Guardian Medivh is Thrall's biggest backer and the benefactor who has enabled Thrall to achieve his current achievements and status.
Now Thrall is in a state of being slaughtered by others, but Medivh did not show up in time.
Thrall was full of confidence in Medivh. Whether it was the guardian's invincible strength or his love for Thrall, he had no doubt at all.
Unfortunately, the Guardian's habit is to take action at the most critical moment. Before that, Thrall will inevitably suffer some torture and humiliation, just like the last time he faced the Holy Light Orcs.
In Medivh's opinion, a savior who grew up in a greenhouse would be unable to shoulder a heavy responsibility. He hoped that Thrall, the savior, could have enough experiences and learn to deal with difficult problems on his own to increase his experience and abilities.
What Barthilas showed was a power even more terrifying than that of the Holy Light Orcs.
Thrall hoped that Barthilas didn't understand this rule, otherwise he would suffer.
Unfortunately, life is unsatisfactory nine times out of ten, and things in the world are always contrary to one's wishes.
"Someone told me before that Guardian Medivh will only take action when the life of the savior Thrall is critical. I don't know if it is true. I think it is necessary to test it."
Barcellas showed a serious attitude.
"It's over."
Thrall secretly complained. At this desperate moment, Thrall, who understood the situation clearly, had to make up his mind.
He wants to fight back.
Not because of Thrall's courage, but because of his trust in Medivh.
Being defeated is inevitable, and since he won't die anyway, Medivh will definitely appear in time, which is better than being humiliated.
He must try his best to fight back and risk his life to let Medivh see his courage and force Medivh to show up.
"go to hell!"
Sal roared in a low voice without any momentum.
Barcellas, who was so close, didn't even hear clearly.
Thrall's body expanded violently, and flames came out of his mouth and nose.
.......
Rugged mountain roads and narrow winding trails led Fording to cautiously approach Hearth Valley.
In fact, Fordring was in custody, and his old friend Dathrohan secretly released him.
"Uther doesn't dare to do anything to me, and neither does Thrall. My body must be left to the Dread Lord."
Dathrohan smiled bitterly, his expression was painful, desperate and helpless, and patted Fording on the shoulder:
"Let's go, Fording. I only ask you one thing. You must tell future generations the crimes committed by the orcs and the betrayal of our Silver Hand. You must let the tragedy of Lordaeron**
*."
"Azeroth must learn today's lesson. Compromise with the orcs will only bring destruction to us. Only in this way will the people of Lordaeron not sacrifice in vain and our sacrifices will be valuable."
"In the name of the Holy Light, I swear." Fording nodded solemnly.
Unfortunately, in the years to come, Fording, who had been deeply influenced by the orcs, failed to fulfill his promise.
And history never learns to draw lessons.
The creatures of Azeroth paid a heavy price for this.
After that, the trolls who became the accomplices of the orcs had to betray their gods again and again, and watched helplessly as the essence of the respected gods was extracted, and the treasures of the gods were plundered, and they had to clap and applaud from the sidelines.
The tauren, who were reduced to the orcs' weaponry materials and mobile rations, had to give their people to the orcs continuously, and their skins and bones were stripped and turned into war equipment and rations. They had to shout "for the tribe."
The blood elves who became the source of the orcs' spellcasting materials, the goblins who became the condiments in the orcs' food, the fat and thin pandaren who were the most delicious, and the forgotten ones who were the accomplices of the tiger, all told the bitter tears with their own lives.
In comparison, the tragedy of Theramore was nothing at all.
According to Fording's expectations, although Barthras was very strong, it was not so strong as to be unparalleled.
He had thought that Hearthglen would inevitably be slaughtered.
Relying on his familiarity with Hearthglen, Fording took as small a path as possible and made a large circle before arriving at the back hill of the castle, looking in the direction of the castle through the gaps in the dense forest.
He was observing carefully and trying his luck at the same time, hoping to have a chance to rescue his wife and children.
He just happened to see Thrall, whose body had grown larger, spitting out blazing evil energy.
This is the power of the Burning Legion.
Thrall, who was covered in green and exuding green flames, looked down at the earth with a slanting aura. Fording had seen it in some ancient illustrations. This thing should be called hellfire, a kind of fire that brought to the world.
An unknown creature of destruction.
Thrall's hellfire transformation, a gift given by the Burning Legion to transform Thrall's body.
"Thall actually controls this kind of power." Fording showed a look of horror, and then thought about how strong Barthras was who could force Thrall to such a point? Where does his power come from?
Come?
"Is this the truth about how you save the world?"
Barthilas smiled and shook his head. While Fording was dumbfounded, Barthilas suddenly jumped up high and struck an earth-shattering blow. The powerful power of the Holy Light turned into a giant sword that lifted up the sky and struck at the monster.
Thrall as Hellfire.
There was a roar.
Thrall's green body fell down, and the evil flames were extinguished. His body quickly recovered and fell to the ground, wailing for mercy.
Thrall miscalculated. His power was too weak, and he was too weak to fight desperately, unable to force Medivh to show up.
"Such a powerful power of holy light."
Fording squinted his eyes, his ambition growing, and whispered to himself: "It would be great if I could master this kind of power."
From this moment on, his wife and children were no longer so important in his heart.
"I won't kill you, really, at least not today."
Barthras looked at Thrall and smiled as innocently as a child.
"Your body is even bigger than Eitrigg. With this weight and big muscles, you can last for many days!"
Barthilas smiled, and his right hand was like a blade, brushing across Thrall's skin, cutting off pieces of flesh.
Thrall let out a piercing howl that echoed in Hearthglen.
Sal was equally unprepared when it came to being eaten.
"The Savior's meat tastes really different, especially after being roasted by evil energy. The taste is even more different. There is a slightly burnt taste in the sweet aroma!"
Barcellas swallowed in small mouths, as if tasting the best delicacy in the world, and nodded with satisfaction.
Thrall howled so hard that his voice became hoarse and he could only let out painful whines.
Barthras hung Thrall and Eitrigg together, and he took out two bottles of red wine from under the scaffolding. This was a fine wine that the Fordring family had collected for many years, and the orc Eitrigg ruined it until there were only a few bottles left.
He poured himself a glass of wine and turned around to see that the remaining two hundred orcs had fled without a trace.
Even the wise and great savior Thrall, the most noble chieftain, is still as powerless as a baby in front of the terrifying Barthilas. Ordinary orc warriors have long been frightened out of their wits.
Only Uther remained where he was, seeming to be hesitating about something.
Barthilas was a little surprised as to why Uther didn't escape.
This is not like Uther's character.
"Someone told me that Uther is best at escaping on the battlefield. Well, you might call it a righteous retreat. After two orc wars, Uther, the light bringer, has not been injured once. His escaping skills are amazing.
, that’s weird, are you a fake? Now I’m a little suspicious.”
Uther was unmoved.
At this moment, he was concentrating on listening carefully to Naaru's whispers. (To be continued)