In Durnholde Asylum, the orcs' residences are endless, as far as the eye can see.
Blackmoore led several Doves of Peace to stand on the high wall. A terrible stench came out, and dozens of young Doves of Peace almost fainted.
"Protest, it's dirty and messy, why don't you clean it up? This is abuse of the orcs." Sir Chris was filled with indignation.
Blackmoore said slowly: "The orcs have long been used to it. They don't care. Do you know how many guards there are in Durnholde? If we help these orcs clean up, we don't have to do anything."
Sir Chris waved his fist angrily: "Orcs are the greatest race in Azeroth, humans are just lowly trash, you are so incompetent, I want to suggest to King Varian, liberate the orcs here, you executioners
Let them all die."
Blackmoore understood. It turned out that the Dove of Peace had come up with a new way to use Stormwind City to fight against Durnholde. He smiled and said: "If Stormwind City wants these orcs, I am willing to give them to them with both hands."
Sir Chris said coldly: "I will do what I say, you are finished, Blackmore."
"If Varian wants to make Stormwind City the country of the orcs, I don't mind." Blackmoore said lightly sarcastically.
Sir Chris had long been brainwashed by the Dove of Peace, and he didn’t know where he got the news from, so he shouted angrily:
"This is exactly King Varian's wish. Humans are only worthy of being food for the orcs. Only great orcs are worthy of Stormwind City. Let me tell you, Stormwind City was built for the orcs."
"Then let's start with you."
A guard pushed hard and Sir Chris fell from the high wall.
Before it even touched the ground, he was caught by a group of orcs waiting under the city wall. The orcs were so crowded that they stretched out their arms to grab Sir Chris.
Sir Chris was so frightened that his scalp was numb, and he burst into tears and wailed: "Help me."
Blackmoore shrugged, looked at the other Doves of Peace who turned pale with fright, and said, "Orcs like to eat alive. You are lucky to see a good show."
The fun was actually very short-lived. Sir Chris was devoured by the orcs in an instant, with no bones left.
The orcs below were still unfinished and raised their heads one after another, looking longingly at the dove of peace above.
"If you stick to your beliefs, just be like him." Blackmore looked at the group of young people with a smile.
After a long silence, a young woman raised her fist angrily:
"Brothers and sisters of the Dove of Peace, our elders have long told us that being eaten by orcs is an honor." After saying that, he pointed at Blackmore: "Are we going to let this executioner look down on us? It's time to show our true courage.
This is a test of our firm belief. For the sake of Azeroth, who is willing to be the first to jump?"
The young woman was farthest from the wall and shouted the loudest slogans.
Blackmore waved his hand, and the guards grabbed the woman and prepared to throw her to the orc shelter.
The young woman was so frightened that she screamed loudly: "Ah ah ah! No, I don't want to die, please help me."
"Would you like to change your mind?" Blackmore asked.
"Orcs are great and kind, they are the saviors of Azeroth..." the woman said in a panic.
"How stubborn!" This woman was also thrown into the shelter and disappeared in an instant.
"If anyone wants to change their mind, it's still late." Blackmore said with a smile: "I have always wanted to change the views of the Dove of Peace, but unfortunately I have never succeeded. I appreciate your courage."
One man hesitated and said: "The dove of peace is not wrong. The orcs are the saviors of Azeroth. They will definitely save the world. We, the dove of peace, have an important mission and are determined to fight and bleed for the orcs."
, the sacrifice cannot be in vain here."
"You can go down too." Blackmoore called to the guard.
The man's face changed instantly, and he begged: "No, I don't want to die, please, I want to live for the orcs."
Blackmoore was a little tired: "Since none of you have changed your mind, then follow the rules and fulfill your glory of being eaten by the orcs."
The members of the Dove of Peace have been trained to be scared to death, but they refuse to give up their faith.
After executing the Dove of Peace, the female adjutant worried: "These young people are either rich or noble, and Stormwind City may not let it go."
Blackmore said indifferently: "Leaving them alone is the most terrifying thing."
A sense of helpless frustration came to his heart, and Blackmore asked in confusion: "Why are these doves of peace not even afraid of death?"
The female adjutant whispered: "It's not entirely their fault. Medivh invented a special kind of magic to forcefully instill ideas into these poor people."
Blackmore frowned: "Isn't there a solution?"
The female adjutant shook her head: "I heard that there is magic that can erase it, but it's a pity that the mark is already on their minds."
Blackmoore sighed deeply: "It would be great if we could use this kind of magic to deal with orcs."
After returning to the castle, Blackmore unexpectedly received a gift.
It is said to have been sent by a merchant from Kalimdor. The exquisite box is lined with fine velvet cloth and lies an exquisite crystal wine glass.
Blackmoore looked at it carefully and exclaimed: "This is a relic of the upper elf. It has a history of ten thousand years. This gift is too heavy. What do the guests want?"
The female adjutant said: "The guest wants to see Sal."
"Thall?" Blackmoore scratched his head, thought for a while, clapped his hands and said, "I understand, Thrall is a slave among the orcs. This guest is very interesting. Orc slaves are not worthy of such a heavy gift."
, they want to see my gladiators."
The female adjutant bowed and said, "I'll make arrangements immediately."
The slim female adjutant led the way, followed by Robbie and Crassus.
"The treatment of gladiators is different from that of ordinary orcs. They are qualified to live in the basement of the castle."
The female adjutant introduced as she walked:
"Chief Blackmore hires professionals to train gladiators. They are all good candidates. They are guaranteed to win the competition. As long as the price is right, everything is negotiable."
Crassus emphasized: "We are only interested in Thrall."
"Sal, okay." The female adjutant seemed to understand.
The spacious basement is heavily guarded, with more than thirty orcs imprisoned in iron cages.
"There are thirty-three Thralls in total, and they are all here." said the female adjutant.
Krasus and Robbie looked at the ferocious-looking orcs in the cage suspiciously, and Robbie asked: "You said they are all Thrall?"
"Yes, they are all orc slaves." Worried that the two guests would not understand, the female adjutant patiently explained:
"Gladiator training is full of accidents. No one can guarantee that a certain orc will become an excellent gladiator. Injuries, self-abasement, accidents in training, and cannibalism may all cost them their lives. Chief Blackmoore chose
Of the hundred strongest orcs, only these thirty-three are left after training, and they are all the best gladiators."
Krasus explained: "We are going to meet an orc named Thrall, a gladiator champion."
The female adjutant raised her eyebrows and said displeasedly: "Thall means slave. No orc would call him this name."
"It seems that the legend is true." Robbie whispered: "Thall comes from Karazhan and was raised by Medivh, not Durnholde."