Starting from World of Warcraft, the wind swept the world

"My opinion is to make peace with them." Nairgo spoke amazingly.

"Peace?" Gromash pointed in the direction of the Hanging Mallet Fort, "The city is here, as long as we launch an attack they will be completely destroyed, now you and I say to negotiate peace?" But

in the end, Gromash still chose to listen to Nelgo's reason, the orc shaman has fulfilled almost everything he has said in the past (except for the grand plan called the Horde).

And his father also died in the battle with the ogre, saying that Nairgo has compassion for the ogre, don't talk about him, even if anyone comes, he will not believe it.

"Fort Hanging Mallet is a big city with a long history." Nairgo said: "The city is fortified and has a large population, and if we attack strongly, I have no doubt that we will conquer him, but how many people will die?" That's too costly, and there's a lot of uncertainty.

"Orcs are not afraid of death." Gromash was a little hard-mouthed, but he had already admitted this fact in his heart, if those ogres in the Hanging Hammer Fort were all powerful, then what could they do even if they conquered them?

The inheritance of the lawbreaker cannot be obtained, the city is destroyed, and many people have to die, which is not pure and pure loss trading.

He is reckless, but not stupid.

In front of this kind of wall, even a few thousand ogres are enough to frustrate the orcs' army of 10,000.

Just like Constantinople in the Middle Ages, 200,000 Ottoman troops surrounded Constantinople to face less than 8,000 mercenaries and volunteers.

The Ottoman side even used artillery and other killing weapons and naval blockade, but what was the result?

I couldn't attack for a long time, and I almost overturned!

Not to mention that the current orcs did not have the same suppression of the Hanging Castle as the Ottomans did to Eastern Rome.

"I know that the young men of the clan are all good, and they are worthy of the name of their ancestors." Nairgo smiled and said, "But wouldn't it be better if you could persuade them?" "

Will they surrender?" Gromash doubted this.

"It depends on what kind of people their rulers are." Nairgo said: "If he is the kind of monarch with a tough personality, then it will be difficult for them to surrender, but-"

"If he is really tough, why not the castle?"

"That's right." Gromash nodded, "Ogres are soft eggs.

"That's right, they are weak, this is also our opportunity, I want to go to their royal court in person to see if his ruler is fighting or surrendering."

Nairgo has some expectations, what will this once glorious city look like? Is it with the same disgusting smell of decay as their nobility, or as old and heavy as history.

"You?"

Gromash shook his head, somewhat dissatisfied with Nelgo's words.

"How can you let you go, what can be done by sending a random messenger?"

This reckless!

Gromash frowned, and regardless of Nairgo's opinion, he picked up the piece of meat and stuffed it into his mouth, blocking what Nelgo wanted to say.

"Now your task is to enjoy the joy of victory."

..................

The gate of the Hanging Hammer Fort slowly opened.

An orc messenger without armor climbed the stone steps half the height of his body at each level.

Unkind eyes.

Fearful gaze.

Disgust, hatred.

The Messenger enjoyed the feeling, and the incompetent fury of these ogres filled the Messenger with ridicule at them.

"That's no more than the Hanging Hammer Castle."

He walked up the elevator with an arrogant face, not at all worried about the ogres watching him around him taking up their spears and stabbing him to death.

Although they seem to have been unable to bear it.

"It's okay just the house."

He smacked his lips, and these stone houses looked good.

Stepping out of the elevator, which was a small hill, the guard guiding him forward, not knowing whose order he was humiliating the orc messenger, actually brought this messenger to a slave enclosure.

The air was filled with stench and dust, and there were no houses to live in, only sheds for the orc slaves.

There, emaciated slaves lined up in order to carry out a lot of work on the leather whip of the ogre overseer, each of which carried whip marks on his body.

The numb orcs looked at the messenger with incredulity in their eyes.

This orc is also a slave? No, he's dressed much better.

"This is the end of your kindred." A group of silk-robed ogres were staring at the messenger.

The fattest and tallest, the most ornate of them, and the most ornately dressed, looked like their head, and spoke.

"The Lord of Witchcraft sent me to hear from your chief." He said.

Even at this point, the ogre was still arrogant, "You still have five minutes, if you don't satisfy me, then you will become one of them."

"You are?" The messenger looked up and down, can this fat man be the master?

"I represent the king of witchcraft, just call me Councillor."

This is his proudest identity, and being able to enter the Fuhrer's parliament means that he is an ogre who surpasses 99% of ogres.

Of course, in Malgauk's eyes, this 99% is likely to be the degree of stupidity.

This does not mean how unique they are, but it just means that they are also one of the best among the nobility.

"You're not qualified." The messenger snorted coldly, "The order that the king told me is to meet your chieftain.

"It's not all smelly fish and rotten shrimp."

The appearance of the messenger not putting the ogre in his eyes greatly annoyed them, but what could they do, the messenger looked disdainful, he already knew his fate, how to be arrogant, how to die.

In short, it is to let those ogres know that the times have changed, and now it is the world of orcs, and your so-called nobility is worthless.

It doesn't matter if he dies, just to inspire the rest of the orcs.

In short, he can step on the hanging mallet castle, which can be described as dead without regrets.

"You—" The Ogre Councillor leaned forward and bent down, as if he was about to fall down on the mountain that weighed on him.

"Aren't you afraid to become a slave?"

The messenger opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly stopped again, and the ogre laughed, he thought that the orc had succumbed to his threat, but the messenger only thought of a better answer.

He scanned every ogre around him, then looked at the toiling orc slaves in the slave enclosure.

"How long have you been enslaved? How long have your families been precarious? He said, "But it doesn't matter, at the latest a week, there will be no orcs enslaved here." Hell Roaring Chief has not forgotten you, do not be confused, take up your shovels and mines..." When

he tried to incite the slaves to riot, the councillor stopped him in time.

"Good luck boy." He made a calm face, "The Lord of Witchcraft promised to summon you." "