had already been written.
Upon receiving the signal that the orcish fleet had set sail, Grand Admiral Daelin Proudmoore, supreme commander of the Alliance's naval forces, immediately took action with his fleet.
Judging by the orcs' departure point and their current heading, their target was none other than the coastal regions of Hillsbrad Foothills.
Though Anduin Lothar had hastily deployed forces along the coastline to establish defenses, the vast stretch of shoreline was too extensive to be completely fortified in such a short period.
Daelin led his fleet to a critical point along the orcs' expected route—near the Isle of Zul'Dare. After making brief preparations and resupplying, they awaited the enemy's arrival.
Alaric's calculations were flawless.
By the time the orcish and Alliance fleets finally encountered each other, it was the dead of night.
Even in the darkness, Admiral Daelin Proudmoore could clearly see countless glimmers of light flickering on the distant horizon.
He knew those were the lanterns and torches aboard the orcish ships, used for nighttime navigation. As an inexperienced navy, they relied on these lights to avoid collisions and disasters at sea.
Yet, for Daelin and his fleet, these lights were beacons—perfect targets to initiate an attack.
Having spent his entire life leading naval campaigns across the open seas, Daelin's experience in maritime warfare was unmatched in all of Azeroth. To this seasoned "sea wolf," the prey was still too far away; with the range of his warship cannons in mind, he needed to let them get a bit closer before unleashing his strike.
A skilled hunter, after all, had patience.
Soon, the lights of the orcish fleet drew nearer.
Closer.
Even closer.
However, before issuing the order to attack, Daelin found himself momentarily stunned by the sheer size of the enemy fleet.
What an enormous armada!
As far as the eye could see, the entire sea was densely packed with orcish vessels. Although their formation was chaotic, the sheer volume of ships stretched for miles.
Thousands of vessels, their torches illuminating the waters as bright as day.
Such an overwhelming number gave them a seemingly insurmountable advantage. Aside from the mass evacuation of Stormwind's people, Daelin had never seen a fleet of this magnitude.
However, unlike the civilian ships used in Stormwind's evacuation, these were supposed to be a combat fleet—yet something was terribly wrong.
A closer look, and Daelin suddenly burst into laughter.
Despite their numbers, these orcish vessels were anything but warships. In fact, they weren't even on par with ordinary civilian ships. No, these crude constructions were nothing more than floating coffins on the sea.
Against such an enemy, this battle would be far too easy.
Without hesitation, Daelin issued the order to attack.
In stark contrast to the orcs, the Alliance fleet operated with strict discipline.
The moment Daelin's command was given, the ships lit up their long-darkened lanterns, deliberately revealing their presence to the Horde.
Only now did the orcs realize they had sailed straight into an ambush.
Caught off guard, the inexperienced orcish sailors panicked.
Before the Alliance could even fire a shot, chaos erupted among the Horde's transport fleet.
In their confusion, some ships veered off course, colliding with each other, while others failed to communicate using flag signals—many either forgot the signals altogether or mistranslated them in their frantic state.
Several transport ships even rammed into each other in sheer desperation.
Yet, despite the ridiculous spectacle before him, Daelin showed no mercy.
At his command, the vanguard of the Alliance fleet formed a battle line, executing a textbook naval maneuver.
With perfect coordination, they positioned themselves at an advantageous angle and launched their first broadside volley at the orcish fleet.
The night sky erupted with cannon fire, and the sea was instantly shrouded in smoke and flame.
Under the relentless bombardment of the Alliance, the Horde suffered devastating losses.
Countless transport ships were shattered to pieces by direct hits, while others capsized from the sheer force of near-misses.
The orcs' crude construction methods had made their ships sluggish and unbalanced—flaws that now cost them dearly.
The sea was soon littered with wreckage and drowning orcs, swallowed mercilessly by the raging waves.
Daelin quickly realized something remarkable: he had the opportunity to obliterate the entire Horde army at sea.
However, what he did not yet know was that an unexpected turn of events was about to unfold—one that would soon make him acutely aware of the limitations of an ordinary navy.
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