Soon, word of Working's adoption of seven adopted sons spread throughout Orgrimmar, and quickly spread to other areas controlled by the tribe.

"It is said that none of Woking's seven adopted sons remained in Orgrimmar, what is the situation? Did you go back to Senjin Village? ”

"Can't you see that? Orgrimmar is the main city of the tribe, and although it is nominally dominated by orcs and trolls, the trolls are actually based in the southern part of Durotar. ”

"The big chieftain of the tribe is an orc, and the Kukaron elite guard is basically an orc, which is very telling."

Although Woking adopted seven battlefield orphans in the Alterac Mountains, they did leave Orgray, which led to some bizarre speculations among many tribesmen.

In the corner of Orgrimmar's inn, Gamore still sat in his place all day long, motionless unless the proprietress asked him to entertain guests.

"Master Garmor, the Queen wants to know what's new lately."

In the shadows behind Gamor, a voice came softly, but the minotaur didn't seem to hear it, and didn't react at all.

"Master Garmor, you don't have to respond to me, just put the news where it belongs, and I'll go first!"

The voice came softly again, and coincidentally he was able to come every time when the guests of the inn were drinking loudly, and the timing was so perfect that no one but Garmor could hear it.

Gammor glanced behind him slightly out of the corner of his eye, and quickly returned to his usual state.

"Gamor, bring these breads and beers to the table at the door, there is no room for the newly assembled troop hotels."

The innkeeper placed a large plate on the table in front of Gamor, and then turned to get busy.

Gamore picked up the plate in both hands and walked slowly to the door of the hotel, ready to deliver bread and beer to the guests outside.

"This guy is at ease, relying on half of his minotaur blood to eat and drink in Orgrimmar, doing nothing every day!"

"That's it, Bai Chang is such a big man, that is, the proprietress takes him in pity for him, otherwise he would have starved to death!"

The inhabitants of Orgrimmar know Gamor and his origins, a poignant love story of a minotaur warrior and a Night Elf huntress that ended with the opposition between the Horde and the Alliance.

In the story, Garmore was still an adult when he came to Orgrimmar, and the innkeeper used to be a comrade-in-arms with his father, so he took him in.

This version of Gamore's life story has been disseminated and processed by the inhabitants of Orgrimmar, and the original version is no longer known to many people, but this final version is a household name.

Of course, all of this was invented by Queen Sylvanas in order to allow Gammor to succeed in hiding in Orgrimmar.

Although the Minotaurs and Night Elves are both native races of Azeroth, the only frequent contact between the two is the pursuit of the Druid Way, and the only communication between warriors and hunters is combat!

Gamor brought the plate to the makeshift table at the door of the inn, and then found a place to sit on the stone beside it, a leaf in his hand.

The melodious sound of the leaf flute sounded, and Gammor often blew the leaves alone like this, and he didn't know what he was thinking!

In the clearing next to Orgrimmar's gates sat a dozen Forsaken merchants from the Undercity, who often poured herbs, furs, ores, and other materials from the eastern continent into Orgrimmar to trade.

One of the caravan drivers was sitting by the car resting at this time, and the cigarette pouch in his hand was shaking with the sound of Gamore's playing, which was very rhythmic.

"Captain, we can't stay too long so we don't get discovered."

The merchant next to the coachman leaned on the large blanket and whispered to the coachman as he watched his men carry the goods.

"Don't worry, Gammour's transmission of information has never been discovered, I will record the music he played, and go back to decipher it, soon!"

The coachman smoked leisurely as he continued to mark the cigarette pouch with the small feathers hidden in his hand, a series of numerical symbols corresponding to the tune played by Gamor.

"Then I'll go and close the deal quickly, and we'll leave when you're done."

After the merchant finished speaking, he got up lazily, walked to his men who were loading and unloading the truck, and pointed and commanded.

Gamore played for a moment, then suddenly stopped, looked at the roof of the bank hall in the middle of the Valley of Power, and then got up and returned to the hotel.

"Hey! Minotaur, why don't you keep blowing, I'm listening to it! ”

A drunken orc recruit shouted loudly, raised his glass and swung at the minotaur as he motioned for Gammor to continue playing.

Gammor ignored him, and instead walked straight into the hotel, returning to the seat he had been sitting in all day.

The orc recruits were a little disappointed, and got up to go to the hotel to find Gamore's bad luck, but fortunately they were pulled back by the veteran next to him.

The orc recruit still wanted to get up, but found that his shoulders were pressed down and he couldn't move at all, and he finally gave up after looking at the veteran's eyes.

"Let's go! Something is wrong! ”

The Forsaken coachman put away his cigarette belongings, walked behind the merchant, and whispered a command.

"Quick! We're going to set off with these bundles, and we're going to catch the airship, or we'll be delayed back to the Undercity for delivery. ”

The merchant suddenly reprimanded his men in a loud voice, motioning for them to pack up their goods as soon as possible and prepare to leave Orgrimmar.

The Forsaken caravan quickly departed Orgrimmar and came to a halt in the open space outside the city by the tower of Durontar.

"The nearest airship should be two hours away, shall we wait here?"

The Forsaken merchant leaned into the coachman and asked, and it was clear that the coachman was the leader of the group, and he was a hidden master of disguise.

"Don't wait, make it look like you're sorting out the goods, it's better to have some other movements, such as poor goods or price problems."

The coachman tidied up the rented Kodomon and slowly removed the bracket and reins, after all, it was safer to have a few fewer Kodommon on the airship.

"Hey! You, just let you sort out the goods, why is there a bag of herbs missing, hurry up and go back to find me. ”

The merchant immediately shouted at his men, who were also smart, nodded in apology, and two or three of them ran back towards Orgrimmar.

"This time the information is a bit unusual, I roughly deciphered it, it is about Woking's adoption of battlefield orphans, it seems that the leader of the tribe is going to train a successor."

The coachman finished his work, looked at the cigarette pouch, intentionally or unconsciously, and then turned to the Forsaken merchant and muttered a few words.