The Fel Pool has only one function: healing.
No matter how severe the injury, as long as the head is intact, it can be healed by soaking in the Fel Pool.
The prerequisite is that the body does not reject Fel. For a period of time, Thrall drank Blood of Mannoroth like water, and his body had an excellent affinity with Fel.
Thrall realized what was happening, his face filled with terror, and he pleaded:
"Chen Stormstout, we can talk. I admit I wronged you before, and I'm willing to make amends. I have a treasure vault in Pandaria, enough to buy ten Orgrimmar."
Chen Fengge sneered, "Thrall, I'm tired of your treasure trove. Guards!"
Several strong Orcs came over, tied ropes around Thrall's shoulders, and then lowered him down the city wall.
Below were countless Kobolds, their heads tilted back, revealing sharp teeth and dripping yellow saliva.
"No, no, please spare me!"
Thrall cried out and begged for mercy.
As his body was brought to the city walls, the Kobolds swarmed forward, tearing at Thrall's legs with all their might.
Thrall screamed and howled in agony, each cry piercingly painful, while Chen Stormstout felt waves of pleasure surge through his heart.
After Thrall's chest was devoured, Khadgar cast a spell to freeze the Kobold that was biting Thrall.
Several Orcs pulled Thrall up and threw him into the Fel Pool to recover.
After repeating this three times, Thrall's Fel energy was almost completely depleted, and he collapsed weakly to the ground, his spirit nearly broken.
Chen Stormstout, squatted on the ground and patted his face, saying:
"Thrall, you look so cute when you're wailing and begging for mercy. Tell me, how do you deal with these damned Kobolds?"
Thrall was weak and powerless, his mind blank, unable to conjure any cunning thoughts, only wanting to get out of his predicament as soon as possible.
"Speak quickly," Chen Stormstout snapped, "Orgrimmar has enough Fel to sustain you being eaten by Kobolds for a year."
"Orgrimmar won't last a year, at most three months, Kobolds will be able to conquer Orgrimmar," Thrall said weakly.
Chen Stormstout and Khadgar stared at each other. In their view, the Kobolds had no weapons and could not build siege equipment; they had no advantage other than their numbers.
If the Kobolds can't conquer Orgrimmar, are they going to try and tear down the walls with their claws?
"Have you noticed that the Kobolds are more Order than they were a few days ago?" Thrall asked weakly.
Khadgar quickly glanced at the Kobolds surrounding Orgrimmar and gasped slightly.
Compared to the chaotic and disorganized state of the first day, the Kobolds were noticeably different, now gathered in large groups.
Thrall gasped weakly.
"The creatures of Azeroth have one thing in common: they must choose a king to oppress them, bully them, whip them, make them starve and freeze, toil and sweat every day, and die a miserable death. Otherwise, they will not be comfortable. The Kobolds are currently in a state of war among multiple kings. If a Kobold king achieves unification, it will be the time when Orgrimmar falls."
Khadgar nodded in agreement, "As expected of the Horde's Warchief, you have a broad vision. Do you have a solution?"
Thrall didn't even have the strength to open his eyes. "To cultivate a king among the Kobolds, control him with magic, ensure his loyalty, and help him unify the Kobolds, after which these Kobolds will be at the Warchief's command. This process is extremely difficult; one wrong step and it will be utterly disastrous."
Chen Stormstout, laughed heartily, "Thrall, you're truly something else. I'm no match for you. I'll control you, and you can control these Kobolds, how about it?"
Thrall paused, then said, "Okay, but you have to do as I say."
"Of course, you're an expert in this field," Chen Stormstout readily agreed.
"What we can think of, our opponents can also think of, so we must choose an outsider, not one of the kings among these Kobolds."
Thrall said seriously, "In Azeroth, the most famous Kobold is Big Candle Gagg. I once wanted to use him as a medicinal ingredient, but he escaped. That guy's lies are more convincing than the truth; he'd be perfect as the king of the Kobolds."
The Crossroads.
Aserok stood atop the highest watchtower, watching the Kobolds surge in like a tide, a heavy feeling welled up inside him.
A few days ago, a few Kobolds came to the Crossroads, and the Orcs, who hadn't seen meat for days, roared and rushed out.
Although the Kobold's flesh was tough, dry, and had a foul odor, it was still flesh.
The Orcs soldiers, having tasted meat, were delighted and hoped to encounter even more Kobolds.
Aserok sensed something was wrong and inquired with Orgrimmar, only to be told it was a minor incident and nothing to worry about.
When Thrall was Warchief, Aserok was the trainer at the Crossroads.
Countless soldiers were trained under his command and sent to the Battlefield, but the vast majority never returned.
Having served under many chieftains, and now holding the highest command at the Crossroads, Aserok was incredibly experienced and immediately dispatched scouts to investigate.
Only then did they realize that Durotar was swarming with Kobolds, Orgrimmar was completely besieged.
What good would knowing do? Aserok was powerless to change anything.
Chen Stormstout's orders to him were to hold the Crossroads to the last man.
"You've disappointed me so much, go to hell!"
The former commander of the Crossroads disobeyed Garrosh's orders and was beheaded by Garrosh himself, who then threw his head into the furnace to burn to ashes.
This scene haunted Aserok's mind like a persistent nightmare.
Being the head of the Crossroads is a tough job.
You must deal with Quilboars, Centaurs, wild beasts of the plains, mediate conflicts with Tauren, be wary of passing caravans and adventurers, and the Alliance.
The number of soldiers assigned was small, inevitably leading to a shortage of manpower, and there was no extra reward.
The sons of noble families in Orgrimmar looked down on the position, and after much deliberation, only the Veteran Aserok could be appointed as the highest-ranking officer.
The Kobolds stretched as far as the eye could see, very Order, surrounding the Crossroads without attacking, seemingly waiting for something.
Not long after, a Wyvern landed at the Crossroads, and a Goblin jumped down.
Aserok examined the Wyvern's feet and determined that it hadn't flown far, originating from Ratchet.
The Goblin: "I come on behalf of Lord Illidan. Lord Illidan entrusted me with ensuring the safety of the Crossroads."
"Then what is the price?" Aserok asked, neither humble nor arrogant.
The Goblin smiled slightly:
"Lord Illidan knows your loyalty to the Horde and will not make things difficult for you. He only needs to establish a Flight Point at the Crossroads and a tent for travelers to rest."
If the Crossroads could be saved, this condition was nothing; the soldiers around him all looked at their commander.
Aserok shook his head. "I won't agree, absolutely not."
The Goblin paused for a moment, then asked in surprise, "Do you know what you're about to face? There are hundreds of thousands of Kobolds here. If they attack, how will you resist?"
The defenses at the Crossroads are nothing compared to those of Orgrimmar; they consist of only a wooden fence.
There were not many soldiers, about a thousand, and even including their families, there were less than two thousand.
"You cannot shake my loyalty to the Horde," Aserok said firmly.
The Goblin sneered, "Your Warchief isn't Orcs, he's just a lowly Pandaren."
"Shut up!"
Aserok roared, "The Crossroads would rather be wiped out than grant your unreasonable demands!"