Menethil's Power

Chapter 63 The Battle of the Endless Sea

The cold and smooth feel of Gul'dan's skull made Red Blackhand feel uneasy, as if Gul'dan's soul still remained in this skull.

There were faint murmurs coming from his ear, although he couldn't hear what he was saying, but it made Reid quite irritated, obviously this despicable warlock would not give up bewitching innocent souls even if he died.

As a warrior who relied purely on the strength of flesh and blood, Red realized that it was not a wise choice to directly touch the skull of this evil door.He tore off a piece of dirty cloth from Drak'Thul's tattered clothes, ignoring the lame warlock's eyes, and wrapped the skull hastily.

Although the next journey was still dangerous, there were no new casualties after all. There were no high-level existences among the deformed orcs, and they didn't seem to know any tactics.And so Red Blackhand successfully brought his remaining men back to the beach.

The tide has receded, and in order to avoid grounding the iron-framed warships away from the shallow water, only one frigate was left to meet them, but these two warships were also in trouble at this time—the water depth of less than three meters was not suitable for them. Those aberrant orcs were too much of a hindrance.

Boarding the ship was not very smooth, Red Blackhand pushed the dawdling Drake'Thul onto the ship, then turned over and jumped onto the deck, raised a knife and cut off the palm of a deformed orc holding the side of the ship, "Anchor!" He Shouted loudly: "We retreat!"

The peon shouted slogans, pushed the turntable and pulled up the anchor.The frigate raised its sails, easily knocked away the deformed orcs who were trying to block them with their bodies, and sailed slowly towards the east.

Half an hour later, they met up with other ships. After learning that their mission had been completed, this small orc fleet immediately decided to evacuate.Something terrible might have happened on that island, but it wasn't their concern anymore.

Under the gloomy sea water, there seems to be a deep laughter echoing...
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A few nautical miles away, on a battleship flying a dark green anchor flag, the Grand Prince of Kul Tiras, Derek Proudmoore, was wearing a brand-new colonel uniform, squinting his left eye and watching through a brass telescope. facing the sea.

This talented naval rookie has made outstanding achievements in battle. He has an impressive record of sinking eleven Horde warships in this orc war, so he was quickly promoted from the captain of a small frigate to the fleet commander of a squadron.He can have such an improvement speed entirely because of his outstanding commanding ability and amazing attack, and has absolutely nothing to do with his identity.

Soon a smile appeared on Derek's handsome face, and he finally found his target, the fish that slipped through the net.This orc fleet was not large, and there was only one main battleship. Fortunately, they passed through the blind spot of the Kul Tiras defense line, but no fox could escape a good hunter, no matter how cunning.

Derek raised the angle of the binoculars slightly, and the smile on his face became stronger. It's great, this tribal fleet doesn't have any red dragon escort, it's almost like fat on the chopping board.

He put away the binoculars and drew out his saber, "Attack the whole ship!" He ordered, and the sailors of Kul Tiras moved quickly.Consisting of three three-masted battleships and more than a dozen frigates, the Kul Tiras Sixth Squadron changed direction and headed towards the Blackstone Fleet with full sails.

After the tomahawk-style blade thrower first showed its edge in the encounter with the Horde, the Kul Tiran navy fell in love with this amazingly powerful weapon, although it exposed many disadvantages in the subsequent battles, The deadliest of these is that it is easy to be intercepted, but this does not hinder the experienced Kul Tiras navy, and they quickly developed corresponding tactics.

The core idea of ​​this tactic is very simple. Since long-distance strikes are easy to be intercepted, use the short-range weapons in the blade thrower.Therefore, this kind of situation often occurs in naval battles between the Alliance and the Horde: the Kul Tiras warships rush forward frantically, and the Horde ships frantically retreat to get a safe distance. This is completely opposite to the war situation on land, and such a strange situation occurs There is only one reason - within 200 meters, the Tomahawk blade thrower is almost sure to hit.

The tribal navy could only use its numerical advantage to fight a war of attrition with the Kul Tiras fleet, until the appearance of the dragoons suppressed their arrogance.The heavy loss gave the orcs a clear understanding: if they encounter several human battleships, they should turn the bows, beat the hard labor of the rowers, and leave their fate to their ancestors.

Unfortunately, Red Blackhand was facing such a bad situation. His face suddenly darkened, and he turned to look at the only spellcaster on the ship, Draxul: "What do you do to deal with this?"

The crappy warlock showed a flattering smile, and handed over a few emerald green crystals, "Candy?" He asked kindly.

Reid Blackhand took a few deep breaths to calm down, and took the life stones condensed by the warlocks. After all, these things can at least save lives at critical moments.

The situation is very bad, the number of ships of one's own side is only one-third of the number of the opponent's, and a frontal confrontation is undoubtedly a pebble against a stone, so there is only one choice left.But Red hesitated, because this approach was too despicable.

why not?Compared to those fools, your life obviously has more meaning than those fools.A lively voice suddenly sounded in his ears.

Although he knew that the voice was malicious, but this time Red had to admit that it was right.He made up his mind and shouted at the flagship: "I will try to assassinate the commander of the human fleet! Buy me some time, Maim!"

Maim Blackhand at the bow of the iron battleship nodded firmly, and once again trusted his brother unreservedly, commanding the battleship to charge towards the Kul Tiras fleet fearlessly.Fortunately, the opponent didn't want to waste the precious rune blade, and they were going to play a side-to-side battle.Two battleships collided on the orc armored ship, one left and one right, and with a neat cry, a large number of human sailors rushed onto the deck of the orc battleship.

Maim Blackhand had no fear, and took the lead to meet him, but he was hit by several arrows and lead bullets in an instant.Unlike his talented elder brother, Maim is still only a lord-level fighter, so his combat power is very limited.

Humanity seemed endless, and despite their heroics, the Blackstone warriors fell one by one.During the bloody battle, Maim Blackhand took the time to scan the surrounding area. His warship was completely surrounded, and the other three frigates had turned into wreckage floating on the sea. However, in the southwest direction, there was an orc that was quickly going away. Frigate!
That was the ship that Reid was on. Maim Blackhand felt his blood pumping out of his heart in an instant. He was betrayed, and was treated as a chess piece that was discarded at will by his dearest brother.He roared in grief and anger, but was suddenly pierced through the chest by several rapiers—there is no room for distraction on the battlefield.

He fell down, bleeding all over the ground, but his strong vitality didn't make him die immediately.Maim's consciousness fell into chaos, and he could vaguely hear roars, weapons colliding and screams, and soon there was silence.

When the consciousness regained consciousness again, Maim found that he was miraculously still alive, and there was not much blood flowing from the pierced chest, but it made him unable to move.A burst of gurgling water came from below the deck, and Maim's face changed instantly. This was the sound of seawater pouring into the cabin.

The Kul Tiras navy obviously didn't like the orcs' crude ironclad ships. They dealt with the captured Horde warships by blowing a few big holes in their bottoms and letting them sink, and this time was no exception.

There is nothing more cruel than watching his own death. The immobile Maim can only watch him sink into the sea with the broken iron-framed battleship. The seawater poured into his nostrils and poured into his lungs, trying to Completely submerged his life.

Of course, Maim Blackhand would not have the idea of ​​"the captain wants to be with the ship". He struggled in vain, but he could only spit out a series of bubbles ridiculously. Despair gradually engulfed his heart. Can count in seconds.

On the verge of death and unconsciousness, Maim made a final prayer unwillingly: No matter who you are, no matter what kind of existence you are, as long as you can save my life, I am willing to pay everything on my behalf.

"Really?" A cold and hollow voice suddenly sounded in his ear, "Are you really willing to give up everything you once cherished, just to save your ridiculous life?"

Maim Blackhand nodded slightly with the last of his strength.

The voice fell silent, as if hesitating about something, "The talent is poor, and it's amazingly stupid." It commented coldly: "But fortunately, it's good to be loyal." A purple-black energy suddenly appeared in the void, one after another, Wrap the body of Maim Blackhand.It's unbelievable that the breath of this energy is strikingly similar to those deformed orcs on the Broken Shore.

"Now, let go of your heart and accept my gift, slave!"
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A small camp in the Alterac Mountains thousands of miles away.

The alliance's quick return to aid not only established a siege against Doomhammer, but also directly blocked more than ten thousand orcs in the Alterac Mountains. With Doomhammer's retreat, these orcs were completely isolated and helpless. There is self-help.

But what is strange is that most of this small camp is full of old and weak women and children, and the leader is an old orc with gray hair. His eyes are hidden under dark red blindfolds, but the orcs passing by Be extra respectful.

All the members of the Frostwolf clan knew that the Prophet Drek'Thar was the only pillar of the entire clan when the chief Durotan was killed and the chief's son Go'el disappeared.

An orc covered in frost and snow rushed back. He was Lord Frostblade, one of the few young adults of the Frostwolf Clan.Lodel simply cleaned off the snow on his body, and bowed his head respectfully to Drek'Thar: "Master Prophet, Warlord Calder asked us to send at least two hundred fighters to join their team, but they don't accept our other soldiers. Clan." He smiled wryly.

Drek'Thar's face didn't seem to change under the light of the bonfire. "We continue north," he said.

Lord Prophet was taken aback, "Master Prophet, without the help of other orcs, it is impossible for us to fight against humans alone." He said eagerly, and looked at the other clansmen worriedly.

Drek'Thar sighed and stood up, "I followed the guidance of the ancestors and brought you here, but not to make you bear unnecessary sacrifices again. Let's go to the depths of the snow-capped mountains, where is our only Shelter."

"Deep in the snow-capped mountains?" Lodel was a little unbelievable.

"Yes." Drek'Thar nodded, "Doomhammer has failed, and his position as chieftain will inevitably be shaken, which means that the protection he gave to the Frostwolf Clan will no longer be valid, so we must have a piece of land , their own land."

"But it's not suitable for living there! Maybe we have other options?" Lodel was unwilling to give up persuading the Prophet, although he knew that the hope was slim.

"How much better did our living environment used to be than here? Frostfire Ridge is also not suitable for living." Drek'Thar asked back, leaning over and stroking the neck of the white wolf lying beside the fire, the white wolf let out a comfortable sigh snore. "What's more, we have the help of these loyal partners."

Lordel was speechless.

The old orc raised his head slightly, facing the direction of the sunrise, as if he could see through the illusory future, "The Frostwolf clan is a great and tenacious clan." He murmured: "It will take root here and thrive until that day. The Child of Destiny foretold by the ancestors arrives, and under his leadership restore the glory of the Orcs."

(End of this chapter)