This is utterly devastating! It's a blow to the soul!
In Ironforge, Magni Bronzebeard gripped the letter Thrall had sent tightly, letting out a series of agonizing screams.
Brann Bronzebeard looked at his brother, puzzled, and asked:
"Thrall is delusional, demanding we join him in attacking Icecrown Citadel. How could we Humans associate with those vile Orcs? Of course, we refused."
Magni shook his head in disappointment.
"Brann, you only see the surface, not the key point. Thrall's actions are to check the loyalty of the Alliance races on behalf of Elune. If a traitor like Arthas the Lich King appears, he will gather everyone's strength and wipe them out as he did the Scourge."
Brann then realized that Thrall's invitation was a death knell, concerning the very survival of the Dwarves, and asked anxiously, "What should we do?"
Magni's face darkened, and he gritted his teeth, saying:
"Whether someone is loyal or not depends entirely on Thrall's word. If you want Thrall to speak well of you before the Moon Goddess, you have to bribe him handsomely. I originally thought that with 200,000 Orcs killed in Icecrown Citadel, both the Orcs and the Scourge weakened, and given the decadent lifestyle of Orgrimmar's upper class, the Orcs' fighting strength was no longer what it used to be, so I didn't need to worry about them. I never expected that Thrall would find a way to overcome this difficulty."
Brann's expression grew even more grim, and he asked reluctantly, "How should we bribe Thrall?"
Magni frowned. As the secret Guardian of the World Tree and the secret envoy of Elune, he should support Thrall and set an example at this crucial moment.
"Thrall's biggest shortage is military rations. We must make our children tighten their belts, reducing their three meals a day to one, and save the food to send to Orgrimmar."
Brann, listless, could only obey. The Orcs soldiers came from the Caverns of Time; the number of soldiers matched the amount of food available, which meant the Orcs was inflating again.
Magni turned pale with anger, and helplessly gave the order:
"Furthermore, gather ten thousand elite Dwarves; I will personally lead them to Northrend. That damned Thrall, he actually turned the tables this time! I'm so unwilling to accept this."
In Stormwind City, the Undead Varian rarely comes out to meet people, leaving trivial matters to the officials of the Peace Dove. However, the letter Thrall sent was of great importance, and he had to report it to Varian.
Varian had carefully read Thrall's letter. He lacked Magni Bronzebeard's political acumen and couldn't decipher its secrets, but he knew that Thrall's situation must Emissary behind the scenes, leaving Stormwind City with no choice but to comply.
"How many more troops can we muster?" Varian asked weakly.
The Peace Dove official shrugged and said:
"I regret to inform you, King Majesty, that Stormwind City and Elwynn Forest are out of troops. Those damned farmers have all deserted, and even the Murlocs and Gnolls have dwindled in number. My suggestion is to purchase Troll slaves from Booty Bay."
Although this is only a drop in the ocean, it's still a considerable effort, and the Emissary shouldn't blame him. Varian asked worriedly:
But do we still have money?
The official narrowed his eyes and smiled maliciously:
"The Goblins of Booty Bay have long coveted Duskwood. Your King, if you cede Duskwood, the Goblins will surely send you a large number of Troll slaves."
In Stranglethorn Vale, the large number of Trolls has always been a thorn in the Goblins. However, the wealthy Goblins hire adventurers to capture these Trolls and sell them as slaves to various places.
Varian shrugged weakly. "Fine, it's decided then."
Duskwood has long since broken away from Stormwind City's rule, and the fact that Darkshire has secretly formed the Night Watch is evidence of betrayal of the Wrynn royal family.
Trading them for Troll slaves is a very good deal. As for the future conflict between the Goblins and Darkshire, let them resolve it themselves; Varian doesn't care.
Exodar.
The Prophet Velen carefully read Thrall's letter, placed it solemnly before him, slowly closed his eyes, and recited:
"Pure Holy Light, hear my prayer and guide me on my path."
Before the Holy Light surging from the Seat of the Naaru, Velen's mind was at peace, and the crystal in his hand trembled with a strange rhythm, as if in harmony with the Holy Light.
A series of chaotic scenes appeared before Velen's eyes. The disjointed images were like a shattered mirror, and Velen carefully tried to glean the information he wanted from them.
In a fragment of the future, Velen saw himself standing on the Frozen Throne, taking the Crown of Command from Thrall's hand, and the ferocious-looking Thrall showed a simple and honest smile.
"Prophet Velen, you are the most senior member of the Alliance and the Horde, and you are highly respected. Only you are qualified to be the leader of the Scourge. There must be a Lich King."
The chaotic scene quickly vanished without a trace, Velen suddenly opened his eyes, lost in thought.
If one can become the Lich King, one can unravel the secrets of death.
Finally, he raised his head and said in a low voice, "Maraad."
The garrison commander Maraad hurriedly approached Velen and asked piously, "Prophet, has the Holy Light already given us guidance?"
Velen, of course, wouldn't say that he was about to become the Lich King, but rather said it more subtly:
"The Holy Light tells me that this is a Justice cause, and for the sake of Azeroth, we must fight alongside the Orcs, unite with Thrall, the Savior, and together fight against the Evil Scourge."
Maraad stared at Velen in surprise:
"No, no, Prophet, have you forgotten how the Orcs slaughtered us Draenei? The Draenei are scattered and wandering throughout the universe. The Burning Legion killed less than one percent of the Draenei that the Orcs killed. You have hated Archimonde and Kil'jaeden for tens of thousands of years, how could you forget your hatred for the Orcs so quickly?"
Velen's eyes widened, and he said seriously:
"Times have changed, Maraad, and we must change accordingly. Thrall is not like the Old Horde. I have never seen such a benevolent and noble Orcs; his heart is as pure as the Argus Crystal."
Maraad stared at Velen, dumbfounded.
"Prophet, I never expected to hear such words from you. You should be aware of Thrall's actions; he is far more cruel than the chieftains of the Old Horde. I suspect you are possessed by Demons."
Velen looked displeased and reprimanded loudly:
"Maraad, don't forget, I am the leader of the Draenei. I led you to escape from Argus World. Pass on my orders: gather five thousand Draenei warriors. Also, let our Secret Weapon take flight."
This already represents half of the Draenei.
Maraad had grown accustomed to obeying Velen, and had no choice but to reluctantly accept the order.
Thunder Bluff.
Cairne Bloodhoof carefully treasured the letter Thrall had sent him, regarding it as a precious jewel. Then, summoning his generals, Cairne, his face grave, spoke in a deep, resonant voice:
"When the Centaurs trampled our homeland, when our people lacked food and clothing, when the Night Elves plotted to seize the Crossroads, it was the great Savior Thrall saved us. As Tauren, we must not forget our roots, and we must forever remember Thrall's kindness."