Upon hearing that Thrall was to be killed, Osaid hesitated for a long time. "I've heard them say that Thrall is kind and benevolent, the greatest hero and Savior of Azeroth, who has saved the world countless times. I can't kill such a good man; it would be tantamount to destroying Azeroth."
The Big Candle Gagg sneered, "You believe this nonsense? How does Thrall compare to the number of times the Kesliel Royal Family has saved the world?"
Osaid replied, "Of course, there's no comparison. For the Prince of Kethriel to inherit the throne, he must save the universe ten thousand times."
Gagg snorted, "Use your own eyes to see and observe, and you'll know what kind of person Thrall is."
Osaid muttered a few times, "I believe Thrall must be a great guy, and I will support him."
As the sound faded into the distance, Big Candle Gagg, wiped the sweat from his brow and murmured, "Did I ruin him?"
A carrier pigeon landed on Robbie's arm. After reading the intelligence sent by the SI:7 carrier pigeon, Robbie fell into thought.
"News from Thunder Bluff: Anachronos is leading a team of five, including Khadgar and Durotan, who plan to enter the Year 18 of the Dark Portal."
Krasus asked suspiciously, "What were they planning to do the year Thrall fled Durnholde? I heard that Nozdormu sent out many adventurer teams, but they all never returned. Later, a large number of skeletons were found in an Orcs Camp in the mountains near Durnholde, with traces of Orcs bite marks."
"They were all fed to the Orcs?" Robbie asked.
"Indeed!" Krasus said, "This was all Nozdormu's way of currying favor with Thrall. Thrall led some of the Orcs out of Durnholde and hid in the deep mountains without food. It was thanks to the adventurers who descended from the sky that they survived those difficult times."
Robbie said seriously, "These five are clearly not here to be Thrall's food. Their goal is the Black Temple Timeline, to use Thrall to establish coordinates and unravel the mysteries of history."
Krasus thought for a moment, "Should we go?"
"Velen is in the group too, we have to go, and we have to go a few days earlier than them," Robbie said firmly.
Lieutenant Edras Blackmoore was getting on in years; his hair and beard were turning gray, and his once eagle-like eyes had softened.
Some say he has the eyes of a dragon, which is extremely high praise, implying a bright future and the possibility of becoming a King.
Blackmoore, from a family of generals, scoffed at this, saying that the foolish Warlock did not know that to become King, one had to please Medivh, and that this was not something that could be achieved through simple flattery.
As the commander of the Durnholde detention center, in charge of tens of thousands of Orcs, his rank was only lieutenant, which, strictly speaking, did not match the position.
Blackmoore was a lazy, low-ranking officer with no ambition, addicted to alcohol, and spent his days in a daze, being more often sober than drunk.
I was actually forced into this position.
This was a very difficult position. Starting from the eleventh year after the Dark Portal, which was the second year after King Terenas established the Peace Dove, Lordaeron was unable to provide supplies for the Orcs internment camps and had to solve the Orcs' food problem themselves.
Every day when they open their eyes, tens of thousands of Orcs are waiting to be fed. The Peace Dove cares deeply about the Orcs; if even one Orcs goes hungry, the commander has to feed his entire family to the Orcs.
His superior, a high-ranking officer highly regarded by Uther and a brave Warrior, was caught red-handed by the Peace Dove because a young Orcs was playing and missed his meal. As a result, the entire family was sent to Internment Camp, where they were torn apart and eaten alive by the Orcs.
Before Blackmoore, twenty-three commanders and their families had already become Orcs food.
Lieutenant Blackmoore was put in this position because those of higher rank had all been eaten by the Orcs.
One night, as usual, he got completely drunk. In his hazy state, someone read an appointment letter to him. When he sobered up, he unknowingly became the commander of the Durnholde Detention Center.
For a drunkard who's just wasting his life, this is a deadly job.
Blackmoore didn't value his life much; he felt he had already gained enough by surviving the Orcs Wars.
But he still had a family, Blackmoore had to be extremely careful. A drunkard has no wisdom, only the reckless spirit of a fearless brute.
First, he led a few drinking buddies to raid the camp of the Peace Dove. Unexpectedly, the Peace Dove were made of paper and did not even put up a fight. They were all fed to the Orcs.
This was tantamount to a challenge to the monarchy of Lordaeron, and unsurprisingly, it drew the intervention of the Order of the Silver Hand.
Uther personally led the Silver Hand to conquer Durnholde. Blackmoore was no match for him and had no choice but to release dozens of Orcs, which terrified Uther so much that he fled back to Lordaeron overnight.
From then on, Durnholde became Blackmoore's independent little kingdom, where he did as he pleased, and because of Medivh, he dared not kill the Orcs.
Left with no other choice, Blackmoore enslaved the Orcs with cruel methods, ordering them to cultivate fields and labor in dark mines.
They also took advantage of the Orcs' belligerent nature to train a large number of gladiators, winning substantial prize money, which finally allowed them to cover their expenses.
It was Year 18 of the Dark Portal, on a sunny afternoon.
Lieutenant Blackmoore was working in the dark Castle when, taking advantage of his Adjutant's absence, he secretly took out a flask from his pocket and took a sip of wine.
The young female Adjutant pushed open the door and entered, carrying a large stack of documents. She sniffed the air, her beautiful brows furrowing slightly.
"Sir, you've been drinking again. Why don't you take care of your health? Don't forget about your illness."
Blackmoore gave an awkward laugh, "If I die of illness, won't you still be there for me?"
The female Adjutant snapped, "Without you, who will deal with the Peace Doves of Peace and the deadly Order of the Silver Hand?"
Blackmoore shrugged. "Fine, I'll be your shield. Leave the documents here, I'll take care of them right away."
"There's something," the female Adjutant hesitated for a moment, "More Peace Doves have come to protest, and there are many young noblemen among them."
Blackmoore became excited, and his face flushed an unnatural red.
"Come on, take me to see them. It's been so long since I've had such fun activities."
The female Adjutant stared with her large, bright eyes. "You're going to feed them to the Orcs?"
Blackmoore licked his lips, a sickly smile on his face. "Why not? Since you're going to speak up for the Orcs, then become Orcs food yourself. I know your concerns, your worries about their noble status. Don't worry, I've heard that most of the nobles in Lordaeron are too hungry to even lift a weapon."
Dozens of richly dressed nobles gathered at the Castle gate, waving flags of Peace Doves and shouting loudly.
The leader was a young man, probably just over twenty years old, with a ruddy complexion.
Blackmoore could tell at a glance that this was a pampered nobleman who didn't worry about food, and therefore probably wasn't from Lordaeron.
"I am Blackmoore." Blackmoore's tone was low-key, with a hint of flattery.
The young man, arrogant and Blackmoore, declared, "I am Sir Chris of Stormwind City. You have treated the kind and benevolent Orcs cruelly; you must pay the price."
Blackmoore picked at his ear. "Merciful and kind? Very well, I'll send you off to see the benevolent Orcs."