What happened next was a logical one, and after Tyran agreed to ask the Forsaken for help in disguise, everyone began to refine and add details to his proposed plan.

Before you know it, it's getting late, and the hall is getting dark. Several attendants entered the hall and lit torches stuck in iron hoops on the walls.

"Alright, that's it, I'll write a reply to Sal," Tirio said tiredly, rubbing his face, as he looked at Diego, "You'll write the letter to Sylvanas, you're sure she'll send someone, right?" ”

"Yes, I'm sure I'll persuade Sylvanas to send out her men, it's not been a day or two since she's been hungry for revenge against the Scourge Legion, and this is a rare opportunity for her. The Forsaken can send at least one legion, and there are enough men. Diego said confidently. And he also had full confidence in himself and his companions, and in his opinion, this group of brave adventurers was worth half a legion.

Diego didn't know how Tirio's letter to Sal was worded, but he wasn't good at diplomatic vocabulary himself, so his letter to Sylvanas was entirely vernacular, telling the truth. He writes about their experiences over this period like a ledger, starting with their entry into the Western Plaguelands and the destruction of the Cauldron of Plague, to the battle of Gerorn's farm, the encounter with Silver Dawn, to the infiltration of the Valley of the Hearth, and the successive battles with Ethanlien. He did not shy away from analyzing the current situation in the Western Plaguelands, and confided in Silver Dawn's plans, and finally earnestly asked the Forsaken for help.

When he finally put down the quill pen in his hand, Diego couldn't help but laugh when he found that the parchment he had used was seventeen inches long, and almost as thick as the handle of a spear when rolled. He rubbed his eyes, picked up the candlestick, sealed the paper roll with hot wax drops, and finally sealed his own ring.

Nazir? Bloodspear left early the next morning, carrying a letter to Thrall and Sylvanas, and his companions had sent him all the way to the avenue that traversed Lordaeron. He walked reluctantly, annoyed that he would miss the upcoming Battle of Andorhar, but his sense of urgency to complete the mission assigned by the High Chief overrode his belligerence.

"May the moonlight shine on your path, far traveler!" Masrae chanted softly, and he gently threw a handful of maple seeds at the orcs, the cicada-winged petals floating in the air, blessing him with the wildness of nature. This spell slightly strengthens the Travelers' physique and helps them adapt to the wild environment, and is a common spell used by druids when parting with their friends who have traveled far away.

"Guys, I'll be back soon, and hopefully I'll be able to get a fight or two." The orc grinned gratefully at the Night Elf, then straddled. The back of the wolf with sharp teeth.

"Do you think that when you come back with a large army, we will let you sit idle all day with nothing to do?" Diego said with a smile as he raised his hand and slapped his sharp tooth on the ass hard. Share.

Sharp Tooth jerked forward, glaring back at the hunter in dissatisfaction. But it didn't stop, but took a step and ran into the distance.

Although the Cauldron of Plague has been destroyed, and the sky of the Western Plague is gradually becoming clearer, at a glance, both sides of the road are still desolate. Sharp teeth carried the orcs and quickly disappeared into the wilderness.

"It's time for us to go back, there's so much to do in the Fireplace Valley right now, maybe we can help too." Watching the orc's back disappear, Diego said with a little depression.

In fact, if in order to express his sincerity for help, Diego had better go to the Undercity in person, but for some reason, Diego didn't want to see Sylvanas again in his heart, and he even had a trace of fear in his heart for this unfathomable woman. While Sylvanas' desire for revenge on the Lich King is in line with Silver Dawn in this regard, everything about her is unsettling, and it's hard to trust an ally that people can trust completely, after all, the worldview of the living and the dead is almost worldly different, and they no longer care about their own lives, and of course, the lives of others, even allies. Perhaps Tyran was right, keeping a certain distance from the Forsaken was the right choice.

In the warm sunlight they cross. Get on your mount and head back in the direction of the Valley of the Hearth.

Diego spent half a month in a difficult wait—he had to ask the scouts a few times a day about what was going on in the Tirisfa Forest—until one day in late September, at noon, a small group of scouts galloped through the gates of the city. Their horses were covered in sweat and foaming at the corners of their mouths.

"The Forsaken, the Forsaken have entered the Western Plaguelands!" The sergeant leading the team was led directly to the council hall by the guards, and he shouted loudly with a gasp.

Everyone stood up at once. Everyone was beaming, and Diego felt much more relaxed, asking for help from the Forsaken was his plan, and if Sylvanas refused to send reinforcements, he didn't know where his face would go.

"Drink first, sergeant." Tirio slowly stood up from behind the long table covered with maps, and said softly.

The sergeant gratefully took the wooden cup handed over by the attendant next to him and took a small sip. This is an experienced veteran, and he knows that he can't gulp water after a rush, lest he choke on his lungs.

"Slowly, are the Forsaken's reinforcements coming?"

"Yes, my lord, they have arrived at Firestone Farm, and according to the plan, Captain Orin has arranged for them to be stationed there!" The sergeant replied loudly.

"How many of them are there?" Tyran said from the side.

"Three legions, my lord!" The sergeant replied.

His words startled everyone, and no one could have imagined that the Forsaken's support would be so powerful, far beyond their most pessimistic expectations. Diego, in particular, was all too familiar with the forces of the Undercity: at the beginning of the rebellion, Sylvanas had only one legion in his hands, and after the elimination of Varymasas, the rebels subdued almost two more legions, plus the almost crippled legion led by the banshees, the Undercity now has a total of only four legions. Now, the Dark Lady has sent almost half of her troops!

"Are you sure?" Tyran said in disbelief, to be honest, this was really a big "surprise", he was really surprised! Almost the first reaction, a strong sense of crisis involuntarily surged into his heart - there are too many forsaken people, once something happens, it is really between elbows and armpits, and Fireplace Valley doesn't even have time to react! What are these living dead going to do? Anti-customer-oriented?

"Yes, my lord," the sergeant confirmed, "that's what I want to say, there are so many of them that Firestone's Farm can't hold so many people, and Captain Orin wants me to ask if it's possible to arrange for some of them to reach Darsson Farm?" ”

"Uh......, well, of course!" A skeptical Tyran subconsciously replied that he was still speculating about the true purpose of the Forsaken.

"Now, let's go and greet our passionate allies!" Tirio? Unable to seem aware of this, Ferding picked up his helmet resting on the shelf next to him and strode out.