Orgrim put his palm on Red's shoulder and emphasized his tone:

"I need you to take your clan and grab enough war supplies for the tribe while we attract alliance soldiers...so that we can hold on until reinforcements arrive! Can you do it? Chief Blackhand!"

This name silenced everyone in the chief's hall for a moment. The tribe led by Blackhand Blackhand was in a complete mess, but no one could deny that without Blackhand's almost stubborn insistence, the scattered orcs would not have been able to conquer the world.

The dead Draenor formed a Horde and came to Azeroth.

Blackhand was terrible as a warchief, but no one can erase his achievements.

And hearing Orgrim call him "Chief Blackhand", Red's heart was shaken for a moment. He looked at the brown-skinned orc chief in front of him, and he suddenly felt that maybe his father was in Orgrim.

The defeat in hand is not without reason.

But the next moment, his heart hardened again. He promised his father that he would reorganize the orthodox tribe, and he could not be swayed just because of Orgrim's words.

The most important thing is that he himself is the young chief of the Blackstone clan, and Orgrim just gave him what he deserved.

But having said that, in this fanatical atmosphere, Reid couldn't say no at all. He beat his chest hard with his left hand:

"Lok-tar ogar!"

"very good!"

Orgrim raised his head with satisfaction, and his tiger-like gaze swept over the people in front of him. No one dared to look at him. In the majesty of deathly silence, the warchief raised his war hammer high and shouted:
Chapter completed!