Orgrim Doomhammer, the legendary Warchief of the Horde, and the leader of the Orcs in the Second War, possessed extremely high prestige.
Six years after the Dark Portal, the Second War ended, and the Orcs internment camp was established.
It is now the Year 18 of the Dark Portal, a full twelve years have passed.
Without a strong leader like Orgrim, it would be difficult to unite the Orcs.
In order to eventually lead the Orcs, Thrall had no choice but to temporarily set aside his hatred for Orgrim and choose to cooperate with him.
Varimathras facilitated the meeting between the two Orcs in a Valley in the Hillsbrad Foothills.
Orgrim didn't have many Orcs around him, and given his relationship with King Terenas, it wouldn't be difficult for him to rescue some of Orcs.
However, Orgrim didn't know how to feed the Orcs.
After leaving the Internment Camp, Lordaeron had no obligation to support them and they had to fend for themselves.
Orcs don't produce anything, so what do they eat?
There was no choice but to wage war against Lordaeron.
Because of his fear of Medivh, Orgrim delayed taking action to save the Orcs.
When Orgrim saw Thrall, he felt a sense of familiarity, but unfortunately, he couldn't connect it to the frail young man who had been tortured to the point of near death by him.
"So you are Durotan's son, Drek'Thar's apprentice? Truly a young hero! I've heard you've become the new leader of the Frostwolf Clan?"
Orgrim's eyes were filled with admiration; people's status determines how others treat them.
Thrall proudly declared, "Everything I possess is due to my exceptional talent and wisdom. My mentor, Drek'Thar, spent thirty years perfecting Shaman magic, while I learned it in just three days, surpassing my mentor."
Orgrim looked at Thrall with surprise, a confident and proud junior with a strong physique and Shaman magic, and close ties to the Burning Legion.
This child has a limitless future.
Orgrim sensed the threat, but didn't show it, and said with relief:
"Very good. If Durotan knew he had such an excellent son as you, his soul would surely find peace. By the way, do you have a way to summon the Ancestral Spirit?"
Thrall calmly replied, "It only requires a simple spell, but I don't want to disturb the peace of our ancestors."
Orgrim secretly breathed a sigh of relief, "Then let's get down to business. You want to rescue the Orcs in the Internment Camp? That's not difficult, but how do you plan to settle them?"
"I will conquer Lordaeron, devour all humans, and turn this place into our Orcs land." Thrall displayed his ambition without reservation.
Orgrim scoffed, "Thrall, you're a clever man, but unfortunately you don't understand the Orcs. If you actually succeed, you'll only lead to Orcs destruction."
Thrall asked, puzzled, "I see that the Frostwolf Clan is living very well."
Orgrim shouted, "That's because they are few in number and rely on vast, dense forests, possessing ample resources. How do you think the Orcs of Draenor live?"
Thrall scratched his head. "Herding, hunting?"
Orgrim sneered, "That's just a side job. We mainly rely on plunder and war."
Seeing Thrall's puzzled expression, Orgrim's grey eyes flashed with a ferocious light:
"Draenor World is home to many inferior races, such as the Podling, the Fungal Sporelings, and the Lost Arakkoa. They multiply rapidly and establish villages. We Orcs survive by plundering them, burning their houses, turning their villages into ruins, and turning their corpses into Tough Jerky or other things. However, there are no such races in Azeroth. Humans, Dwarves, Elves —it would be a terrible cost to wage war against them, and the gains would not outweigh the losses."
"So that's what you're worried about." Thrall chuckled. "What I need is endless war, ceaseless killing and plunder, until the world is destroyed."
Orgrim shook his head. "You're taking war too lightly. You're dragging us into a quagmire of war, our population will dwindle, and we might eventually become extinct."
Thrall pointed to himself and said, "Don't you know who I am? You don't need to worry about manpower; I have a way to ensure a continuous supply of Orcs. Before that, we must rescue the Orcs from the Internment Camps and prove my abilities to the Burning Legion."
Orgrim muttered to himself, sensing something amiss in Thrall's overwhelming confidence:
"Since you're so confident, let's focus our efforts on Durnholde for now."
Orgrim produced a rough map of the Hillsbrad Foothills and pointed to the location of Durnholde, saying:
"Look, this is a fortified Castle, imprisoning tens of thousands of Orcs. The human Guards are armored and armed, well-trained, and Blackmoore is Veteran of the Second War. Although he's an alcoholic, he's experienced and has many battle-hardened generals under his command. We have nothing, and we're outnumbered."
Thrall waved his hand and said, "As long as we storm the Internment Camp and release our compatriots, we can easily raze Durnholde to the ground."
"You're oversimplifying things." Orgrim shook his head. "My reputation is great enough, but there are many Orcs Clans, and not all of them will listen to me. Besides, entering the impregnable Durnholde is inherently impossible; even Uther's Silver Hand failed."
Thrall fell silent, realizing he had to rethink the plan.
"If we had a map of Durnholde's defenses, perhaps we could look for any weaknesses," Orgrim remarked, seemingly unintentionally.
A human woman appeared in Thrall's mind, and he said with a quick glance, "That's not difficult. I know a woman named Taretha who works for Blackmoore."
Orgrim asked, "You're letting a human woman betray her own kind?"
Thrall laughed, "She's a Peace Dove."
Since her brother Falarin was eaten by Thrall, Taretha has been under immense pressure. People around her gossip about her, Blackmoore no longer trusts her as much.
To protect her reputation, Taretha had to lie and say that Falarin had died of illness.
However, this did not alleviate the fear of gossip, and Taretha had already planned to leave Durnholde and start a new life in Lordaeron.
Upon receiving Thrall's invitation, Taretha did not hesitate; her belief in the Peace Dove made her willing to meet the Orcs.
Inside a cave, Taretha saw Thrall and dozens of Orcs with equally ferocious faces, but did not recognize the Orcs before her as the thin and weak Aiguleiya.
"You don't need to think, just answer the questions," Thrall said seriously.
Taretha looked puzzled, Thrall suddenly raised his hand and slapped her across the face, her frail body falling heavily to the ground.
Thrall grabbed Taretha's hair and brought her face close to the campfire. "If you don't want this face to turn into raw flesh, you'd better answer my questions."
Taretha was terrified; her mind went completely blank.
Everyone says that Orcs are kind and benevolent, but they first ate her brother and then tortured her.
The idea that "being eaten by Orcs is an honor" was long forgotten by Taretha; only endless fear remained.
"I need the defense map of Durnholde, you know what to do," Thrall continued to threaten.
Driven by a survival instinct, Taretha recounted everything she knew in detail, and a Mastery Orcs drew up a defensive map.
"What is this for?"
Orgrim pointed to a wide Passageway and asked.