Shadow Trails in Azeroth

This was the last sniper arrow I could shoot. I was aiming for Old Dahl's head, but it hit the devil, so it's not a miss.

Down in the valley.

The pale-faced Halduron Brightwing thrust the bow into Maris's hand.

Feeling a little embarrassed, he turned to the three young men beside him and a timid little dwarf riding on a weird mechanical bird and said:

I can only help you up to this point, the rest is up to you!

to be honest.

It is really unreasonable for a high-level ranger to miss at such an important moment.

But considering that the unconscious half-orc swordmaster was being tied up tightly and thrown at the feet of Halduron, no one could blame Halduron for losing his hand.

Just now, this ranger killed a real sword master head-on! And Halduron Brightwing's thighs are not even as thick as the half-orc sword master's arms!

And when he opened his bow and shot an arrow, Blake could see clearly.

The ranger's arms were shaking. For a high-level ranger who had trained for hundreds of years, this kind of trembling was a huge mistake at any time.

Unless he has really fought to the limit.

The elf chain armor on Mingyi's body was completely cut open, and there was an outward wound on the ranger's chest. If it were deflected just a few inches, his heart would be cut open.

Except for this war bow, all the weapons in his hand were destroyed in the battle with the Fire Blade Saint Lantrisso.

No one could ask for better from him.

Kelsey, protect Mingyi!

Without any hesitation, Blake said something to the little pink-haired gnome riding on the mechanical bird that was buzzing and looking ready to explode at any moment, with black smoke coming out of the exhaust pipe.

He grabbed the Master Blade of the Half-Orc Sword Master on the ground and threw it to the lame Maris next to him. The latter took it in his hand and held it tightly with both hands.

As a ranger, Marius is skilled in the use of this two-handed sword, although he dislikes such heavy weapons.

Xiao, who was next to him, took out three bottles of red potion from his bag and threw them to Blake and Maris. He opened one himself and drank it as if he were drinking wine.

It must have tasted terrible, as you could tell by the way Shore's face twitched together.

But this potion is definitely a good thing.

Blake twisted it open and ran towards the direction where Old Dahl fell, pouring the potion into his mouth and vomiting!

There's a light shining!

Maris, who had the best eyesight, pointed to the place where the old sword master fell in front of him and shouted. Blake and Shore, who were retching, looked up at the same time and saw green light shining in the woods ahead.

It was the light of fel energy, the magic of the warlock.

Prepare sniper arrows!

Blake ripped off the tide charm from his chest, threw out the hook lock without looking back, grabbed Shore and ran forward. Under his roar, Maris immediately pushed himself up.

He raised the battle bow that Mingyi had given him and pulled out the last two arrows from the quiver on his back.

Xiaoer, we have to fight hard.

The moment he landed, Blake turned to the serious-looking Mathias Shore beside him and said:

We may really die this time. There may be a great warlock in front of us.

Tonight, don't we have to fight hard enough?

Shore finally smiled for the first time.

This guy grinned, revealing his standard eight teeth. He held both blades in his backhand and jumped into the shadows. The moment he disappeared, he said:

It's an honor to fight alongside you, Orc Slayer!

I'm not honored at all.

Blake moved his neck and jumped into the shadows. He held the tide charm in his hand, threw out the hook lock again, jumped forward, and said softly:

I still have so many things I want to do, and I won't fall here.

In the forest ahead.

The green evil fire is burning, just like steel shaped by high temperature. Under the miraculous control, the violent and corrosive magic is bent into an oval door.

There are also evil decorations like sheep bones around it, which are of course just magical effects.

However, warlocks like to play such tricks to express their evil and not easy to mess with, but the essence of this thing is actually something borrowed from the mages' portal.

Because the violent evil energy is far less easy to control than the arcane magic power on the order side, the distance traveled by the warlocks' Shadow Gate back and forth is very short.

A few hundred meters is the limit.

To be honest, apart from the small consumption of magic power, this is a very useless magic.

But now, this useless magic has become the death knight's best way to get back his loot. He is riding on the saddle of a warhorse that has been stripped of flesh and blood by shadow magic, leaving only the skeleton.

Just like the villain appears, holding his own steel scepter in his hand, he walks out of the shadow door.

He was followed by four of his own warlocks.

There were originally five of them, but one unlucky guy was sent away as a sacrifice when he summoned the Doomsday Guard, but the Death Knight didn't feel bad at all.

Outstanding warlocks are hard to find, but there are plenty of these second-rate scum in the Shadow Council. They are all cannon fodder in his eyes that can be sacrificed at will.

And even if they just witnessed a companion being sacrificed as cannon fodder, the remaining four warlocks still will never abandon their superiors.

They believe in a cruel value.

I think the weak are not worth caring about. Only those who survive are the strong. No matter what the reason is, it doesn't matter. After all, you are the weak!

And they survived.

So they are strong!

At least they will be strong until they are sent away for some inexplicable damn reason next time!

These are all a bunch of lunatics whose heads have been burned by evil energy!

And now, the guy who is leading these brain-burned warlocks to look for trophies is the leader of all the death knights currently owned by the tribe.

His name is Tarongor, and he is a disciple of the great warlock Gul'dan.

He should have had a very bright future, especially in the early days of the invasion of Azeroth, after the Shadow Council ousted the first warchief Blackhand, the warlocks of the Shadow Council were the real leaders of the entire tribe.

But it's a pity.

This situation was under control, but there was a little problem along the way.

Gul'dan was driven by his inner greed and sought some power that he should not seek, causing the great warlock to be in a coma for a period of time, during which time the tribe was turned upside down.

The puppet warchief Blackhand was killed one-on-one by the challenger of the Blackstone Clan, his former comrade and brother, Orgrim Doomhammer, in the ancient glory duel of Ma'gora.

It was a decent ending for the shameful chief who had brute strength but no wisdom.

But Orgrim missed his former brother, but he killed the Shadow Council commanded by Gul'dan.

This group of warlocks died without regrets. After all, they were the culprits who destroyed the world of Draenor, the homeland of the orcs. They were the leaders of the tragedy of the orcs manipulated by the demons of the Burning Legion far away in the stars.

Tarongor died in this internal purge.

He was killed by his own people.

Death is extremely humiliating.

But now, he lives.

The evil mentor Gul'dan, who had escaped Orgrim's life through his smooth talk, was awakened from death and given a deceptive new name called Blood Demon.

Bring him here!

The Blood Demon walked out of the shadow door from the top of the mountain to the valley, and at a glance he saw Old Dar, the three-level blood blade, lying in a pool of blood not far away.

It was a rare thing that the old orc was still awake.

But he no longer has the strength to swing the sword, but he is still holding on to his flaming blade in his hand. The burning sword seems to be protecting his master.

As the warlocks approached, the elemental fire on it rose more violently.

This made the onlookers' blood demon flash a trace of greed in his dry eyes.

The legendary weapon of the Burning Blade Clan, the flaming blade Sankesu that only the true Supreme Swordmaster is qualified to wield, that is the legend of Draenor!

Just like the Doomhammer in Orgrim's hand, and the Gorehowl in Grom Hellscream's hand.

Not just Old Dahl's body.

His weapon will also belong to me, and I will transform it into a death blade, a death blade that belongs only to me, and that will be my new source of power.

In the end, even Gul'dan will kneel before me!

The death knight who liked to think too much couldn't bear the joyful thoughts in his heart. He watched the four warlocks lift Old Dahl from the headless body of the Horror and walked towards him.

The Blood Demon couldn't help but let out a hoarse and decadent laugh, and Old Dahl, who was conscious but unable to fight anymore, had despair in his eyes at this time.

He is not afraid of death!

But now, after seeing the Blood Demon appear with his own eyes, the old warrior realized that he would face torture and humiliation more terrible than death.

If I had known this, I should have died in the battle with Muradin and Pasonia just now.

At least that way, he will die as a warrior.

At least that way, he will die with some glory.

Although, he is no longer worthy of the word glory.

The loyal old swordsman Jubel thought he was saving his chief, but he didn't know that his loyalty would send Old Dahl into a situation worse than death.

His soul will fall into the hands of sorcerers who play with souls.

His body will also be desecrated as a weapon by these disgusting dogs, and even the glorious Flame Blade Sankesu, the inherited sacred object of the Flame Blade, will be humiliated by this.

You little bastard, come out!

After the Blood Demon was transformed into a death knight, his strength was no longer as powerful as it once was, but he was still a strong man, and even when he was proud of himself, he did not lose his awareness of his surroundings.

After noticing the shadow thing, he waved his scepter, and a blast of warlock magic struck behind him, forcing the approaching Shaw out of the shadows. The young assassin wanted to attack.

But amidst the blood demon's ferocious laughter, a green magic hit Xiao Er, causing the assassin to hold his head and scream, turn around and run away.

Fear spell.

The warlock's masterpiece.

But it's not over yet.

Whoosh

The assassination arrow flew straight towards the Blood Demon, but the death knight didn't care. He raised his head and caught it carelessly, just like a random arrow.

The arrow pierced the blood demon's head.

But it didn't hurt the blood demon's soul at all. The latter laughed loudly and raised his scepter, swinging it down fiercely. A green light of death rushed out of the woods and hit Maris, knocking him away. go out.

But these two people were just targets to distract the blood demon.

The real assassin.

Buzz

In the center of the four orc warlocks, the roar of the tide erupted like a phantom sound. The four warlocks were stunned at the same time, and Black, holding a blade fist, emerged from the shadows with an indifferent expression.

It was falling on Old Dahl's body.

He met the old sword master's eyes. As he guessed, the tidal spell had no effect on the legendary sword master with an extraordinary body.

But at this moment, Blake saw clearly.

Old Dahl's eyes changed from shock to calmness, and at the last moment, there was even a kind of prayer.

kill him!

He was asking Black, the orc killer, to kill him!

Give him the last bit of dignity!

He would rather die in the hands of human beings as his enemy, and return to his hometown in the name of dying in battle.

Nor did he want to fall into the hands of the dogs of the Shadow Council and have his soul toyed with and his remains humiliated.

as you wish.

As if in response, amidst the roar of the blood demon and the burst of evil energy, Blake clasped his blade fists with both hands, half-knelt on Old Dar's chest, and stabbed downwards.

puff

The warrior's blood spurts out.