Hello everyone!
Some characters in Warcraft go on and take their place in the spotlight.
Doing amazing deeds and changing the world for the better.
While others, they’re there to guide them.
To support them on that road of greatness, sometimes at a terrible price.
Taretha Foxton is one of them and if you like what Thrall has done for the Horde, for the
world as a whole, you should know her story...
Let’s begin with how thrall came into her life to begin with.
The Horde has been sold out by the orc Warlock Gul’dan to the burning legion in exchange
for promises of power.
Their people are corrupt, their world are corrupt and they’re in need of a new one.
Through the dark portal they came to invade azeroth, but some amongst them did not agree
with the way things were going.
Durotan of the exiled Frostwolf clan saw that their corruption spread throughout their generations
as his son go’el was born with a green skin.
This was the last straw.
He and Draka left their people in the alterac mountains to expose the truth to their longtime
friend Orgrim Doomhammer.
They all agreed that something had to be done, but before they could take any real action,
the guards doomhammer had trusted to keep his friends safe, were actually loyal to Gul’dan.
The guards fell upon durotan and draka.
The frostwolves fought bitterly against their attackers, killing one of them.
But the remaining guards struck them down while go’el was left to die in the frigid
cold.
Left to die in the wilds with his parents dead bodies next to him, but this would not
be Go’el’s fate.
A day after his parents were murdered, a hunting party led by aedelas blackmoore - a human
noble from the northern stronghold of durnholde keep – came upon the grisly scene.
The sound of crying drew blackmoore’s attention, and he found go’el, starving and freezing
but alive.
He decided to take him back to durnholde and have him examined.
There was no telling what secrets blackmoore might glean about his new enemies by observing
one of their young not to mention that Blackmoore had some ideas on how to use the orc.
But first, the now named Thrall or slave had to survive except the ugly thing wouldn’t
eat, and had grown pale and quiet over the last several days.
The beast was dying which had enraged blackmoore.
The answer to his survival came from Taretha Foxton.
Her father Tammix Foxton had been blackmoore’s servant for 10 years now and was discussing
Thrall’s situation with his wife who served in the kitchens.
She had recently given birth to a baby boy named Faralyn who had woken up their daughter,
crying to be fed.
While listening in, Taretha thought the answer was obvious.
They were trying to feed a baby meat, but that’s not what babies eat.
They drink milk, like her baby brother.
That’s the way orcs were viewed by many, so alien, so monstrous, that they didn’t
even consider their might be similarities.
From a mouth of the child came the answer and after pleading with his wife for a bit,
she was willing to feed thrall as well.
"Thank goodness for Mistress Foxton and her swollen teats otherwise thrall might not have
made it out of infancy.
Blackmoore was so pleased that riches were bestowed upon the foxtons.
Their room was exchanged for another, and then larger quarters still.
Tammix got a horse named ladyfire.
Clannia no longer reported to the kitchens.
Taretha wore the finest clothes and even had a tutor to teach her how to read and write
like a lady.
Sadly, her little brother Faralyn died of a fever and when thrall was old enough to
eat a vile concoction of blood, cow’s milk and porridge with his own small hands, the
guards took him away.
Taretha cried then, one brother had passed away, the other was now taken away.
She got smacked for the effort and pretented to never talk about thrall again.
To the outside she appeared to be the ever obedient child, but she vowed that she would
never forget this strange creature that had been almost like a younger brother to her.
Never.
With thrall being able to sustain himself, Blackmoore’s plans could begin.
You see, blackmoore lived quite under the shadow of his father, Aedelyn Blackmoore.
The father had become a pariah for commiting treason against Lordaeron.
Aedelas believed that the leaders still saw him as ‘the son of a traitor’, despite
becoming a distinguised veteran of the second war.
When the first horde invasion was defeated, the orcs that surrendered were placed within
interment camps.
Leadership over the prisons fell to Aedelas, something that he considered to be a thankless
job that held no glory.
An insult from the alliance leadership.
But what if he could overthrow the alliance and rule the world himself?
Train thrall as a slave gladiator, teach him to read, to write, tactics, to eventually
rise up and lead his fellow imprisoned orcs in another war against the world.
This one with aedelas blackmoore leading the charge...what if... and so thrall’s horrible
treatment under blackmoore began.
A future leader, but still a slave, something that blackmoore never let him forget.
He was kept in his cell for so long that by the time they brought him out to fight, he
didn’t even know what a shadow was.
He was a natural fighter though, impressed his teacher going by the name of sergant,
a much kinder spirit then blackmoore was.
Out in the courtyard, he spots what he assumes to be a female human.
His eyes lock with the blue ones of the child.
She did not seem frightened of his ugly apperance at all.
On the contrary, she met his gaze evenly, and as he watched, she smiled brightly and
waved at him, as if she was happy to see him.
He couldn’t understand how such a thing was possible, but the answer came when Sergeant,
the man who tought him how to fight but also the concept of mercy, suggested to put his
reading skills to use.
Give him books, teach him about military history to better understand tactics and strategy.
The one ordered to bring him these books was Taretha.
She looked every inch the obedient little servant girl.
Only her parents knew how sharp a brain – and tongue- were hidden behind that deceptively
sweet visage.
As Thrall flipped one of the books open something fluttered to the straw-covered floor of his
cell.
It was a small, tightly folded piece of parchment.
Curious, he unfolded it, taking his time with his large fingers.
It was a note:
Dear Thrall, Master B. has ordered that you have these books I am so excited for you.
I did not know he had let you learn how to read.
He let me learn how to read too and I love reading.
I miss you and hope you are well.
It looks like what they are making you do in the courtyard hurts I hope you are all
right.
I would like to keep talking with you do you want to ? If yes, write me a note on the back
of this paper and fold it back up in the book I put it in.
I will try to come and see you if not keep looking for me Im the little girl who waved
at you that one time.
I hope you write back!!!
Love Taretha.
P.S. dont tell anyone about the note we will get in BIG TROUBLE!!!
With his nail he opened up one of his wounds.
With his own blood he wrote down one word: Yes.
That was the beginning of many secret letters send between Thrall and Taretha.
Don’t worry, he didn’t always use his blood, eventually they snuck in material to
write with.
Either way, during the gruling training and treatment from blackmoore, these two found
eachother.
Through her letters, thrall’s mind was opened to a world beyond his cell.
A world of art, and beauty, and companionship.
A world of food beyond rotting meat and slop.
A world in which he had a place.
He knew that Tari did not have a priviliged life, not the way Blackmoore did.
She was a servant, in her own way, as much in thrall as the orc who bore the name.
But she had friends, and she was not spat upon, and she belonged, Thrall had no people
of his own.
The only thing he had left to remind him of the days with his parents was a fraying square
of cloth that bore the symbol of a white wolf head on a blue field.
He could not just walk up to Blackmoore and tell him that he was done being a slave, that
he was ready to find his own family and so Thrall remained a slave and fought his battles
in the arena.
Yet life for Taretha was no picnic either.
She might not be thrown into the arena to fight, but she had her own battles all the
same.
To Blackmoore, she had been a lovely, obedient child, and with the years had matured into
a lovely, obedient woman.
Beautiful to be certain and he had taken her as his mistress.
On her wrists and around her throat, bruizes were sometimes present.
She hid them from the world, ashamed of doing something that went so against her own nature.
But she did it for the sake of her family.
When prince arthas visited durnholde to check on what blackmoore was doing, he also saw
thrall in action and was rather impressed but also worried.
Orgrim Doomhammer, warchief of the Horde when they were defeated, had escaped their captivity
and was now roaming the wilds somewhere.
If Orgrim was able to escape, there was a chance that Thrall would as well but Blackmoore
assured him that the beast was under his control.
As long as the royal coffers see their proper percentage of the earnings, they were permitted
to continue the games.
The state visit lasted five days.
During one of those days, late in the evening, Taretha came to visit the prince in his private
quarters.
He was puzzled that his servants did not answer the tentative knock on the door and was even
more startled to see the pretty blond girl standing there carrrying a tray of delicacies.
Her eyes were downcast, but her dress was revealing enough that he didn’t speak immediately.
She dropped a curtsey.
“My lord blackmoore sent me with this offering of things to tempt you she said.
Color suffused her cheeks.
Arthas was confused.
He wasn’t hungry, he didn’t understand what she was doing here.
The pink in her cheeks deepend, and she lifted her eyes to him.
They were calm, resigned.
“My lord blackmoore sent me with this offering of things to tempt you, she repeated.
“Things you might enjoy.”
Understanding burst upon him then.
Understanding, and embarresment, and irritation, and anger.
He composed himself with an effort – it was hardly the girl’s fault, indeed, she
was the one being ill used.
Arthas had a kind heart and accepted the food, but Taretha could not just leave.
Blackmoore wouldn’t be too happy with her so she was invited in by the prince and after
a while she didn’t just respond with more than a few polite words.
They spent the next few hours talking before they agreed it was time for her to return.
As she picked up the tray, she turned to him.
“Your highness – it pleases me so much to know that the man who wil be our next king
has such a kind heart.
The lady you choose to make your queen will be a very lucky woman.
He smiled and closed the door behind her, leaning on it for a moment.
So the games continued and thrall kept on fighting, earning great victories for his
master.
Blackmoore had inherited his fathers clever, strategic mind, but he also had a taste for
the bottle.
One time he had thrall fight 9 matches in a row.
8 his pet orc had won, each victory bringing home more gold.
The ninth was ill adviced, even sergeant told blackmoore to let thrall rest, that it was
enough for today but the drunk aedelas wouldn’t hear it.
Thrall was tired and injured, pitted against a massive ogre who kicked the crap out of
him, beat him to an inch of his life.
The fighters were sepperated and thrall was brought back to his prison.
He expected healers to come, as they always did.
Sure he had lost the final match, but earned victory in 8 of them something he had never
done before...but the healers were not the first ones to show up.
A severely drunk blackmoore was pissed.
A thousand gold he had lost because of Thrall.
Despite his injuries, blackmoore started to kick him and did not stop until the next group
came in.
A group of guards took their turn beating him up.
This was the thing that broke thrall, broke the chains on his mind that bound him to Aedelas.
Sergeant showed up as soon as he heard about the beating and pulled the guards of an unconcious
thrall.
He woke up to the healers.
Sergant gave him praise, was impressed on how he had performed, but it was too little,
too late.
He would not let himself be used like this any longer.
Once, he would have cringed and cowed to be better, to do something to earn the love and
respect he so desperatly craved.
Now, he knew he would never find it here, not as long as blackmoore owned him.
He reached for the tablet and stilus he kept in the sack and wrote a note to the only person
he could trust.
“Tari.
On the next dark moons, I plan to escape.”
And she was there for him of course, at great risk.
A fire was started to distract the guards, a massive black cloak was waiting for him
to hide him in the night.
Thrall escaped the place that had kept him imprisoned for so many years and reuinited
with his sister in spirit.
For ten years they’d been writing one another and now she could finally hug him again.
There wasn’t a lot of time to talk, but enough time to realise that her life with
Blackmoore wasn’t easy either.
The bruises, she explained them to him.
Her eyes grew shiny.
As he watched, liquid spilled from them and poured down her cheeks.
“I’m so ashamed she whispered.
What is happening to your eyes?
Asked thrall.
What is ashamed?
“Oh thrall, she said, her voice thick.
She wiped at her eyes.
These are called tears.
They come when we are so sad, so soul sick, it’s as if our hearts are so full of pain
there’s no place else for it to go.
Taretha took a shuddering breath.
And shame...it’s when you’ve done something that’s so contrary to who you believe yourself
to be you wish that no one ever knew about it.
But everyone knows, so he might as well too.
She told him about being blackmoore’s mistress.
Outrage filled him, but she couldn’t join him on his escape.
Her life was here in Durnholde while his journey was to find his people.
She bowed her head and removed a silver chain from her long neck.
Dangling from the delicate chain was a crescent moon.
If he was ever here again and in need, all he had to do was place this necklace in the
trunk of the old tree, and she would again meet him in this cave and do what she could
to help.
“They call you a monster, but they’re the monster.
Now you.
Farewell, Thrall.
While Tari’s day as a slave in Durnhodle seem endless, thrall leaves her behind carrying
with him provisions, a map and his most prices possesssions, her necklace and the letters
they wrote eachother.
Next week we’ll continue the story and find out what the future holds for Taretha Foxton.
For now thank you very much for watching everyone and a big thank you to silverletomi for offering
her lovely voice to bring taretha a bit more to life.
I tried to do her lines myself, trust me...you did not want to hear me try to seduce arthas.
You can find letomi on Youtube where she has a massive catalogue of parody songs, including
Warcraft ofcourse and on twitch where she streams often.
Her recent twitch sing streams have just been amazing.
“Youre getting into the song” Links to her stuff in the description down
below....until next time guys....see ya!