Shadow Trails in Azeroth

Lexa took back the relics of his beloved beast from Blake. Under the influence of alcohol, he, a low-key social phobia patient, rarely showed off.

In this cedar forest deep in Alterac, he performed a legendary power called King of Beasts for Blake.

The stinky pirate had a knife in his butt today and his eyes were opened.

But he believed that it wasn't just him who had opened his eyes, even Windrunner's mother or old Hemet would be shocked by Rexxa's wilderness power.

This is beyond the limits of what a hunter can do.

This is no longer a realm of pure hunting, and Black suspects that Rexxar may have entered some kind of natural realm similar to that of a druid without any guidance.

This is indeed not something that can be achieved through skills and hard work. This is a wild miracle that can only be achieved with the support of talent.

Black estimated that even an archdruid would have a hard time summoning beasts like this one in front of him as easily as Rexxar.

Thinking of this, the Eye of Kilrogg on Black's shoulder quietly turned, and he looked at Hisari Black Crow standing on the cedar branch.

The smart little bird was already sluggish now. She maintained her wings half-opened, the feathers on her neck exploded, and her dark eyes widened.

He was obviously frightened by Lexa's move.

These are the decent druids of the Cenarion Order. They were shocked to this point, which is enough to illustrate the legendary power of the legendary orc Batman in front of them.

But Blake has seen the world.

He complained in his heart that during his gaming career, it was not surprising that any hunter player could learn the power of running beasts.

But then I thought about it, players in the game can also form a group of 25 people to kill the fallen titan. Who can do this in reality?

Finding twenty-five demigods to challenge the fallen titan is just a matter of delivering food to others.

Well, that's pretty scary, man.

Blake spread his hands and said to Lexa with sincerity:

I admit I was scared. Look, my arms and legs were shaking.

This joke isn't funny.

Lexa patted Misha on the head. He glanced at Blake and said:

There is only shock in your heart, but no fear. This proves that even if I use this power to deal with you, you can escape unscathed. You are the one who makes people feel scared.

You have become so powerful before you can even sum up your own legendary power.

Once you truly enter the level of legendary power, I will not be your opponent.

I'm glad now that we are friends.

Having said this, the orc hunter moved his shoulders uncomfortably, as if the word friend made him uncomfortable. After a few seconds, Rexxa asked in a low voice:

We're already friends, right?

Yeah, of course.

Blake pouted and complained:

Those people I can't kill are all my friends. Are you leaving now?

When he asked this, the orc hunter had already turned around and walked several steps away. Rexxa looked back at Black, and then at the group of beasts that were dispersing around him.

He said:

My hunting here is over, and I have no reason to stay here. But Misha likes the cold climate of this mountain range, and maybe I will stay here for a few more days.

Or maybe you could do something else besides hanging out, something you don't hate.

Black pointed in the direction of the Frostwolf Clan's headquarters and said:

Don't you hate war?

It just so happens that I came here this time to prevent another dispute between orcs and humans. Uh, don't show that expression, I do occasionally get into the mood and do some 'good deeds' in the traditional sense.

The assassinated Drek'Thar has awakened, and we brought Kargath back. He is enough to prove that the intensification of this war came from the planning and instigation of an organization that has been destroyed, but is still evil.

There is no need to fight to the death like the beasts in the Colosseum for the sake of other people's plots.

The Frostwolf clan is about to start a great migration. This is to save your compatriots. Those orcs who have lived in seclusion for seven years are not the slaughterers and destroyers you hate.

Perhaps you can use your knowledge of this land to escort their evacuation?

Think of it as the last thing you do for your people before leaving the Eastern Continent and exploring territories beyond civilization.

What do you think?

Um

Lexa hesitated for a moment. Under Blake's stunned gaze, he looked at Misha and whispered a few words into the big bear's ear, as if asking.

Misha, the giant bear said to have been blessed by magic, howled twice.

The stinky pirate could see clearly that a cunning light flashed in the eyes of this giant bear, which was brown with a hint of gray.

You smell like honey.

Lexa said to Blake a little embarrassedly:

Misha is usually very well-behaved. I don't know why she behaved like this today.

It's okay, Honey.

Blake grinned and glared hard at the giant bear who pretended that he was just a cute bear who didn't know anything. He squatted on the ground and licked his paws to hide the changes in his eyes.

The pirate took out the large jar of honey he carried with him from his luggage.

This is the best royal jelly in the entire Azeroth world purchased by the Albatross Merchant Guild from Stormsong Valley. It was Dajiao's snack, but now it was handed to Misha by the smelly pirate's hands.

Ouch!

Bighorn saw his treasure being snatched away by another stinky bear, and was very dissatisfied. Frostpaw was also nearby, howling and supporting Bighorn.

But Misha glanced at them disdainfully, and Shi Shiran took the fragrant honey with her paws.

He slapped the lid open in front of Dajiao, dipped his plump bear paw into a thick paw of amber-colored honey, stretched out his barbed tongue, and licked it up.

It also knows that good things cannot be eaten all at once.

After licking his paws, he showed an expression of satisfaction and enjoyment, and pushed the remaining honey to Lexa, motioning for him to keep it for him. Then he yelled at Lexa.

This meant that she was also interested in visiting the Frostwolf orcs, where she might be able to eat orc-style roasted lamb.

All right.

Blake blinked.

He finally figured out the key to dealing with Lexa.

The key is not what Lexa thinks. When he is hesitant about something, as long as he finds a way to deal with the big bear Misha, everything will be OK.

so.

Misha, you must be a legendary druid wandering around the world with your shaman Rex, right?

Complaints are complaints.

It was indeed a good thing to be able to call Rexxa for help.

Black has his own plans.

Even though Rexxar's legendary power, which is purely based on talent, cannot be imitated, he may be able to learn more secrets of Mok'Nathal's beast-taming skills from Rexxar.

There are only a few legendary hunters in this world, and even fewer are proficient in animal taming. How can you miss one if you encounter one?

With this slightly utilitarian thought, Blake chuckled, and together with Lexa, who was as silent as a gourd, the two hunters walked out of the cedar forest with six different beasts, each with its own characteristics.

Not far ahead, there was a black warg waiting with his master on the hillside.

Varok Saurfang was polishing his slightly curved black iron battle ax beside the warg. Beside him, Kargath Bladefist, whose breath was weak and whose face was embarrassed, was being tightly bound by chains. sitting there.

The iconic ferocious blade fist on his broken arm has been removed by the legendary warrior, and all the little bits and pieces on his body have been thrown to the ground.

From bone throwing axes, to steel hand axes, to blow darts and throwing knives, there are also several vicious-looking daggers, and a lot of colorful bottles and jars.

Without exception, these things are quenched with poison.

This fully armed Kargath Bladefist is simply a walking killing machine, but this killing machine is in a very bad condition now. The collaboration between Black and Rexxar has left him covered with wounds.

But the most dangerous fatal injury came from Varok Saurfang's charged execution. The ax just now almost killed the embarrassed Kargath.

In fact, under the previous circumstances, Varok Saurfang was completely able to do this.

If it weren't for the purpose of proving the conspiracy to the Frostwolf clan, warriors like him would not leave behind the evil and depraved life of Kargath Bladefist. Even among the older generation of orc chiefs, Bladefist was not a likable guy.

When the old tribe set foot on Azeroth, even the brutal Blackhand Warchief did not bring the highly capable Warsong Clan and Shattered Hand Clan to conquer the new world.

On the one hand, Blackhand did not feel that he could control the violent Grom Hellscream and the berserker warriors of the Warsong clan.

On the other hand, even a guy like Blackhand and the Shadow Council and Gul'dan behind him don't like the madmen of the Shattered Hand clan and their madman chief who likes to torture.

The two large clans who were left to die in the world of Draenor did not regret and reflect because they could not participate in the war.

The old tribe didn't let them play, so they just played on their own.

It is said that during the six-year Orc War, the two major clans of the Draenor world, the Warsong and the Shattered Hand, went to war with each other for fun. The war between the two crazy clans almost destroyed everything that remained in several areas of the Draenor world. All were razed to the ground.

No one wants these anymore, right?

Blake stepped forward, squatted on the ground, and looked at the various small bits and pieces taken from Kargas. He stroked the poisoned bone dagger, put it on his fingertips, and felt its perfect balance.

He said:

Then I'll take it. No one objects, right?

Rexxar and Varok had no objections to this, but Kargath Bladefist, who was tied there and weak, made some disdainful snorts.

This handsome orc man with flowing black hair said in a low and sarcastic voice:

As a master assassin, Black Shaw, don't you even have the ability to make your own weapons? You're a wild dog that only knows how to pick up bones!

Be careful when using my weapon. If you accidentally cut your hand, it's okay.

Haha, I can’t even detoxify the poison I made!

Really? I doubt it.

Blake played with the bone flying knife in his hand, glanced at Kargas, flashed past with a whoosh, and stabbed the poisoned flying knife into Kargas' shoulder wound with a pop.

This action shocked the two people beside him.

The stinky pirate looked at Kargas Bladefist, whose expression changed drastically. He stood up, put his hands on his hips, and said in a long voice:

Now, you are now poisoned by a poison that is said to be 'even you can't cure yourself of'. If you are willing to face death enough, then of course there is nothing I can do about it.

But if you don’t want to die now”

The pirate leaned down and looked into Kargas's wide eyes. He smiled and said:

I can help you prepare the antidote. As long as you tell me what materials are needed, I will be happy to help. Ah, your face is starting to turn blue, my friend.

There is not much time left for you to hesitate.

As he spoke, the pirate calmly took out his elf-style grimoire, preparing to record Kargas' unique recipe for assassin poison and antidote.

But after thinking about it, I felt that recording this kind of thing in the grimoire was somewhat out of style, and the style didn’t match well.

So Black took out his notebook, summoned a magic pen, and turned the Eye of Kilrogg on his shoulder to stare at the Shattered Hand chief who was shaking with anger.

Well, it's also possible that the toxin was acting up, causing Kargas' exhausted body to begin to tremble.

Say it, I'm listening.

Blake spoke softly and gently:

You can cover up your confused heart with cruelty and viciousness in front of other people, but you don't have to do that in front of me, a prophet.

You have never been one to take death seriously.

You know this very well.

I know it too.

When you were captured by the ogres of Highmaul when you were young and used as a slave gladiator, you developed your current weird and contradictory character.

You can fight for freedom by cutting off your own wrists with shards of stone.

You can call on the gladiators to follow your rampage through self-mutilation.

You can lead them to kill all the slave owners who watch you fight for fun.

You can build your clan based on your talents.

You can become famous throughout Draenor and be regarded by the orcs as a hero of resistance and pursuit of freedom.

But that's all just disguise.

In your heart, you will always be a gladiator struggling to survive in the arena of Highmaul!

You never change.

I heard that you built a large arena in the Shattered Hand clan, and all the poor people you captured had to kill a hundred enemies in it before they could be freed.

You admire those powerful gladiators, whom you regard as the mainstay of your clan.

However.

That thing that should be the most disgusting thing for you has become a game for you to show your strength and pass the time. The former slave turned over and turned himself into an even more hateful slave master.

Those shackles that were supposed to make you feel humiliated were carefully decorated by you as a symbol of sadism, and you did more than the 'masters' who died under you.

hehe.

Black sneered. He leaned down and said in the ear of Kargath Bladefist, who was vomiting blood in anger:

I know you better than you know yourself, and I know that the most glorious thing you hide in your heart is not to become the Chief of the Shattered Hand.

But on the day when you killed the hundredth opponent in the ogre's arena, you were crowned the 'Gladiator Champion' by the dead leader Margok himself.

You are a pathetic man, Kargas.

Your body has long been free, but your heart has always remained in the dark cell of the arena. You could have been stronger, but unfortunately you don't have a goal in your heart that you can pursue.

All the decisions you've made over the years, every war you've fought, are just going with the flow.

I think this is probably why you succumbed so easily to Jorachi Ravenholdt.

You are a gladiator champion who lives for the praise of others. You are held up as a symbol of freedom, but you have no idea what these two words mean.

I find you very pathetic.

But this does not prevent me from using you. If you can submit to Ravenholdt, then you can also submit to me.

So, do you want to join my pirate crew?

If you like gladiatorial combat, I can build you the craziest and most majestic gladiatorial arena in Azeroth.

How about it?

My offer is much more generous than that of the Duke. Besides, what's the point of following a dying man? So, think about it.