Shadow Trails in Azeroth

Orgrim really didn't expect that the alliance would have such "strong support".

But he has gone too far.

He had already brought the last elites he had carefully prepared for this battle, and took advantage of the most chaotic moment of the battle to insert himself into the battlefield like a sharp knife.

Brave Brooks accompanied him.

This loyal and violent warrior is willing to follow him to the ends of the earth.

But when those golden Valkyries fell from the sky, the chief knew that he had lost and the tribe had lost.

There is no possibility of a comeback.

For a moment, the warchief wanted to lead the absolute elite behind him to break through the alliance's defenses, humiliate them, and then walk away.

Go back to the Dark Portal, go back to the world of Draenor, go back and invite the more violent Grom Hellscream and Kargath Shatterhand, and form a Horde army to fight back to this world.

This failure may be temporary.

But this idea did not stay in his mind for more than a second before Orgrim gave up completely.

Because he saw the person in front of him!

Anduin Lothar!

The commander-in-chief of the alliance, although he has not yet become the king, but he can be called the "King of the Alliance", the old man is riding a horse and leading his knights to charge under the light of the sky.

He was less than two hundred meters away from him.

This is probably the closest the old rivals Orgrim and Lothar have been since the fall of the Kingdom of Stormwind.

If he leaves this time, even if he comes back to fight in the future, he will never have such an opportunity again.

"Brocks!"

Orgrim pulled the reins of the wolf, swung his war hammer, and hit an assassin who appeared from the side and tried to attack him until he vomited blood and flew backwards.

The chief didn't look back, he just stared at Lothar in front of him.

He shouted loudly in orcish:

"Take this elite force! Find your brother and break out! From now on, these warriors will be your clan, Brox, and you will be their chief!

It doesn't matter if you go back to Draenor or you stay in Azeroth.

The last elite of the tribe cannot be lost in this losing battle. "

"Don't even think about it!"

The orc warrior wielding a huge ax easily harvested the heads of enemies around him. His combat skills were so skilled and his power was so great that every move would bring devastating blows to the enemy.

The orc warlord named Brox laughed loudly. He didn't seem to care at all that the tribe had already lost.

While enjoying the joy of fighting, he said to the chief:

"I said I would be with you to the end, Warchief. I am a warrior, and you are trying to make me give up my oath.

You're trying to turn me into a bastard.

Do you think I will agree?

I have already lost my glory, and I don’t want to lose my oath again. "

"Let you go! Just go!"

Orgrim still didn't look back, he just tightened the reins of the wolf. The moment he got close to Brox, he whispered:

"When we retreated from the northern border, Drek'Thar told me that Durotan's children, the legacy of the Frostwolf clan, might still be alive."

"Um?"

Brox, who was enjoying the battle, suddenly stopped swinging his battle ax, which gave the human paladin next to him an opportunity. The brave knight swung his gleaming war hammer and struck down the orc warlord.

But the latter clenched his fist and punched him to the ground.

Easy and freehand.

Just like a warrior god among mortals.

"If I die"

The war chief stared at Lothar and said in a deep voice:

“Just find Guyir for me, watch him grow up for me, tell him my story, our story, our mistakes, our hometown, and our fall.

If I die.

Brox, train that child for me, crown him with the title of warchief for me, guide him for me, and find the glory that we have abandoned.

This is your new vow!

I know you won't break your oath, so swear it, Brox.

Take a vow.

A great chief must be defeated here, otherwise humans will not stop hunting!

Take a vow.

Just do it for me.

Brooks! Swear! Do you still want me to beg you? ! ! "

"I swear!"

The orc warlord clenched his teeth and clenched his battle axe. After a few seconds, he shouted:

"I will defend him with my life, just as I choose to follow you for the rest of my life, Warchief. Farewell!"

The next moment, the warlord roared wildly, turned the reins, and gave orders to the elite orcs behind him, and followed him to break out to the other side, but there were still many orc warriors who were unwilling to abandon the war chief.

They will follow each other to the death.

Orgrim looked back, laughed loudly, and continued to rush toward Lothar.

The next moment, a sharp arrow flew towards him, whistling with six magical arrow shadows. While Orgrim blocked the arrow with his war hammer, those magic arrow shadows still stabbed down, killing the warg who had been with him for a long time. pierce.

The warchief fell over in embarrassment. He stood up and swung his war hammer, knocking down the enemies around him, and then half-knelt beside his dying wolf.

He reached out and stroked the black wolf's ears and eyes.

He said:

"Scout the way for me, Frostpaw, I'll be right back."

"Ouch"

The dying wolf tried its best to stick out its tongue, flicked the master's gauntlet, seemed to respond with a painful whimper, struggled to get up, and finally fell to the ground, no longer alive.

"Pooh"

The warchief spat rudely at his side, grabbed his Doomhammer with both hands and stood up.

He looked at Lothar, who was less than twenty meters away.

Lothar also saw him.

The next moment, the two warriors and the two leaders charged towards each other at the same time.

Lothar was riding on a fully armed war horse, clearly having the advantage.

The marshal's guards are called Iron Horse Knights. They are elites composed of Lothar's friends for many years. Lothar himself is also very good at riding, especially good at charging with war horses.

This can give him greater impact, allowing him to finish off his opponent cleanly.

But Orgrimmar quickly solved the problem.

The moment Lothar charged towards him, the warhammer in his hand drew an arc while ducking away.

The huge and heavy hammer head hit the marshal's horse hard on the head.

The beast didn't even let out a scream, and fell down with its head shattered. The armor used to protect the horse's head was torn apart by the dents of the hammer, and a fountain of blood spurted out from its shattered bones. come out.

Its limbs twitched and it fell to the ground.

But Lothar did not fall.

The moment his horse was killed, he jumped down, rolled around on the ground, held the violent steel sword of the Barbarian King, and struck a standard, powerful and fatal blow towards Orgrim.

"clang"

The sound of the two legendary weapons colliding made the orcs and humans around them cover their ears and retreat.

The sounds of fighting around him seemed to be eliminated at this moment.

The two leaders did not have any conversation. They just raised their weapons and collided silently and firmly. Their goals were very clear:

Kill each other!

End the war!

It's a battle of strength against strength, skill against skill, experience against experience.

The iron horse knights roared and rushed forward to rescue Lothar, but the orc elites who followed Orgrim and rushed over were also unstoppable and wanted to protect the warchief.

Before the two could decide the winner, their guards and companions began to fight fiercely.

Lothar is old.

His Mediterranean hairstyle attests to this, and although he was as muscular as most orcs in his youth, his strength is far less than it was then.

This does not mean that Lothar is easy to deal with.

Because old men are always good at using experience and skills to make up for their shortcomings.

Orgrim has the advantage in this matchup.

He is taller, more powerful, and younger.

But if it's just these, it's not enough for him to win.

Both men were wearing heavy plate armor, they were exactly the same age, and they were exactly the same time-tested.

Storm armor versus black plate armor seems destined to trigger a legendary story.

The weapons in the hands of the two men were things that ordinary warriors had never seen before, let alone held. Just the legend of these two weapons is enough to write a story of thirty to forty thousand words.

Lothar held his ancestor's steel sword tightly in both hands, and his long sword swept across from under the warchief's shoulder, creating a crack in the orc's black plate armor.

The legendary warrior's power made the warchief grunt in pain.

The angry bloody light on his body danced even more, and he smashed the warhammer wrapped in anger in his hand, causing the ground to shatter.

Lothar took a precise step back to dodge the attack with agility that was completely inappropriate for his age. But Orgrim flipped his wrist at the same moment and swung the warhammer from bottom to top.

It almost grazed Lothar's chin and hit him, knocking his lion helmet away, allowing the marshal to block it with his horizontal sword.

The next hammer followed.

Orgrim roared, and after seizing the opportunity, he launched a series of destructive attacks towards Lothar, forcing Lothar to retreat continuously.

For a moment, the two legendary warriors used all their strength to turn the area around them into a place of death.

The weapons of the two collided, and their anger also collided.

The warchief gained the upper hand. At this moment, his inner desire for victory was even greater, and his attacks became more and more violent.

But Lothar looked embarrassed, but was actually very calm.

There were still scars on his face from being taken out just now. When the orcs wanted to break through, he quickly deflected the sword blade in his hand and successfully knocked the war hammer aside.

In the next moment, he flipped his wrist and struck out with a fierce suppression, hitting Orgrim in the face with the sword blade.

"Kacha"

The bridge of the chief's nose was instantly shattered, and the impact on his head almost made him faint.

Lothar turned his sword around and struck with a cleave, intending to behead the orc.

But Orgrim rolled on the spot in a disgraceful manner, and with blood spattering everywhere, he punched Lothar's armor with an angry punch, leaving a clear punch mark and blowing the The marshal was beaten until he bent over and vomited blood.

"Orcs! Get away!"

An angry roar sounded behind the war chief.

He didn't even look back and stepped back to the left, only to be missed by the sword coming from behind. In the orc's sneer, he turned around and kicked Varian Wrynn behind him who wanted to help Lothar.

He kicked the young king several meters away and knocked down several warriors.

"A kid has more courage than you."

Orgrim took off the cracked armor on his body, threw it aside, grasped the war hammer again, wiped the blood on his face, and said to Lothar, who straightened up in front of him:

"You are old, King of the Alliance!"

Lothar didn't respond, just gripped the hilt of the sword again.

The next moment, the two men roared and charged again.

Without the armor, Orgrim attacks faster, but Lothar is also more stable. The two legendary warriors approached again. Orgrim used his war hammer to push away his sword, and hit Lothar in the chest with another heavy punch.

The power of anger caused the old marshal to spit out hot blood when he opened his mouth, but at this moment he let go of the weapon, grabbed the fist that the chief wanted to withdraw with both hands, and turned it outwards.

"Kacha"

Lothar's fury was poured into this blow, making Orgrim's legendary body unable to withstand such an attack. As he screamed, all the bones in his arm were shattered by Lothar's blow. .

The terrible pain made Orgrim's eyes even more angry. The blood-red anger condensed into substance. He held the huge war hammer in one hand and smashed it towards Lothar.

This blow used all his brute force.

Just the strong wind when the war hammer was swung violently pushed away the people around him.

Lothar pulled out the sword next to him, and fell to the ground as ungracefully as Orgrim just now, leaning the sword in front of him, trying to block this vicious blow.

"哐"

Doomhammer and Stormka collided in the next moment.

The moment the power was transmitted, it shook the marshal's sword-holding arm out of joint, and the orc warchief's full blow struck the barbarian king's steel sword.

The pressure of the hammer head caused the sword blade to bend inward to a very dangerous arc.

It seems that the sword will be broken in the next moment.

but.

No.

In the end, it completely withstood Orgrim's final blow, transmitting the power of the war hammer to the earth, shattering the ground within a few meters around the two men into cracks.

The light in Orgrim's eyes dimmed, and he knew that he had lost his last chance.

And Lothar used his good right arm. The moment he turned over, he held the hilt of the steel sword behind him. Like a gangster fighting, he roared and threw Orgrim to the ground.

Then

"puff"

The legendary long sword of the Barbarian King sliced ​​open the warchief's neck in the next instant, penetrating directly into the flesh and blood. With Lothar's roar like an old lion, it cut through all the obstacles in front of him and slashed to the end.

Hot blood spurted out wildly.

The warchief's blood splashed all over Lothar, and then fell on the gray-white hammer head of the Doomhammer that smashed into the ground behind him, dyeing the chief's weapon blood red.

The soldiers on both sides stopped fighting, and the surroundings became quiet.

They watched the great chief fall to the ground, and then saw Marshal Lothar stand up unsteadily, using his last strength to lift the orc head high that was still roaring at the last moment.

Won

The Alliance wins!

Lothar won!

In the cheers, the old marshal's body swayed.

Amid the exclamations of Adjutant Turalyon, the extremely tired old marshal fell to the ground with a satisfied and calm smile. It happened to form a V shape with Orgrim's headless corpse.

——

"You are unparalleled in bravery, outstanding in combat skills, and defiant. You have won a lot of honors and committed countless massacres. What is even more valuable is that in addition to your strength, you do not lack wisdom and the courage to sacrifice yourself.

As a warrior alone, you are nearly perfect.

But I still think you still lack something

Your heart is filled with guilt.

To your tribe, to your friends, to your descendants, to your hometown, and to the enemies you once slaughtered."

In the hallucination after death, Orgrim Doomhammer heard a high voice that seemed to be commenting on his life.

This made the chief extremely dissatisfied.

Following his thoughts, he opened his eyes and looked at the black wolf Frostclaw walking towards him. He waved to his companion and turned his back to the person behind him.

He said in a tired and lonely voice:

"Whether I am a warrior or not, it is not your turn to judge whether I am perfect, God of Azeroth. This paradise of yours is beautiful, but unfortunately, it does not belong to me.

I heard the war song, which was the call of my true hometown.

Feel sorry.

But I have to get going soon. "