"This isn't something that can be solved by acting impulsively. You must calm down, Alexandros."
Fairbanks was trying his best to persuade his superior not to act impulsively.
"We're all going to die anyway, and sooner or later we'll become Orcs rations, so what does it matter?" Mograine said passionately, his eyes filled with determination. "We must fight the Orcs, and die a glorious death is better than living in daily torment."
"You're not ready yet, Alexandros." Fairbanks addressed his superior by his first name affectionately.
"We have only two thousand men, and they are all harboring their own ambitions. The Paladins are filled with fear. Even if we manage to unite, can we defeat a thousand Orcs? Saurfang the Great is a warrior, Mograine, you are no match for him."
Mograine gradually calmed down. He realized that impulsive decisions could have serious consequences, but once he calmed down, Mograine mind became clearer, and his decision became much more rational.
"I've made up my mind, Fairbanks. The Orcs are our enemies. We want independence, to break away from the Order of the Silver Hand. We want to give the Paladins a choice. Uther is not to be feared; we have no reason to be afraid of him. Believe me, more Paladins will turn to our side and join our ranks. Even if we lose the Holy Light in the process, we will fight on. This is our only way out."
Fairbanks finally saw his superior's determination, and he nodded solemnly:
"Alright, since that's the case, Alexandros, if you insist, I have a way." Fairbanks took out a bottle of potion and carefully handed it to Mograine.
Looking at the green, bubbling liquid inside, Mograine exclaimed:
"This is Plague!"
"An improved Plague that can weaken Orcs beyond cure. A member of the Cult of the Damned gave it to me last night," Fairbanks said in a low voice. "Although the Tough Jerky is being transported by Orcs, the farmers in charge are our men. Just one drop of the Plague is enough to infect all the Tough Jerky, and a thousand Orcs will be weakened."
"This is great stuff!"
Mograine grabbed the Plague Potion as if it were his own life.
"The only thing I'm worried about now is the Guardian Medivh," Fairbanks said anxiously. "I think as long as he doesn't kill Saurfang, Medivh shouldn't have any reason to attack. There's no other way but to take a gamble."
Mograine nodded, and after careful consideration, said, "Defeating the Orcs isn't everything. We need to convince the Paladins that the Holy Light is on our side. I have a plan."
Fairbanks had made preparations in advance; he arranged for trusted subordinates to deliver the Plague to the farmers in charge of the Tough Jerky, and a secret storm was brewing in the shadows.
The next morning, just after the Orcs had finished breakfast, the horns of the Silver Hand sounded, and two thousand Silver Hand Paladins, led by Mograine, surrounded the Orcs camp.
"Saurfang, come out here! It's time to pay for your crimes!" Mograine roared.
Saurfang was startled. He quickly came out of the tent, gnawing on a thigh bone in his hand. When he saw Mograine, he smiled, a contemptuous smile on his face.
"Mograine, what courage gives you to oppose the great Orcs? Do you wish to destroy the Azeroth Continent?"
Saurfang bit into the bloody flesh of his thigh bone. He believed in the Orcs' fighting prowess; this was going to be an easy battle. The Orcs were stronger than the Paladins, that was one thing, but more importantly, the Silver Hand would instinctively cower before the Orcs.
"Stop your lies, Saurfang. Today you must kneel and beg for your life." Mograine stared at the thigh bone in the Orcs's hand, his eyes bloodshot, then turned to the Paladins:
"For so long, we have been oppressed by the Orcs and coerced by the Guardian Medivh, committing atrocities against our people. We, the Silver Hand, have committed unforgivable sins. Today, these beasts who have harmed our brothers and sisters stand before us, devouring the flesh and blood of our people. Every one of them is a murderer. Paladins, the Holy Light guides us to resolutely fight against this vile Evil. I want to prove to you that the Holy Light is on our side."
Mograine roared, "Paladins, Charge! Slaughter these Orcs!"
In fact, most Paladins hesitated and watched. Under the oppression of the Orcs and the threat of Uther, the Paladins had long lost the courage to fight the Orcs.
Mograine was Charge by only his personal guards, fewer than a hundred men.
Saurfang the Great laughed heartily, threw away the thigh bone in his hand, and bent down to pick up his Battle Axe.
The Orcs in the camp were all ready for battle. Watching the Paladins rushing towards them like moths to a flame, they licked their lips and swallowed hard, waiting for their feast.
Mograine raised his warhammer and, using the immense force of his warhorse's charge, charged at Saurfang.
Saurfang simply stood there, raising his Battle Axe to block Mograine. The two wrestled, with Saurfang clearly having the upper hand. He revealed a sinister grin:
"Is this your power, you insignificant Paladin? It seems the Holy Light is not on your side today. I tell you, the Holy Light only chooses the strong, and you are unworthy."
With a roar, Saurfang shoved Mograine aside. Even with the strength of his warhorse, Mograine was still unable to withstand the Orcs's terrifying burst of power.
An even more serious problem was that the battle-hardened warhorse was startled by the Orcs's roar, and Mograine lost control of the frightened horse and jumped off.
Saurfang had vanished without a trace. Mograine was startled and turned around alertly, only to be met by a massive Battle Axe. Mograine hastily parried, barely managing to block the sneak attack.
As expected of the King of Ambush, the timing of the attack was perfect, and Mograine nearly lost his life on the spot.
"You have lost, Paladin."
Saurfang clearly had the upper hand; Mograine's arms were limp, and he was showing signs of exhaustion.
"Do you know why we Orcs won? Because noble Orcs are Invincible warriors. We are not afraid to sacrifice ourselves, we are forever fearless." Saurfang swung his axe again and again, and Mograine struggled to keep up.
Finally, Saurfang knocked Mograine's weapon away.
"The final blow." Saurfang is about to finish off Mograine.
"You're the one who lost, you foolish Orcs," Mograine sneered. "Look around you. The Holy Light is on our side."
Saurfang quickly looked around and saw only a sea of blood. All the Orcs in the camp lay in pools of blood, and nearly a hundred Paladins, covered in blood, slowly surrounded him, their eyes bloodshot and filled with Bloodlust cruelty.
"That's impossible!"
In a short period of time, Mograine's Personal Guard slaughtered thousands of Orcs in the camp.
Fairbanks approached Mograine, nodded, and handed him a warhammer.
Saurfang turned pale, hurriedly threw away his Battle Axe, and knelt down with a thud:
"Human sir, have mercy! Don't kill me!"
Mograine turned and looked at the Paladins outside the camp.
Their eyes no longer held hesitation, but were replaced by a fanatical, bloodthirsty gleam.
Paladins!
Mograine raised his Battle Axe high and shouted, "See? The Holy Light is on our side! As long as we have the courage to fight, the Orcs are no match for us!"
The matter of the Plague Potion must be kept secret; Mograine attributed all these miracles to the glory of the Holy Light.
"Holy Light, Holy Light!"
The Paladins were inspired, their morale soared, and they shouted the name of the Holy Light.