Shadow Trails in Azeroth

Lightning and thunder thundered over the city of Dalaran, and burning bottles of fire were dropped on the buildings in the city, the flames representing chaos beating.

The first wave of low-altitude Troll Sky Knights has already rushed into the city. Their goal is clear. They control the giant eagles to attack the still-operating mage tower, covering the dragon eagles and spitting flames towards the ground.

Their number is not large enough to suppress the entire city, so creating chaos has become the main task of this troll vanguard.

In addition to the giant eagle and dragon eagle, the troll invaders also have powerful reinforcements.

The black knight's caster Haas also guided the bone dragon Nightmare to rush down from high altitude. The bone dragon, which exuded a burning aura, destroyed a small mage tower in the first wave after the violet barrier was broken. .

Amid the collapsing buildings and chaotic tumbling magic power, the Nightmare, filled with death rage, spat out a breath of dragon's breath mixed with high-temperature smoke and dust at the mages who hurriedly evacuated, burning several mages alive.

These sudden invaders caused a massacre near the city gate, and then rushed into the city in response to the Amani War Bear troops from the rear. This process was almost unstoppable.

The mages who could still gather in the city had gathered outside the city, trying to expel the elemental god Garvazt released by the snake people.

"Well, this is how disasters often happen. Blessings never come in pairs, and misfortunes never come alone, haha."

On the other side of the city, near the Silverpine Forest, on a hillside, an old orc wearing a tattered cloak was looking toward Dalaran, holding a staff that shone with black light.

His cloudy eyes reflected the city ravaged by thunder and lightning. Although his withered voice contained a smile, there was no sarcasm, let alone contemptuous ridicule.

There was just fatigue in that voice.

It's like a walking dead that has been drained of all its energy and vitality by the cruel life, living just to live, without goals and expectations.

There is no hope and no disappointment.

The strong wind whipped up by Dalaran was blocked by trees in the forest, and the old orc's hood blew open, revealing an old face painted with a white skull.

This kind of facial drawing represents the emblem of the Exile among the extinct Shadowmoon clan.

But this old orc was not exiled by others. He chose self-exile full of despair after his final efforts to save the race failed.

He should have died of old age in the Shadowmoon Valley necropolis that had been completely contaminated by evil energy and no longer had any life. That was the ending he chose for himself.

But Talon Gorefiend found him, claiming that the defeated orcs needed his wisdom and strength.

The Blood Demon did not give him a chance to refuse, so the old orc followed the other chiefs to this strange world and came to the city of Dalaran, preparing to take advantage of the chaos to rush into the city and snatch things that were crucial to the orc's survival.

At least that's what Tarongor claimed.

"Ner'zhul! How long do we have to wait?"

While the old orc looked calmly and silently at the city of Dalaran ravaged by thunder in front of him, the orc warlocks and death knights who followed him here were already a little impatient.

A fire seal warlock under Red Blackhand shouted rudely and without any respect:

"That force we don't recognize has rushed into Dalaran. What they can do, we can do too! The chiefs are fighting to the death in Lordaeron to buy us time. We can't waste this precious opportunity. Wasted here!

My warchief requires us to plunder enough loot, but I carry a 'plunder indicator' on my back! You can't get anything by staying here! "

The warlock's shout immediately resonated with others, and a group of rough beastmen hiding in the forest suddenly started making noises.

But the old orc Ner'zhul was unmoved.

He didn't even look back at the guys who were making trouble. He just held his staff and continued to enjoy the scene of the Magic City being ravaged by lightning.

It wasn't until the orcs at the rear quieted down that the old orc said in a thick voice:

"Be patient, you little brats, you'll be fine soon."

"What's almost ready?"

The previously noisy warlock asked with a bit of uncontrollable anger. Ner'zhul did not answer, as if he was too lazy to pay attention to him, until more than ten seconds later, a exclamation sounded from the back of the team.

It was an orc warlock apprentice who ran out to pee. He didn't even bother to pull up his pants and stumbled back, as if he had seen something terrifying.

He pointed his trembling fingers behind him, his mouth wide open but no words came out.

In fact, he didn't need to say that other orcs had also seen the "weird things" appearing in the quiet forest in the afternoon.

A body of an orc soldier with no head and rotten flesh and blood was staggering out of the woods, dragging a rotten axe.

The armor it wears is the style of the old tribe. This is an orc who died in this forest half a year ago or even earlier.

Its body was covered with mud, as if it had dug its own grave and crawled out of it.

This half-corrupted orc is only the first.

Behind it, there is a dense "death army" advancing. These are soldiers who died in this forest, including orcs and humans.

There are even dwarves and gnomes.

They died in various strange ways, some were already decayed, some were still generally intact, some were wrapped in tattered cloth, and some were wearing neat burial armor.

These corpses made strange noises as they walked in the forest, rustling like large pieces of marionettes.

Their movements were weird and terrifying. Under the command of one force and the same will, they staggered past the frightened young warlocks, and then gathered around the death knights under the blood demon.

In just a few minutes, this slightly thin team of Dalaran raiders swelled to thousands of people!

The Burning Blade Warlock who had spoken provocatively just now covered his mouth tightly and looked at the old orc in front of him with a look of horror that he could not straighten his waist, his clothes were shabby, and his expression was lifeless, as if he could be knocked down by a gust of wind.

It wasn't until this moment that he realized why the powerful chiefs had left the attack on Dalaran to this down-and-out orc who didn't look powerful at all.

This is actually normal.

At this young warlock's age, Ner'zhul's era of prestige had already ended before he knew what he was doing.

Orcs of their age have rarely heard of the lofty status of the Shadowmoon clan in the Draenor orc civilization. Before the rise of the Warlock School, the shaman prophet was the most powerful and only spellcaster in the orc civilization.

The Shadowmoon clan, rich in shamans and prophets, was once the highest-ranking group of Draenor orcs.

Shadow Moon shamans and prophets inherit the ancient mysterious spiritism. They can communicate with the souls of the dead and summon the power of the dead to fight. They are also proficient in astrology and can make predictions about the future from the changes in the positions of the stars. prophecy.

When Ner'zhul was young, he was the recognized leader of the orcs throughout Draenor.

Even the ambitious Gul'dan had to humbly call himself the apprentice of the down-and-out old orc in front of him before the formation of his Shadow Council.

Ner'zhul was indeed broken by his past ignorance, Gul'dan's betrayal, and the depravity of the orcs, and turned into an old guy like a walking zombie, but this does not mean that his power has faded.

In fact, after being unable to stop the tribe's degeneration and being abandoned by the souls of the ancestors, Ner'zhul, who was self-exiled in the Shadowmoon Cemetery and wanted to die, became much more sophisticated in his understanding of the concept of death than before.

Just like now.

Ner'zhul relied on his own power to awaken all the newly buried corpses under half of the Silverpine Forest into soldiers without the other warlocks noticing at all.

He alone is an army.

The reason why Talon Gorefiend must win over Ner'zhul is not only to seek a way out with the help of the old orc's power, but also partly because he is plotting the mysterious knowledge of death mastered by the old orc.

Talon Gorefiend had recognized the flaws in the death knights created by Gul'dan.

He is trying to fill in the last flaws of the profession. It's a pity that the Shadowmoon clan was almost wiped out when the tribe massacred the world of Draenor.

Ner'zhul is probably the only person left with the precious knowledge about the power of death passed down in that clan.

This is Du Miao Miao, precious egg.

"Let's go and finish this."

The staff in the old orc's hand waved forward, and the Blood Demon death knights silently urged their horses. Carrying ferocious heavy weapons, they used the shadow magic in their bodies to urge Ner'zhul's awakened corpses, injecting them with dark power. Strength makes them faster and more violent.

The warlocks who were frightened by Ner'zhul's little "show of a hand" followed the death knights dejectedly and rushed towards Dalaran.

These guys with the "Plunder Indicators" on their backs didn't even dare to look at the old orc, let alone complain to Ner'zhul.

Warlocks are such a group of people who bully the weak and fear the strong.

However, Ner'zhul did not pay attention to the arrogance and courtesy of these guys. He had lived in this life for too long. He had reached the top and fallen into the trough, and even witnessed the destruction of a world with his own eyes.

There weren't many things that could affect his mind.

"Ahem"

After all the death knights and warlocks left, old Ner'zhul slowly leaned on his staff and turned over to ride on a Lunar Warg who was as old as him.

He was about to leave the forest and go to Dalaran, but after taking a few steps, he tightened the reins.

He coughed and said:

"Do you want my life? Human assassin, come on, kill me, I won't resist."

"Ah, for an old man, your hearing is really good."

Black, who was rushing to Dalaran, appeared from the branch behind Ner'zhul. He sat on the branch, looked at the old orc in front of him, whistled, and said in pure orc language:

"I really didn't expect to see a legend like you here, especially before you sat on that throne. It's such an honor.

I heard that when you were in your glory, the orcs also called you 'Prophet'. So who is more powerful between you and Velen? "

"Of course Viren."

Old Ner'zhul chuckled and said:

“They drank the blood of fel energy and established a tribe, vowing to cleanse the Draenei from the world of Draenor. They regarded the exiles as a stubborn disease of the world.

The entire tribe came out to sweep the world. It took them so long, but they still couldn't find the draenei's hiding place.

Velen used his ability to predict the future to protect his people well.

His reputation as a prophet was well deserved.

He is much more qualified than me. "

"You mean, the performance of the Draenei, who were crushed by a tribal civilization that was at least a thousand years behind them, is still remarkable? No, right?

You should know that the draenei's non-resistance policy came from Velen, right? "

Blake pouted and said:

"They have been running away for too long. When escaping becomes a habit, courage becomes a derogatory term. I don't see how Viren is better than you. I can only say that you two are evenly matched.

They are all third-rate prophets who failed to protect their people. How can they compare to me, a real prophet?

Look, everything you see before you is my handiwork.

Is that burning city beautiful?

It was arranged by me. "

"Tsk, tsk, then it seems that I really met a 'big shot' today."

Ner'zhul turned around and looked at Black with a pair of cloudy eyes on his face painted with white skulls. He said:

"So, Your Majesty the Prophet, when you are being hunted, you still take the time to chat with me, a dying old man. What do you want to get from me?

I have nothing left but regret and despair. "

"Okay, let's not talk secretly!"

Black jumped down from the branch and landed lightly next to Ner'zhul. His nose moved, and he smelled a smell from the old orc in front of him.

A smell of decay.

Just like it is said that crows can smell the breath of dying people, Blake was sure at this moment that Ner'zhul in front of him was indeed not long gone.

"I want the knowledge in your head!"

The pirate stretched out his left hand and said:

"About the knowledge of 'death aura'. Don't tell me you don't understand, and don't pretend to be stupid. I saw clearly the scene when you summoned the dead just now. It was not a magic effect.

Only a fool would think it was the evil magic of a warlock.

It is the purest aura of death that induces the natural resurrection of corpses, and it is an undisclosed secret guarded by the psychic lords of the Maldraxxus Soul Selection Academy!

The ancient inheritance of the Shadow Moon Clan really has something to it. "

Hearing these words, especially the titles of Maldraxxus, Soulchosen Chamber, and Necrolord, Ner'zhul's expression suddenly changed. He narrowed his eyes and stared at the pirate. After a few seconds, he said:

"Your price is too high! Especially for a desperate person, you are asking for the last important thing from me, but you are not even willing to give it to me."

"Don't be too busy refusing. Listen to the reward I'll give you. Everyone who knows me calls me 'The Generous' Black."

The pirate winked and said:

"Not only can I make a 'prophecy' for you for free, but I can also sell you a 'regret medicine'."