In Tirisfal Glades, on the former lands of the Barov family, stands a medium-sized Orcs internment camp.
By this time, it was already broad daylight. The two had eaten some magical bread and hunted two rabbits in the wild. After roasting them, they carried them with them. Looking at the Orcs internment camp in the distance, Arthas frowned.
How do we get in?
"It's very simple, just walk in."
Robbie smiled mysteriously and handed Arthas an ornament:
"Epic Orb of Deception, a wondrous magical artifact that allows you to remain a ferocious Orcs all day long."
"Such a thing actually exists?"
Arthas was surprised and curious. He had no idea how many strange and practical gadgets future adventurers would invent for survival.
Robbie took out the Orcs disguise he had prepared, carefully put it on, and glanced at Arthas, who had transformed into Orcs with sharp fangs and a ferocious face. Finding no flaws, he nodded and gave him a word of advice:
"Now remember this: I am Leonardo Brutalaxe. You can give yourself a name."
"Then I'll call myself Broxigar, the Axe of Tyranny," Arthas said casually.
Robbie:
"What's wrong with you?" Arthas, puzzled.
"It's a nice name." Robbie's expression was somewhat strange.
Arthas didn't think much of it, just kept walking and muttering to himself:
"The Orb of Deception is a good thing; have the craftsmen make more of it in the future."
With the Internment Camp in sight, Robbie shook his fist and said seriously, "Remember, Orcs worship the strong, especially the shameless strong. Ignore all rules. If anyone questions us, no explanation is needed. Let your fists and fangs do the talking."
The Orcs internment camp was very rudimentary, with a low wooden fence that was practically nonexistent. Even a human child could easily scale it, let alone a strong Orcs.
Deafening roars echoed from the camp, suggesting a fierce battle was taking place.
"Halt! Who are you?" the Orcs guards at the gate shouted.
"We are the Axe of Tyranny brothers. I am the elder brother Leonardo Brutalaxe, and this is my younger brother, Broxigar the Axe of Tyranny. After the war, we brothers lived in the wilderness until we heard that the Savior Thrall was a wise leader, so we came to seek refuge with him."
Robbie shouted as he peered through the gaps in the fence.
Inside the camp, large groups of Orcs were training. They were strong, powerful, and imposing, their roars shaking the heavens. It was conservatively estimated that there were at least a thousand Orcs in this camp.
"This is the camp of the great chieftain of Orgrimmar Doomhammer, but welcome, two brave Warriors. We have ample provisions and urgently need reinforcements," the guard said in a deep voice.
Orgrimmar Doomhammer? Robbie felt a sense of doubt.
According to the Guardians ' historical records, Orgrimmar died in the nineteenth year of the Dark Portal during a rescue operation for Orcs internment camp. Now it is the twentieth year of the Dark Portal, so how is he still alive?
Moreover, so many Orcs are gathered right under the nose of the Lordaeron City in Tirisfal Glades.
Robbie sensed the approaching war.
Arthas followed discreetly behind Robbie. Compared to the fledgling Prince, Robbie was a seasoned adventurer with extensive knowledge and was not intimidated at all. Arthas, on the other hand, was somewhat hesitant and unable to relax.
The camp had a set system. The two first registered and received their recruit number tags. Orcs arranged their lodgings and pointed out the location of the mess hall, saying that they could be incorporated into the ranks once the Orgrimmar chieftain returned.
Robbie, unwilling to stay in the makeshift tent, took Arthas and strolled around the camp with an air of nonchalance.
"Recruit, back in your tents!" shouted the patrolling Orcs guard.
Robbie chuckled coldly and easily knocked down a squad of guards.
After this was repeated several times, no Orcs dared to mention the camp rules to the two.
"Hit them harder, hit them hard! Haven't you eaten enough?"
The two groups of Orcs engaged in fierce hand-to-hand combat, each punch landing with brutal force, employing every means at their disposal, almost to the death. The instructors on the sidelines held leather whips, and whenever Orcs was knocked to the ground, the instructors would rush forward and lash him until he got up.
"Remember, humans are lowly creatures, unworthy to possess vast lands. They can only be our slaves or our military rations. Slaughter all humans, slaughter all living beings. Azeroth belongs to us Orcs."
The young Orcs struggled to carry logs, running in circles around the camp. The Orcs Cult, with a fierce face, held a leather whip, whipping the Orcs lagged behind while shouting instructions.
A thin Orcs fell behind and collapsed to the ground. The instructor rushed over and brought his whip down viciously until the Orcs patrol carried the body away.
Further in, a group of Orcs children were undergoing training. Their opponents included jackals, vicious dogs, and other ferocious beasts, as well as their own people. The weak were mercilessly eliminated, becoming pitiful corpses.
What Arthas saw and heard in the camp left him speechless, and Robbie was also shocked.
Orcs practice strict Spartan-style management, which explains their formidable fighting prowess.
"How long have you been training like this?" Robbie asked, pulling one of the patrolmen aside.
The guard, bruised and battered, was terrified of Robbie's punches and obediently replied, "We've been training like this ever since Chieftain Doomhammer liberated the camp."
According to Warcraft lore, seven years after the Dark Portal, Orgrim Doomhammer from Undercity, the royal underground district of Lordaeron. If that's the case, his training there has been going on for over a decade.
Arthas was utterly astonished; he had no idea that an Orcs army was right near the capital.
Knock knock!
Suddenly, strange drumbeats echoed through the camp.
"Quick, quick, get into the crypt and hide! Don't make a sound!" the Orcs guards shouted.
All the Orcs Warriors stopped training and orderly made their way to the hidden burrows in the Orcs Camp.
Robbie was confused and bewildered. A guard explained, "New recruit, the mages of Dalaran have arrived. We must be prepared to welcome them."
Following the Orcs into the cave, Robbie peered out through the crack in the door.
Before long, a squad of human guards were released, nervously donned their gear, and stood guard at their posts with serious and earnest expressions.
There were skinny Orcs had been prepared beforehand, wrapped in simple blankets, lying listlessly on the ground, pretending to be weak.
The female Orcs also came out, carrying Orcs baby, wandering aimlessly around the camp, looking pitiful and miserable, like a little bird that had been caged for too long and had lost all hope of freedom, making people feel sorry for her.
Although he had temporarily transformed into Orcs, Arthas's face was deathly pale.
"This is exactly what Jaina and I saw when we were kids, exactly the same."
Before long, the Orcs camp opened, and a young blonde woman entered. She was a mage, her beautiful eyes shining with wisdom, followed by two Mage Apprentices.
A tall Orcs led the way, like a moving wall, shouting as he went:
"The Orcs are still very weak and desperately need meat to replenish their strength. King Terenas's granaries are almost moldy, yet he refuses to give any to us Orcs. We Orcs need peace, true peace, which must be put into practice, not just spoken words."
The blonde human woman nodded, her face full of sympathy.
"I've traversed the Orcs internment camps throughout Lordaeron, but the Orcs problem remains unresolved. King Terenas has disappointed me greatly, making me doubt his sincerity. I will report everything I've seen to my teacher; I only trust my own eyes, and no one can deceive me. The Orcs problem must be taken seriously."
"That's Thrall," Robbie said, pointing to the tall Orcs.
"That's Lady Jaina Proudmoore." Arthas a strange smile.