Big Candle Gagg, an ordinary-looking Kobold, is a famous playwright in Azeroth, who has created countless popular works that have spread throughout the taverns of Azeroth through the mouths of Bards.
Having been summoned by Sylvanas, Big Candle Gagg thought it was a golden opportunity to rise to prominence and rushed to Undercity with great enthusiasm. However, he waited in the reception room for seven days and seven nights without getting a sip of water. Exhausted, hungry, and sleepy, he thought he was going to die of thirst there.
Fortunately, the Kobolds had immense patience. They waited patiently for Sylvanas to appear. Gagg, disoriented and dazed, heard the Dark Lady ask:
What do you think of Thrall, the Savior?
In his delirious state, Gagg lost his usual vigilance and blurted out:
"Thrall is a big liar. He promised me 100,000 gold coins to write 100 poems praising his savior of Azeroth. With my help, his fame has spread throughout Azeroth, but I haven't seen a single gold coin."
Sylvanas nodded in satisfaction. "I need a playwright like you."
Next, Sylvanas arranged food and lodging for Gagg, but the food was extremely poor and the portions were small.
Hungry and exhausted, Gagg was fast asleep on his bed when he was woken up. He was so sleepy that his eyelids were drooping. Gargoyle grabbed him by the feet and flew him to the foot of a small hill.
In a daze, Gagg saw Sylvanas fire an arrow, and a figure in black armor fell to the ground with a thud, then limped away.
"That was Arthas, and I have defeated him," Sylvanas said proudly.
"Arthas?"
At this moment, Gagg was in a daze, trying hard to remember who Arthas was. It seemed to be a very familiar name.
Sylvanas warned sternly, "You must help me create a thousand songs to praise my greatness and celebrate the dignity of the Forsaken. Of course, I will not pay you anything."
Gagg finally couldn't bear it any longer and fell into a deep sleep. In the instant he closed his eyes, he saw three enormous monsters with curved demonic horns on their heads, ugly faces, and bat-like wings on their backs, blocking Sylvanas's path.
Varimathras sized up the Banshee before him and proclaimed, "I am Varimathras, the Dreadlord, a lowly Forsaken, who submits to the Burning Legion."
"A mere Dreadlord dares to challenge the leader of the Forsaken." Sylvanas drew her bow and released an arrow; the black arrow flew towards the Dreadlord like a meteor.
Varimathras chuckled, snapped his fingers, and Sylvanas's longbow and arrows turned to ashes. Then, serpentine shadows enveloped her, rendering her immobile. Sylvanas was terrified.
"You lowly dark Banshee, your life level is far too low for ours; your power is insignificant," Varimathras said viciously.
"Wait," Balnazzar protested from the side, "That's not our plan."
Varimathras glared and roared:
"Don't you understand? Only those who surpass us in power are qualified to negotiate with us. This dark Banshee is so weak; I will turn her into a puppet to control the Forsaken."
The Dreadlord Detheroc spoke in a hoarse, unpleasant voice. "Varimathras, we must carry out the Deceiver's orders; we should not cause any further trouble."
Varimathras grabbed Sylvanas by the throat and sneered, "I'll kill this dark Banshee now, and what can the Deceiver do to me?"
"It's over."
Sylvanas was utterly despondent, powerless against the Dreadlord's dark magic. Her mind raced; she had to find a way to survive as quickly as possible. With no hope in her eyes, she whispered:
"The Elune will not let you get away with this."
"What, Elune?"
Varimathras gazed at the sky, fear evident in his eyes. Seeing this, Sylvanas quickly said:
"I serve Elune, which is why I have the confidence to leave the Scourge. Even Arthas doesn't dare offend me, and you little bats dare to challenge the Moon Goddess's dignity?"
Varimathras, observing her expression, realized the truth of her words and immediately released Sylvanas, adopting a fawning demeanor.
"Haha, Your Majesty the Dark Lady, it was just a joke. We are here on Lord Kil'jaeden's orders to make a deal with the Forsaken."
Sylvanas proudly raised her head. "I have no intention of negotiating with a lowly Dreadlord. Let Kil'jaeden speak to me personally."
Although she appeared confident, Sylvanas was actually quite insecure. The thoughts of Elune, were unpredictable, and she had no idea whether she would offer her protection.
Varimathras chuckled:
"Your Majesty, this negotiation is beneficial to both of us; it's a win-win cooperation. Believe me, the Dreadlord is merely Kil'jaeden's mouthpiece."
Sylvanas knew she had to make appropriate concessions, so she reluctantly agreed.
In the drawing room of Undercity, Sylvanas sat on her throne, her long, beautiful legs crossed high. "Whatever your demands, there is only one prerequisite for cooperation: I need a flawless Fel Body. If you cannot meet my requirements, then there is no point in discussing anything further."
Varimathras chuckled, "In the Burning Legion, a Fel Body is nothing special; it's just that the time isn't right yet. Once you possess Fel power, your Power of Death will be difficult to advance further, and you happen to be in a phase of rapid power growth. It won't be too late to forge Fel Body after you've gained a deeper understanding of Power of Death."
Sylvanas found some of the truth in what she heard. Elune, who called herself the Dark Side of the Moon, had taught her a great deal about the Power of Death, and Sylvanas's strength was constantly improving.
The Dreadlord Detheroc added, "Your Majesty, beauty and ugliness are relative. Those who possess the greatest strength naturally find you the most beautiful. I saw a magazine published by Goblin that listed the most beautiful women in Azeroth; the top 100,000 were all female Orcs."
Sylvanas was slightly moved upon hearing this. After the Battle of Mount Hyjal, the Orcs' reputation as Saviors was at its zenith, deeply influencing the aesthetics of Azeroth. Female Orcs had become the standard of beauty in Azeroth, and even King Varian dreamed of marrying a female Orcs as his queen.
"What does this have to do with my Fel Body?" Sylvanas asked.
Balnazzar explained:
"Your Majesty, the Orcs are so powerful because they have the help of our Legion. Azeroth belongs to the Orcs, but ultimately it belongs to the Forsaken. As the war expands, more and more races are drawn into it. Death will only make the Forsaken stronger, and one day, the Forsaken will cover the entire land. At that time, the Forsaken will become the most beautiful race in Azeroth, and the stench will become the most popular smell."
Balnazzar painted a rosy picture of the future, deeply moving Sylvanas. Varimathras immediately added, "Of course, all of this is contingent on cooperation with our Legion. The Burning Legion will help the Forsaken forge soul Vessels to absorb the souls of the fallen."
Sylvanas pondered quietly for a while, "Then what about the Scourge? I can't compete with Arthas for the souls of the fallen."
Varimathras stood up and announced loudly, "Your Majesty, our cooperation this time is precisely for the purpose of destroying the Scourge."