How dare you do this to me?
Orgrimmar could hardly believe his eyes, and then he was speechless, only able to let out muffled screams.
Thrall knew how powerful words could be. After all, this was an Orgrimmar- controlled camp, and the old Orcs might have some unexpected trump cards up their sleeves, such as a sudden attack by a squad of Silver Hand Paladins.
Villains have always died from talking too much. Thrall considered himself a glorious and great figure, so he absolutely would not allow Orgrimmar to utter a sound, thus causing an unexpected reversal. His hammer was the first thing he did, smashing hard into Orgrimmar's face.
Two sharp fangs shattered, and all his teeth fell out. Orgrimmar felt dizzy and then suffered a heavy blow to his chin. The old Orcs finally lost the ability to resist and staggered to the ground.
This executioner, stained with human blood, the wicked Orcs Warchief, has finally fallen.
Thrall wasn't satisfied yet. He pulled out a sharp dagger, personally severed Orgrimmar's tendons in his hands and feet, gouged out his eyes, and then put them in his mouth and chewed them up.
"A useless old Orcs."
Thrall spat out his chewed-up eyeballs and stomped on Orgrimmar's face several times.
The Orgrimmar guards collapsed to the ground, utterly bewildered by this sudden turn of events.
Thrall walked over with a sinister grin on his face, this time wielding an axe.
In the center of the Orcs camp, a flagpole stood tall.
The area beneath the flagpole was piled high with Orcs heads. The Orcs' faces, which had been contorted with rage, now displayed unexpected panic and fear. This frozen final expression was Thrall's perfect masterpiece.
After pacing Orgrimmar, Thrall walked through the camp. Every Orcs who had mocked him, or who had spoken ill of him behind his back, even those who showed the slightest contempt in their eyes, was mercilessly beheaded by Thrall. Looking at the hundreds of Orcs heads piled together, Thrall felt a cruel sense of satisfaction.
Thrall was greatly gratified by the fear on the Orcs' heads. Many Orcs who considered themselves warriors were eventually terrified by Thrall's cruel methods. How many were driven insane by torture, and how many were left excrement and urine, stinking to high heaven?
Faced with a variety of cruel tortures, even the brave Orcs produced many cowards.
Thrall was very pleased with himself. Behind him stood a group of Orcs, whom Thrall had carefully selected to swear allegiance to him and follow him to the death. They were all dominated by Thrall's cruelty, and they trembled at the mere mention of his name.
Each of them had their hands stained with the blood of their own kind, which gave them a special aura and made them different. They were more loyal to Thrall and more cruel and ruthless to their own kind.
"From this day forward, you will be my personal guard. You will no longer belong to any Clans, nor will you obey the orders of any Clans leader. You are a powerful force that is loyal only to the Warchief. Thrall, the future Savior, will be your sole leader, and your name will be Kor'kron."
At the top of the flagpole, a series of agonizing screams echoed, each one so pitiful that it felt like being in Nightmare, sending chills down one's spine.
The newly formed Kor'kron all knelt on the ground, submitting to this cruel lord of fear.
"Fantastic! Your performance has once again exceeded my expectations."
Medivh came out, a satisfied smile on his face, watching Thrall's growth with satisfaction.
"Thrall, you'll soon become addicted to this cruel feeling." Medivh looked up at the former Warchief hanging at the top of the flagpole Medivh was surprised to find that Orgrimmar was undergoing a particularly cruel form of torture.
This subjected him to constant fear and excruciating pain, inflicting torture on his mind and body—a form of interrogation Medivh had never encountered before.
It can only be attributed to talent; most people wouldn't come up with such an ingenious method.
"Rights gained from fear are the most secure. I will give Orgrimmar a dignified end. For you Orcs, dying on the battlefield is the best end. You might as well die during the liberation of the Internment Camp."
Thrall to Medivh and said, "The Doomhammer will be grateful for your mercy."
"Thrall, your Kor'kron Legion idea is excellent. The Orcs' history of being divided into Clans must be over. Next, you need to visit all the Orcs internment camps. Before officially going to war with Lordaeron, the Orcs need to undergo a purification, a reform. No matter how large a loose force is, it is just a pile of loose sand, vulnerable to attack. Only when they are all united and bound together can they become an invincible force."
Thrall's decision to establish the Kor'kron Legion was impromptu. It was only with Medivh's guidance that he realized its profound significance. Thrall quickly bowed deeply to Medivh to express his gratitude for his advice.
"Guardian, the Orcs in the Internment Camp are not difficult to subdue. Only the Warsong Clan in the Lordaeron Wilds are a challenge. They have been on the run for over ten years, Warsong Clan Grom Hellscream, is an invincible warrior."
Medivh smiled and shook his head, saying confidently:
"All courage seems childish and laughable in the face of intrigue. When your reputation for cruelty spreads throughout the Warsong Clan, you will surely gain reliable allies. Under the sway of fear and cruelty, there is no choice but to submit or resist."
Thrall seemed to understand something and nodded seriously.
Orgrimmar held on for a full ten days before taking his last breath.
This exceptionally strong old Orcs weighed less than thirty pounds before he died. His thin, bony frame was chilling, and no one would have guessed that he was once Invincible warrior who charged rampage across the Battlefield.
However, Thrall found the extreme terror on the old Orcs's face before his death unbelievable.
Thrall estimated that in the final days, the old Orcs should have been tortured to the point of numbness and barely clinging to life.
After reading it carefully, Medivh also looked grave. He clearly knew the inside story, but he said nothing, gazing at the sky with a hint of anxiety.
"Now, only one question remains."
Medivh found a secret letter in his hand, delivered by the Peace Dove led by Jaina. It had already proven its worth so quickly; Jaina's performance had exceeded Medivh's expectations.
In return, Medivh rewarded Jaina by enhancing her magical abilities.
"Kel'Thuzad, so you were hiding in Andorhal. It's time to give you a big gift."
As Orgrimmar breathed his last, Robbie saw the magnificent royal city of Lordaeron.
This is a huge and sturdy city, with tall and thick walls that still bear the marks of war.
This is also a city eerily Anjing, gloomy like an old man in his twilight years.
The long-damaged city gates were wide open, but few people were coming or going. The emaciated guards sat listlessly against the city wall, too weak to even glance at the passersby.
Arthas gazed at the familiar city walls, at every brick and tile, his eyes slightly moist.
Lordaeron, are you alright?