"Orgrim, are you injured?"
After discovering this, Sal immediately became alert.
"Relax, kid, don't be surprised."
Only now did Orgrim realize how much energy and physical energy the previous brief but fierce battle had consumed him.
So he sat down on the ground and still felt uncomfortable, so he simply got down.
"Hold on! I'll carry you back!!!"
Thrall slid to Orgrim's side and tried to pull him up, but Orgrim held his wrist.
The night was too dark, and Thrall didn't notice that Orgrimmar looked at him like he was an idiot.
"Stop talking, hang in there, you'll get better."
Thrall began to tear at the hem of his clothes, trying to wrap Orgrim's wounds.
In fact, Orgrim's injury was far less serious than it seemed.
As a warchief who has survived more than ten years of fighting, Orgrim is very familiar with the strategy of exchanging injuries for injuries.
Although the shoulders and neck are the vital points of humanoid creatures, it does not mean that they are untouchable.
This knife seemed to bleed a lot, but in fact it was because the wound was too long. Orgrim was very sure that he had avoided the vital point. He even felt that he had stabbed Spartacus with his backhand at the liver and kidneys of Spartacus with the tail of his spear. The damage caused by a friend is far greater than the knife suffered by oneself.
Orgrim suddenly wanted to laugh, so he laughed, and then touched the wound.
"Hold on, you will be saved."
Thrall was so focused on dressing Orgrim's wounds that he didn't even notice Orgrim's disdain as a veteran.
But slowly, slowly, Orgrim stopped smiling contemptuously.
This kid is so annoying.
What's his name?
Sal?
Bah, slave means.
Let me think about it, let me think about it carefully, Durotan seemed to show off to me back then...
"Gu'ir, I'm fine."
Orgrim didn't know the proverb - when you start to remember the joys of the past, you are already old.
"I will save you, I will do what I say, I..."
Orgrim pushed Thrall to the ground impatiently.
"I've said enough! I'm fine."
Orgrim jumped up with a movement similar to that of a carp, and then a bloody arrow shot out from the wound.
…
"Are you really okay?"
Thrall asked uncertainly.
"I'm sure! Your father is not as mother-in-law as you."
Orgrim said nonchalantly.
"Who hurt you?"
When this key issue was mentioned, Sal became serious.
"Someone who can help us."
"Humanity?"
"Orcs."
"Um?!"
Although they have the support of the Frostwolf clan, relying on hundreds of orcs to attack Durnholde Castle is simply courting death.
This is why Drek'Thar asked Orgrim to follow Thrall.
Passionate, sincere and infectious.
Young, strong, and extremely capable in combat.
But Thrall was still just a young orc.
Apart from his enthusiasm, Thrall didn't know how to command an army. The best way he could think of was to rush me.
So Drek'Thar persuaded Orgrim to go with Thrall with kindness and benefits.
Contrary to what Spartacus imagined, the Frostwolf clan did not hate Orgrim.
The truth about Durotan's murder that year was not a secret to the tribe's senior officials and the Frostwolf clan itself.
Not only is Orgrim not an enemy of the Frostwolf clan, he is actually kind.
When the tribe was at its strongest, Orgrim once sent a messenger asking the Frostwolf clan to return to the tribe, but Drek'Thar refused.
Thinking of the damage Gul'dan and Blackhand had done to the Frostwolf clan, Orgrim did not force Drek'Thar to surrender.
That's why Orgrim was able to take refuge after the complete defeat of the tribe, and finally lived in seclusion in the Alterac Valley.
Are you willing?
Not willing to give in.
Hate?
Not really.
In that fanatical atmosphere, the warchief named Orgrim didn't have many choices.
Maybe they could do better, but under the hatred forged by the mountains of corpses and the sea of blood, there is no possibility for the Alliance and the Horde to stop.
Either you die or I die.
It's just that the orcs lost.
It’s not just Spartacus who reflects on the past, but also Orgrim.
He once thought he had given up.
But apparently not.
The Frostwolf Clan, whose survival could be determined by one word, has now become the last force of the orcs.
Although Orgrim didn't know how Gromsh Hellscream and his Warsong clan were doing, the warchief obviously did not regard Red Blackhand as one of his own.
Orgrim thought he was calm, but it was obvious that his blood was not yet cold.
What he saw and heard along the way and the tragic fate of the orc captives deeply hurt Orgrim's heart.
So he understands Spartacus' hatred for him.
"Relying on us, relying on the few hundred people of the Frostwolf clan, is not enough, Go'el. I went to Durnholde Castle back then... I forgot that you grew up there. Well, how big is that castle? It’s strong, you know better than me how many people there are in the garrison.”
"Yes, there are more than five thousand people inside the city walls alone. So what should we do?"
"Starting from the periphery, we need to attack the smaller detention centers, attack the scattered human strongholds, collect weapons and equipment, rescue more compatriots and arm them, and finally Durnholde."
"I have similar thoughts, but... won't this lead to human retaliation and encirclement and suppression?"
One of the most important things Thrall learned from humans was reason and thinking.
The Alliance will not sit idly by. Attacking Durnholde may seem like hitting a stone with an egg, but it is actually the plan with the highest success rate.
There is no need to contribute to Durnholde Castle, which is where human officers and nobles live, and is a strong fortress where weapons and supplies are stored. But the orcs do not live in the castle. As long as they break through the city wall and create chaos, they can rescue a lot of orcs, many more than the entire Frostwolf clan.
If we can awaken the fighting spirit of these orcs and arm them, then there is hope for everything.
On the contrary, the seemingly smooth raids will only attract more attention from the alliance.
But Orgrim was right. With the strength of the Frostwolf clan alone, there was almost no chance of success in attacking Durnholde.
The number of troops was too small. Even if the city's guards dispersed their troops, there would still be enough troops to deal with the surprise attack planned by Thrall and the others.
This is bad.
Drek'Thar did not tell Thrall about Orgrim's true identity, but Thrall knew that Orgrim was once his father's friend and a veteran warrior who had been on the battlefield.
Although Orgrim often sneered at Thrall, this uncle who would call him Go'ir was the comfort of Thrall's soul.
I am not an orphan...
So overtly or covertly, Thrall didn't care about Orgrim's struggle for power.
But it was this character that made Orgrim hesitant.
Who doesn't like a good boy?
"So we need help from my old friend."
Orgrim can command the tribe, so he will naturally not lack political wisdom.
"That old friend who slashed you?"
Thrall couldn't understand.
"Yes, his appearance itself illustrates some problems."
Orgrim touched his bare chin.
