Shadow Trails in Azeroth

Blackmoore and his elite guards were routed.

This human general who had joined the army since he was young, fought everywhere, and exchanged his own blood and the blood of his enemies for merit, was left alone less than five minutes after the battle.

It wasn't because he was in a high position that he neglected to exercise, it wasn't because he was scared out of his wits, and it wasn't because the guards around him weren't elite enough.

Just because the opponent is too strong.

The ridiculously strong orc used one man and one axe, just like chopping down a tree. He charged at them and killed them with unreasonable executions, seriously injuring his own guards one by one.

Even the armor made by the dwarf could not withstand the power of the black iron battle axe. Every stroke of his ax resonated with anger, making the kills fierce and fierce.

The result of soldiers using shields to block was that both men and shields were shattered.

When he set off the whirlwind, General Blackmoore even felt like he was suffocating.

There was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.

They could only watch the brave guards wailing and falling to the ground under the ravages of the orcs. They used their bodies to buy themselves time to retreat.

But before Blackmore could run out of the explosion tunnel, there was a howling cold wind behind him.

The general's scalp was numb with excitement, and he rolled outwards. With a bang, the wooden door at the end of the passage was completely shattered by the bloody battle axe, and even the wall collapsed.

Smoke and dust flew everywhere, completely blocking Blackmore's path.

The pale-faced general turned around and saw that the last loyal guard was knocked unconscious by the orc's brutal punch. There was still a fist mark of a steel gauntlet on his helmet.

The orc wearing the fine steel armor forged by the black iron dwarves seemed to be very comfortable after a hearty battle. He reached out and took off his full-face horned helmet, revealing a pair of slightly scarlet eyes.

Then he took off the gauntlet that was chopped to pieces by the battle ax and threw it aside.

He moved his arms and walked towards General Blackmoore. Every step was heavy and filled with the anger of a warrior.

The general took a deep breath. He also knew that he had no way to escape, so he hammered his breastplate hard, let out a shout, stood up with his heavy sword, held the sword with both hands, and pointed the blade at the orc in front of him. .

He worked hard to arouse his anger, turning the loss of his foundation being destroyed, the pain in his heart and the bleak future, as well as the anger aroused after the glory that he had struggled for most of his life to be ruthlessly trampled on tonight, all turned into the motivation for his fight.

Balls of flame-like anger wrapped around his body, adding a touch of tragedy to General Blackmoore's desperate situation.

He also knew very well why the orc in front of him was so angry.

He hated himself for using his people as the carrier of his ambitions, and hated himself for using an orc child. He could even feel the disdain in the eyes of Varok Saurfang in front of him.

This made General Blackmore feel offended.

He shouted:

What? Now you are acting like a hero who protects children? When you massacred the old, weak, women and children in Storm City, why didn't you stand up to complain for them?

Just because I took advantage of your child, I became a heinous sinner in your eyes?

Pooh!

Disgusting green skin!

What right do you have to despise me?

I have no right to despise anyone. You are right, human generals. In your world, on your land, we have no glory at all.

Varok Saurfang clenched his fists as he walked forward and said:

But I just want to teach you a lesson. My purpose is very simple.

Then come!

Blackmore laughed and said:

In front of the child I raised, kill his 'father'! Just like you did to our children before, come on, orc, break my neck, it should be easy for you .

How many people have an orc like you killed?

I never count those.

Saurfang seemed irritated by Blackmoore's words.

He stopped for a moment, then launched a charge. In the swift collision, the human general roared and swung his heavy sword to slash at Varok, who was not dodging, and chopped his shoulder armor into pieces.

It was just a hair away from cutting into his body.

But he never got that chance again.

At the same time as the shoulder armor shattered, Varok's punch hit Blackmoore's chin, sending him flying off the ground. He then slammed the general to the ground with a hug.

The sword in Blackmoore's hand whirled and flew out. He felt that all the bones in his body were being smashed by this blow, and his jaw was definitely broken.

I really deserve to die.

Saurfang pressed down on the struggling human general in front of him, with bleeding nostrils and ears, and whispered:

the same as you!

No! Stop!

At the moment when Varok seemed to be strangulating Blackmoore, behind him, at the other end of the passage, the young orc in shabby clothes who was brought out of the dungeon by Brox suddenly shouted:

Overseer, stop! If we want to stop the hatred, we should stop actively creating disputes! Killing him will make your situation worse.

It will also implicate the Frostwolf clan in the Alterac Mountains.

you?

Varok turned around, looked at the young orc with blue eyes behind him, and said:

You should have said 'we'! Go'el!

His name is Sal, idiot.

Blackmore spat at the orc in front of him.

Because his jaw was broken, every time he opened his mouth he was in great pain. He said vaguely:

That's the name that suits his identity, that's the name he grew up with. He doesn't want me to die. Did you see the look in his eyes?

He knows I shaped him.

He doesn't trust you, he trusts me more.

Hahaha, first there was Black Shaw, then two powerful warlords, and a damn ‘big chief’. Thrall’s identity was indeed not simple.

I knew the day I picked him up that he was destined to be the king of the orcs! He is the king of the orcs created by me, and it was you who killed his parents.

You are his enemies, and I am his adoptive father!

You can never change this!

We don't need to change his past, we just focus on his future.

Varok lowered his head in disappointment and clasped Blackmore's wrist. As the anger gathered with the force of his fingers, the general's hand bones were violently broken by the warlord.

He looked into Blackmore's wide eyes and said:

I won't take your life either. Keeping promises is a virtue we orcs have just picked up. Your fate must be judged by your 'friend'.

He is a human being, so he should probably be 'kinder' to you.

The painful general also yelled and cursed.

But he was punched in the neck by Saurfang, his eyes turned white and he fainted.

Ten minutes later, Chief Red commanded his orthodox tribe to board the dragon of the Dragonmaw clan again, and flew quickly out of the hills in the night that was about to dawn.

There are a large number of bags tied to the back of each dragon, filled with treasures and supplies, which are the rewards and rents promised to the Dragonmaw clan.

Those bastards charge extremely high prices because of their unique business.

However, Chief Red also made a lot of money during this trip, so he would not deduct these things.

Kargath never responded, and his Shattered Hand elites fled into the Silverpine Forest. I saw Grom leading his people to the Alterac Mountains before.

The two of them had made up their minds not to return to Draenor.

Behind a dragon, Varok wiped his battle ax and said to his brother:

Thall is willing to follow us back to Blackstone Mountain, but he demands that we release Blackmoore. The child was 'poisoned'. The vicious words Blackmoore said before he was knocked unconscious seem to have come true.

Having said this, Varok glanced back.

The young Thrall was curiously sitting on the dragon's spine, listening to the old Ner'zhul's stories about the past of the world of Draenor. The old shaman who was always extremely tired and like a walking corpse, now Hui seems to have regained his vitality strangely.

He was holding up a hemp-like hand and describing the shape of the continent of Draenor to Thrall on a piece of cloth. Thrall listened with interest and asked a few questions from time to time.

This scene fell in Varok's eyes, making the warlord feel a little relieved. He turned his head and whispered to the silent Brooks:

But I always feel that under that child's appearance, which is similar to ours, there is a human soul hidden.

Wouldn't that be better?

Brooks was not worried about this problem. He frowned and tried to put the blades of his broken legendary battle ax together while saying to his worried brother:

That means that Go'ir will have the bravery of the orcs and the cunning of humans. He will be a fusion of the advantages of the two races, and he will be able to better lead our people in the future.

And now, instead of worrying about Guyir's problems, you should worry about his people.

Without knowing Lothar's life or death, the human army will soon march into Alterac. Drek'Thar and his tribe must evacuate immediately. We must arrange for a trustworthy person to pick them up.

I go!

Varok moved his shoulders, threw a piece of dried meat into his mouth, and said:

During the war, I stayed in the Hinterlands and followed Warchief Orgrim through the mountain roads of Alterac. I am very familiar with it. If that pirate can bring them a ship as agreed, then I will We are sure to bring them safely to the coast of the Hinterland.

Yeah, okay.

Brooks nodded, thought for a moment, and then said:

But don't leave in a hurry, we have to meet that pirate again. We worked as a 'thug' for him, and we saved his tribe and civilization, and he still owes us something.

Go get some rest, Varok.

Don't think too much, we will teach Go'el well.

After sending his younger brother to rest, Brox continued to sit cross-legged behind the large dragon. He was still frowning as he pieced together the fragments of the battle ax in front of him.

But after a few seconds, Brooks looked around and quietly raised his left hand.

In his hand, there was a strange rune. The shape of the rune was very similar to the war rune that Lothar had wrapped around his body in Dalaran.

The old orc didn't know when he had this thing in his hand, but he was sure that it came after he chopped off Deathwing's axe.

This seemed to mean that he was noticed by some supreme being.

No.

That's not accurate.

The orcs represented by him should have been noticed by the war god sitting high in the clouds.

This is a power that can be responded to, but Brox can't decide whether to respond to it. After all, the orcs have had enough of the terrible trouble caused by casually responding to power.

The death of a world is enough for them to learn to be cautious.

——

At the same time that Durnholde Castle was attacked, Silverpine Forest was near the Dalaran Crater.

This is the landscape created after the out-of-control magic that was supposed to destroy the entire northern Xinjiang continental shelf was transferred underground and detonated, and the city above it has been shattered into slag.

It was broken into pieces so evenly that it was difficult for the disgraced little mages who had escaped the disaster and stood by the pit to pick up something as a souvenir.

All the items in the entire city were mixed with the broken earth and piled evenly at the bottom of the pit. It was foreseeable that it would be a long and difficult process to collect usable things from those residues.

Fortunately, the spaces extended by magic in each mage tower are still there, like invisible lost treasures. As long as the mages can find a way to open them, everything will not be lost.

But if you have a bad memory, there's nothing you can do. After the main body of the mage tower collapses, the magic space attached to the existence of the main body will gradually dissipate due to the loss of magic power supply.

If there is no way to reopen them before they are completely destroyed, everything inside will be lost in the void. Maybe it will suddenly reappear in some places in the material world after a few years or more.

But most of the time, it’s gone and it’s gone, and you can only admit that you’re unlucky.

It is said that the mysterious Postmaster can retrieve those things, but even among the mages in Dalaran, there are very few people who know the spell to summon the Postmaster's servants.

However, the mages of Dalaran have not yet had time to pay attention to this. The high-level mages headed by the six-man council received reports from some cavalry that there were large groups of orcs moving in the forest.

So they set out full of anger, wanting to spread the anger of the city's destruction on these damn orcs.

Kargath Bladefist didn't know which link caused the problem. In short, after he took a nap, he and his Shattered Hand elites were surrounded by a group of violent mages.

With such a big difference in numbers, they must not fight and must retreat. But the problem is that Kargas is not a veteran of the orc war. He is very unfamiliar with this land.

After leading the tribe around for more than ten minutes, not only did they not run out, but they were trapped in a newly formed valley by the mages who narrowed the encirclement net.

Apply poison!

Kargas looked around. The handsome orc man with flowing long hair showed a ferocious smile and said:

Stop running! Fight to the death with them here, kill a few more mages, kill a hundred! Bring them endless pain!

Roar!

This crazy proposal was immediately cheered and hosted by all the Shattered Hand lunatics, who fearlessly began to poison their ferocious fist blades and weapons.

Kargas himself planned to do this, but just when he took out the poison sac, a voice suddenly sounded from a tree not far away.

Hey, do you orcs have such a sense of ritual that you even want to die?

Um?

Chief Broken Hand raised his head and saw an old man standing on a branch, wearing a noble hunting suit. The latter was playing with a broken demon claw and said to him condescendingly:

I know there is a way to take you all out, but I need you to agree to one request.

I used to have a big power, but now it's been destroyed. As you can see, I'm just a middle-aged man now, but I don't want to just admit defeat.

I formally invite you to join the newly reborn Ravenholdt, Kargath Bladefist. I feel like after this failure, my organization should be more 'inclusive'.

what is your opinion? Master of Blade Fist.