Grom Hellscream, chieftain of the Warsong Clan, was Thrall tormented like a dog, but in truth, he was deeply afraid of.
If Grommash Hellscream and his son were to join forces, the Orcs would likely have no place left for Thrall.
Thrall would never release Grom; the consequences would be unimaginable. In terms of seniority and reputation, Thrall could not stand on equal footing with the great Warsong Clan Chieftain, and the Orcs were the most concerned with seniority.
"Vol'jin!" Thrall's eyes widened. "I hope you have a good idea!"
To regain Thrall's trust, Vol'jin was desperate. He quickly put on a fawning expression and whispered, "Great Savior, the Burning Legion needs us to ally with the Night Elves so they can interfere. If we want to gain the Night Elves ' trust, someone must be sacrificed. Grom Hellscream, who is more suitable than him?"
Thrall narrowed his eyes, pondered for a moment, and nodded. "Indeed, we tore apart Fandral Staghelm's son, ate him, and paid with a chieftain's life. That's perfectly fair, interesting."
Seeing that Thrall trusted him more, Vol'jin immediately moved closer to Thrall and began to explain the upcoming plan. Thrall nodded repeatedly as he listened. Vol'jin was his most important strategist, Thrall Vol'jin truly uneasy without him.
Vol'jin lived up to expectations and regained Thrall's trust. He recalled his secret agreement with Garrosh and Doras, those moments still vivid in his mind.
"These days, I've been spending a lot of time with you. Thrall has become very cunning and will surely suspect me. If you want to regain his trust, you'll have to pay a price." Vol'jin looked at Garrosh cautiously. "I have a good plan, but it requires sacrificing your father, Grom Hellscream."
"Damn it, I can't agree to that!" Garrosh slammed his fist on the table and roared, "My father suffered countless hardships and was tortured by Thrall. I finally managed to rescue him, and now I'm supposed to kill him?"
"Garrosh, those who aspire to greatness must first learn to relinquish family ties." Vol'jin's expression was extremely solemn. "Orcs only worship the strong. The way your father was treated, like Thrall's, will make all Orcs despise you, causing you to lose face and become a stumbling block on your path to becoming Warchief."
Garrosh slammed his fist on the table, shattering it, his eyes wide with fury. "Enough! I'd rather not be the chieftain and go back to Nagrand to farm than harm my father!"
Seeing that he couldn't persuade Garrosh, Vol'jin could only wink at Doras beside him.
Doras knew perfectly well what Garrosh was thinking. In fact, Grommash Hellscream and his father had been separated for a long time and didn't have much affection for each other. Garrosh's actions were nothing more than a performance.
After all, Vol'jin was an outsider, and there were certain things he couldn't say due to his status. But Doras didn't hold back. She stroked Garrosh's shoulder and slowly said:
"My warrior, the struggle for chieftainship has never involved fathers or sons; this is Orcs tradition. Kilrogg Deadeye killed his own father to become chieftain of the Bloodmaul Clan. Your father was a true hero, revered and loved by his people. If he were alive, what right would you have to be Warchief?"
Garrosh gasped upon hearing this. Which was more important: father and son, or the position of chieftain?
"You have nowhere to go, my warrior." Doras revealed a vicious expression:
"Power is a supreme delicacy; if you don't have it, it will tear you to pieces. Believe me, even if you and your father join forces to defeat Thrall, you will still be torn to pieces and eaten alive by your own father, simply because you pose a threat to the chieftain's position."
Garrosh's face showed fear; his goal was to become the Warchief, not to be eaten by his father.
Grom Hellscream, the Warsong Clan Commander, never lacked female Orcs, and he was perfectly healthy.
But he only had one son, which is chilling to think about.
"While your father is still of use, let him die," Doras said coldly.
Garrosh remained silent for a long time before finally nodding in agreement.
With the fall of Rag City and the loss of this protective barrier, disaster struck the Scarlet Lands.
The Tauren, Troggs, Centaurs, and Quilboar who lived here were all slaughtered. The few bases that humans had built on the coast were also destroyed by the Horde without warning.
In the process of slaughtering the inhabitants of the Scarlet Lands, Chen Stormstout led the charge, becoming a loyal lackey of the Orcs. His Chi became a whirlwind of death, a nightmare for the people of the Scarlet Lands.
Before long, the entire Scarlet Lands was slaughtered, and hundreds of thousands of lives met their end.
Thrall named the land after his father, renaming it Durotar, and with the help of Legion Engineers, built a magnificent war fortress, Orgrimmar.
With this formidable fortress, the Orcs continued to expand, the Barrens and Ashenvale became Orcs targets.
Darnassus.
Fandral Staghelm sat slumped on the Great Beast, the slumbering place of the Druids. Before him lay the head of Valstann Fandral Staghelm, and the Scrying Gem that tore at his heart.
His only son, Valstann, was dead, torn to pieces by dozens of Orcs.
The Night Elf Sentinels were killed by the Orcs; only the Druid forces escaped.
Although Tyrande immediately tried to suppress the news, the terrible news still spread throughout the Night Elf race. In Darnassus and Mount Hyjal, the Night Elf race' fury for revenge burned fiercely.
However, Tyrande and Malfurion did not comment.
The walls of the Great Den were covered with lush vines, green leaves, and beautiful flowers—a manifestation of the leaked power of the Emerald Dream, as the sleeping Druids unconsciously channeled the power of nature into the real world.
Fandral Staghelm placed his right hand on the vines, communicating with the Druids slumbering in the Emerald Dream.
" In the War of the Shifting Sands a thousand years ago, our Fandral Staghelm family Consecration everything. Almost all of our clansmen perished, leaving only my son and me to depend on each other. Now, my son has been killed by Thrall. This is blatant betrayal, not just a hatred of my Fandral Staghelm family, but a provocation against the entire Night Elf race."
A violent tremor resounded within the Emerald Dream. Fandral Staghelm's inner hatred affected all the slumbering Druids; Druid sensed the seeds of hatred, and the flames of vengeance were brewing within them.
In the Temple of the Moon, Tyrande coldly monitored Fandral Staghelm's actions through a magical mirror.
Behind Tyrande was the Moon Goddess Emissary, disguised as Orcs.
"Tyrande, you must stop Fandral Staghelm's madness. His foolish revenge will drag the entire Night Elf race into the Abyss. As the acting leader of the Druids, he has acted so unwisely. He has disappointed me greatly."
"Your Emissary, this is not Fandral Staghelm's fault. Thrall went too far," Tyrande argued.
The Emissary paused slightly, then explained:
"You should understand, the Orcs are indeed barbaric, but only by uniting with Orcs can we restrain Burning Legion and utilize their power to fight against the Scourge."
"I understand the logic, but who can extinguish Fandral Staghelm's rage?" Tyrande shrugged, indicating her helplessness.
"How can you expect me to explain this to the people? Are you suggesting that we Night Elves are inherently inferior, just like the Pandaren, and only fit to be the Orcs' rations?"
The Emissary remained silent for a long while before saying, "Very well, there is one who can persuade Fandral Staghelm, the Demigod Cenarius. The Moon Goddess has restored his physical body; it's time for him to serve the Moon Goddess."