"Thank you!"

Tirio took the dried fruit and stuffed it into his nostrils, and sure enough, the stench disappeared and was replaced by a fruity scent.

"Well, go meet our guests!" After making sure everyone was using this simple and practical air purifier, Tirio spoke loudly.

Out of politeness, they dismounted a few dozen yards away from the forsaken who met them.

"Norman, the messenger of the Forsaken, salutes you, Sir Fordin, to your justice and glory!" The Forsaken at the head saluted Tirio. It was a living dead man with blue skin, parts of his body rotting and joints exposed, his lips and most of his chin completely rotten, exposing the jagged gums inside, but luckily he could move them up and down constantly, making hoarse noises.

Diego noticed that old Norman seemed to wink at him, and he quickly bowed his head slightly.

"Kudos to you, too, for your support of the Silver Dawn, and for your arrival," Tirio replied, looking around, "If there's anything you need, just say it, Silver Dawn doesn't skimp on allies." ”

"Nothing, we've got enough supplies with us when we set out," Old Norman turned sideways and motioned for the group to come with him, and they walked in the direction of the farmhouse, which had been set up as a makeshift command post for the Forsaken, "The only problem is: it's a bit cramped, and it would be nice if there were more places to station." ”.

"We'll set up other camps as soon as possible, actually, our guys are cleaning up Darsun Farm, I'm sure you'll get a new camp soon, and you can get some of them there." Tirio quickly explained.

They walked through the densely packed tents of the Forsaken, surrounded by ragged living dead. Sylvanas had obviously not had time to arm each of her soldiers tightly, they were wearing all kinds of strange and rusty armor, from cloth armor and leather armor to chain mail and plate armor, and many of the soldiers' armor was simply put together, they probably wore a dwarven black iron horned helmet on their heads, and a furry sheepskin waistcoat on their bodies, but the lower half of their bodies were wearing short cloth robes in the style of elves, and Lordaeron chain mail riding boots on their feet.

"We've brought three new legions with us, hoping to meet your demands, and truth be told, every Forsaken is eager to take revenge on the culprits who led them to what they are now. Allowing the Scourge to run rampant in the lands of Lordaeron was nothing short of torture for them. Old Norman said as he walked.

"Trust me, we think exactly the same thing about the Scourge Legion!" Tirio couldn't have agreed more, and he replied loudly. He watched with satisfaction at the Forsaken soldiers crowding the farm, and the strange undead creatures that were unlike any other caught most of his attention.

A group of translucent banshees floated back and forth in midair, looking like shepherds, flying over the Forsaken who didn't know what they were supposed to do when they got away and drove them back to where they were going with a piercing scream.

The most conspicuous of the camp are the three or four metre tall Abominations, clumsy and slow-moving stitching monsters made of corpses, but they are particularly fond of wandering around the camp, often trampling the roadside tent and its occupants into a mess of flesh if he is not careful. The hot weather sped up the decay of the cobbled together internal organs in their bodies, and from time to time there were gases from the putrefaction produced by them. A sneering eruption erupted from the opening in his abdomen, and a deadly green mist erupted in the air.

Unlike the camps of other races, there is never a campfire in the Forsaken's camp. They don't need it for warmth, nor do they use it to heat food, in fact, the Forsaken rarely eat food, their thirst for flesh and blood is only because it helps to repair their corrupt bodies and keep them alive. Along the way, Diego saw a number of Forsaken Ones nibbling on minced meat, bones, and other unrecognizable pieces of sewerage, and some of them were smearing jars of pus-green necromantic rot on their bodies, a unique preservative that was an excellent infiltrating material for the Forsaken, effectively preventing their bodies from becoming dry and brittle.

On the northern edge of the camp are rows of large meat grinders. The machine, with its steel spikes and giant scythes, served the same purpose as a catapult, but it threw shattered corpses, and in many cases the terror and plague of this evil munition were more threatening than the damage they inflicted on direct hits—and on more than one occasion in battles with the living, the terrifying attacks of such horrific attacks had caused weak-willed foes to collapse without a fight. This time, however, perhaps considering that they were dealing with the Scourge Legion, the Forsaken prepared more polished stone bullets and spiky iron thornballs. This detail made the humans who were watching around nod their heads secretly, somewhat relieved.

It is very dangerous for a single horse to walk through the Forsaken, because it is a great test for their bloodthirsty desires, and you can't expect much self-control left of these living dead who have died once. Many of the Forsaken watched the humans passing through the camp with their eyes shining, letting saliva trickle down their lips, not hiding their thirst for fresh flesh and blood. The frightened Silver Dawn quickened their pace, and soon came to the dilapidated two-story farmhouse in the middle of the farm.

"Remember to remind me to issue an order when I get back: no human soldier is allowed to enter the Forsaken camp alone for any reason!" Tyran wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and whispered to Arton.

They did not stop in front of the farmhouse, but went straight into it.

As a former innkeeper, Norman knows a thing or two about how to make his accommodation more comfortable. The hall on the first floor of the farmhouse has been cleaned, the broken windows have been repaired, and the dust and cobwebs have long since disappeared. The chandelier on the roof had been lit to illuminate the room—it was clear that the Forgotten with dark vision had taken care of the needs of their allies. On either side of a spotlessly clean table, twenty pine chairs are neatly arranged, waiting to be used.

Old Norman and Tirio? Ferding sat at opposite ends of the long table, while the attachés on either side lined up on either side. It is worth mentioning that the dutiful Arton did not sit at the table, he stood cautiously outside the door, not only to see everything that was happening in the hall at any time, but also to quickly give orders to the guards in the distance. Opposite him is a Forsaken soldier with the same purpose as him, and it is clear that trust is not built all of a sudden, it takes a long time to get along with him, and it takes time to test it.

"I can't remember how long it's been since I've sat in my bright living room and chatted with my friends." Old Norman leaned his entire back against the back of his chair and sighed contentedly.

"You can stay here for as long as you want." Tirio replied. At the beginning of the Scourge War, the Felsstone family had all died of the plague, and the farm had become borderland. In the lands of the Kingdom of Lordaeron, there are simply too many such farms.

"No, this kind of cozy place only adds to my sadness," said old Norman sadly, sad that the good life of the past is long gone, and that there is no longer to be found, "In fact, I also had my own home when I was alive, which was in the town of Cowling in the east, a cozy little inn with just over ten rooms. ”

"Wow, you're that Norman?" Captain Olin exclaimed in surprise, "Before the outbreak of the war, I used to stay at your inn, and the boiled salmon in your store tasted amazing, and I have to go to your store every time I pass by Cowling. ”

"It's my pleasure that our sunscale salmon are all shipped from Lake Daron Mill, and they are all very fresh......," said old Norman proudly, he was also very happy that it had been so long, and that there were still people who remembered him and his inn, but his mood quickly became depressed, "It's a pity that Lake Daron Mill is now completely polluted, and all the fish in the lake are dead......

"Not only Lake Dalongmere, but also the town of Korin has long been destroyed, and now the ruins are called Korin Crossing, where many Scourge soldiers are entrenched, and every time we go to the Chapel of the Wish of Light, we have to take a long detour." Tirio said solemnly. The Cowling Junction is a three-way junction from the West Plaguelands to the Hand of Tyre to the east and Stratholme to the north, and is geographically important, as Silver Dawn has attacked several times to retake it, but has been unsuccessful.

"Oh, that's a pity, I don't remember anything since I was hacked to death by a scourge soldier, and when I woke up again, I found myself standing on top of the ruins of Lordaeron, surrounded by many living dead men with the same blank faces as I did......" Old Norman said sadly, not only him, but also the other Forsaken officers. To tell the truth, these forgotten people more or less have memories of their lives, whether they are alive or dead, no matter where they are, the nostalgia for their hometown is always indelible.

"Damn the Scourge Legion, it's time to break their bones, cut off their right hands, and drive them out of the land!" Orin cursed resentfully. His words were echoed by everyone, both the living and the dead, and many people slapped the table and shouted.

"It's time to make them pay!"

"It starts with Andorhar!"

People excited. There was a lot of emotion, a lot of talk, and the hall was in a mess, and Tirio knocked on the table a few times before he could quiet down again and sit back in his chair.

"We're going to do it all, and if we can work closely and work together, we'll be able to achieve this victory, there's no doubt about it," Tirio exclaimed, cheering everyone on the table with enthusiasm, "and what we're going to do is get ready, fight this battle beautifully, and drive the Scourge out of the Western Plague Lands once and for all!" ”