Fenris and Jarnal sat facing each other.
Many years ago, the two brothers had a face-to-face conversation. At that time, they were still young and had lofty ideals and ambitions.
Father Garad brought two cups, each containing a crumpled piece of paper. Fenris, the elder brother, chose first; the paper read "Thunderlord Clan."
The clever Fenris already knew that the words on the two pieces of paper were exactly the same, and that he was more courageous and resourceful Jarnal, making him suitable to infiltrate the Thunderlord Clan.
From then on, Fenris changed his name and joined the sworn Thunderlord Clan as an outsider.
Those were difficult and unbearable days; Fenris suffered countless hardships and nearly died many times.
If it weren't for the unexpected approval from Gromgal, Fenris would have had almost no chance of succeeding.
Although he wandered far from home, Fenris's heart never changed; he always remembered his father's words before he left:
"My child, the Thunderlord Clan and the Frostwolf Clan share the same blood. They should have united to fight the Ogres, but due to the Orcs' shortsightedness and the accumulation of hatred over generations, they have become irreconcilable enemies. For the Orcs' survival in Frostfire Ridge, change is necessary. This path will be extremely difficult, but you must persevere."
Fenris suffered countless setbacks, but he never lost his childlike heart.
It was Jarnal who changed.
Fenris was lost in thought and somewhat absent-minded, while Jarnal's eyes darted around, trying to find an opportunity to escape.
But the moment his body shifts even slightly, the tentacles immediately turn, still firmly locking onto his heart.
After a while, Fenris finally snapped out of his reverie and began to carefully examine his younger brother.
"My dear brother, it may not matter to you who killed Father, but I still have to show you the truth."
He threw out the transparent orb of light bestowed upon him by Gromgal, and a clear scene unfolded before the two of them.
The Dota Lord Gorsog and Bloodmaul Chieftain Pogar plotted to kill Garad, inciting conflict between the Frostwolf Clan and Lei Shen Clans, and every word of this reached their ears.
Also discussing the matter was an Orcs. Although their faces were not clearly visible, Fenris and Jarnal recognized him as their brother, Durotan.
With things having come to this point, Jarnal had no choice but to back down, whispering:
"I'm sorry, brother, I was wrong."
Fenris shook his head and said with a bitter smile, "It's meaningless. As long as I leave the Frostwolf Clan's camp, I will still be the murderer of my father."
Jarnal asked in a panic, "What do you want me to do to make you believe me? Are you asking me to die too?"
Fenris sighed, "We've all lost. In the end, Durotan is the victor—no, he can't win either. The Ogres are the true winners."
Jarnal was filled with fear and unease, like a sinner awaiting judgment. Fenris glanced at him with Mercy.
"An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, Jarnal, I want you to be childless like me."
"What did you say? They are all your family, we share the same blood. You can't do this, you have no humanity."
Jarnal panicked, sweat streaming down his face. Although he was not yet married, he already had as many as twelve Bastard Son.
Fenris laughed, "You never hesitate to kill your own family."
That night, a major event occurred at the Frostwolf Clan camp.
The twelve Bastard Sons of the acting chief Jarnal died suddenly, their heads hanging on a flagpole, and no one knows who the murderer was.
Meanwhile, Jarnal disappeared without a trace, and Fenris, the chieftain of the Thunderlord Clan, also vanished.
A poaching crew hid inside a snow-covered cave.
The Frostwolf Clan of Frostfire Ridge are thick and tough, with smooth and white fur, making them a highly sought-after commodity, especially among the upper-class Ogres and Orcs chieftains.
Every year, poachers come to Frostfire Ridge to hunt Frostwolf Clan. Interestingly, it is not the Frostwolf Clan that fights against these poachers, but the Thunderlord Clan, which does not raise Frostwolf Clan.
This team was very unlucky; they encountered the war between the Frostwolf Clan and the Thunderlord Clan as soon as they arrived at Frostfire Ridge, and could only hide in the cave and wait for the war to pass.
A refined-looking Orcs found the poaching party and asked the leader with a smile:
Do you want slaves?
Behind the refined Orcs, a burly Orcs was tightly bound, his groin soaked in blood, listless, and with dull eyes.
"It looks like it can fetch a good price," the leader asked.
"How much?"
"One copper coin!"
"So cheap!"
Fenris grinned, revealing a set of perfectly aligned teeth:
"Because he's my brother!"
The Frostwolf Clan and Lei Shen clans lost their leaders overnight, and the two sides ceased hostilities, with the Frostwolf Clan retreating to Wor'gol.
Clans cannot be without a chieftain for a day, and the elders of the Frostwolf Clan plan to welcome Durotan back.
Dota Lord Gorsog and Bloodmaul Chieftain Pogar hosted a farewell banquet for Durotan. On the table sat a steaming hot pot, large enough to stew an entire Clefthoof.
The large pot was bubbling with heat, and various fruits and vegetables were prepared on the table, but there was no meat.
Durotan was overjoyed. He inherited the chieftainship of the Frostwolf Clan and married his beloved Draka. Overnight, Durotan rose from a down-on-his-luck Orcs to the pinnacle of power.
Gorsog chuckled and said, "Brother Durotan, although we are not of the same race, we hit it off immediately. From now on, Frostfire Ridge will be our territory."
Pogar smiled insincerely and said, "Fenris of the Thunderlord Clan has disappeared. I've heard he's always been in poor health. Jarnal killed his three sons; he's probably already dead. Durotan, do you have the confidence to annex the Thunderlord Clan?"
Durotan was overjoyed and said repeatedly, "If we can get your support, this matter has great potential. I swear, from now on, the Orcs of Frostfire Ridge will be the slaves of the Ogres."
Gorsog patted Durotan on the shoulder and said, "I have high hopes for you. Unify Frostfire Ridge, and then gradually conquer the other Clans. We eagerly await your success."
Pogar chimed in, "May all Orcs of Draenor be slaves of Ogres."
Just as Durotan was about to pledge his loyalty, Gorsog suddenly struck, gripping his throat tightly and rendering him speechless.
At the same time, Pogar subdued Durotan from behind and plunged his head into the boiling cauldron.
Durotan struggled violently for a short while before becoming motionless. The two Ogre lords threw him into the cauldron and exchanged a knowing smile.
The Frostwolf Clan is in a state of disarray, which is exactly what the Ogres want to see.
A pile of bones was thrown into the seaside junkyard, just like the Orcs that had been eaten by Ogres before.
After an unknown amount of time, Durotan slowly awoke to find himself reduced to a mere soul.
What place is this?
Durotan stood on the garbage heap, recalling his past life, and burst into tears.
Stormwind Keep.
As dawn broke, Varian, Khadgar, and Maraad were wide awake.
Varian smiled bitterly, "People always die. Just as Medivh wished, open the Dark Portal and let Azeroth be destroyed!"
Maraad whispered, "For Medivh's sake, our deaths are worthwhile."
Khadgar chuckled self-deprecatingly, "His King can stay in the rear, while I have to lead a bunch of cannon fodder to my death. How boring and hopeless."
Even standing at the pinnacle of power in this world, one still cannot control Destiny; one is merely a pawn on a chessboard.
Moreover, many people don't even have the chance to become pawns.