Azeroth Shadow Trail

   Chapter 244 63. Damn Odin thinks you are still lacking

   Orgrim did not expect that there would be such "strong support" on the Alliance side.

   But he has gone too far.

   He has brought the last elite that he had carefully prepared for this battle, and took advantage of the most chaotic moment of the battle, like a sharp knife, inserted into the battlefield.

   Brave Brox accompanied him.

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

   But when those golden Valkyries fell in the sky, the warchief knew that he lost and the tribe lost.

   There is no possibility of a comeback.

   For a moment, the Great Chief wanted to take the absolute elite behind him, smash through the alliance's defense line, 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 Shattered Hand, and then form a horde army to kill this world.

   This failure may only be temporary.

   But this idea, before it stayed in his mind for more than a second, was completely abandoned by Orgrim.

   Because he saw the person in front of him!

  Anduin Lothar!

  The commander of the alliance, although not the king, but the old man who can fully be called "the king of the alliance", is riding a horse, leading his knights to charge under the streamer of the sky.

  I was less than two hundred meters away from him.

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

   If he leaves this time, even if he comes back in the future, it is absolutely impossible to have such an opportunity again.

   "Brocks!"

  Orgrim pulled the reins of the Wolf Warrior, swung the warhammer, and flew out of the side of an assassin who was about to attack him, spitting blood and flying backwards.

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

   he shouted in Orcish:

   "Take this elite team! Find your brother and break out! These warriors will be your clan in the future, Brox, and you will be their chief!

   Go back to Draenor or stay in Azeroth.

   The last elite of the tribe cannot be buried in this inevitable battle. "

   "Don't think about it!"

   The orc warrior wielding a huge axe easily harvested the heads of the surrounding enemies. His combat skills are so skilled and his strength is so great that every move will bring devastating blows to the enemy.

   The orc warlord named Brox laughed, he didn't seem to care about the outcome of the tribe's loss.

   While enjoying the joy of battle, he said to the Great Chief:

   "I said I would follow you to the end, Warchief. I'm a warrior, and you're trying to get me to give up my oath.

   You're trying to turn me into a jerk.

   Do you think I will agree?

  I've lost my glory, and I don't want to lose my oath again. "

   "Let you go! Just go!"

  Orgrim still didn't turn his head, he just tightened the reins of the Wolf Warrior. The moment he approached Brox, he whispered:

   "As we retreated from the North, Drek'Thar told me that the child of Durotan, the bloodline of the Frostwolf clan, may still be alive"

"Um?"

  Brox, who was enjoying the battle, suddenly stopped waving his battle axe, which gave the human paladin an opportunity to take advantage.

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

  Easy and freehand.

   is like a warrior **** among mortals.

"If I die"

  The Great Chief stared at Lothar, and said in a deep voice:

   "Find Guy for me, watch him grow up for me, tell him stories about me, about us, about our mistakes, about our hometown, about our fall.

If I die.

  Brox, raise that child for me, crown him with the title of warchief for me, guide him for me, and retrieve the glory we have thrown away.

  This is your new vow!

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

   Swear it.

   There must be a warchief defeated here, otherwise humans will not stop chasing and killing!

   Swear it.

   Just do it for me.

  Brocks! swear! Do you still want me to beg you! ! "

"I swear!"

   The orc warlord clenched his teeth, and after a few seconds, he shouted:

   "I will defend him with my life, just as I chose to follow you all my life, Warchief. Farewell!"

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

   They swear to the death.

   Orgrim glanced back, he laughed and continued to lunge towards Lothar.

In the next instant, a sharp arrow flew, and it whistled with six magical arrows. While Orgrim blocked the arrows with his warhammer, those magical arrows still stabbed, and the Warg who would accompany him for a long time. pierce.

   The Great Chief fell over in a woeful manner. He stood up and swung his warhammer to knock down the surrounding enemies, and then he half-kneeled beside his dying war wolf.

   He stretched out his hand and stroked the ears and eyes of the black wolf.

He says:

   "Find the way for me, Frostpaw, I'll come later."

   "Ow"

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

   "Bah"

   The warchief spat rudely towards his side, grabbed his Doomhammer in both hands, and stood up.

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

  Lothar saw him too.

   In the next instant, two warriors and two leaders charged towards each other at the same time.

  Lothar rides on a heavily armed steed, clearly having an advantage.

   Marshal's guards are called Iron Horse Knights. They are elites formed by 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 more impact, allowing him to finish his opponents neatly.

   But Orgrimmar quickly solved the problem.

   At the moment Lothar charged, the warhammer in his hand drew an arc while the Warchief dodged beside him.

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

The beast didn't even utter a scream, and collapsed with its head shattered. The iron armor used to protect the horse's head was torn by the hollow of the hammer, and a fountain of blood was sprayed from its broken bones. come out.

   Its limbs twitched to the ground.

   But Lothar did not fall.

   He jumped down the moment the warhorse was killed, rolled around on the ground, held the violent steel sword of the Barbarian King, and hit Orgrim with a standard and powerful lethal blow.

   "clang"

   The sound of the collision of two legendary weapons made the surrounding orcs and humans covered their ears and retreated.

   The sounds of battle around him seemed to be muted at this moment.

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

  Kill each other!

   End the war!

   This is a contest of strength and power, skill and skill, experience and experience.

  The iron horse knights roared and rushed to rescue Lothar, but the elite orcs who rushed over with Orgrim were also unstoppable to protect the warchief.

  Before the two could decide the winner, their guards and partners started a tragic fight first.

  Lothar is old.

   His Mediterranean hairstyle proves this, and while he was as strong as most orcs even when he was young, his strength is far less than it was then.

   That doesn't mean Lothar is easy to deal with.

  Because old men are always good at making up for their shortcomings with experience and skills.

  Orgrim has the advantage in this matchup.

   He was taller, more powerful, and younger.

   But that's not enough for him to win.

   Both were wearing heavy plate armor, the same old age, and the same time-tested.

   Tempest armor against black plate armor seems destined to spark a legendary story.

   The weapons in the hands of the two were never seen by ordinary warriors in their entire lives, let alone held. Just the legend of these two weapons is enough to write a story of 30,000 or 40,000 words.

  Lothar clenched the steel sword of his ancestors in both hands, and his long sword swept under the shoulders of the warchief, cutting a gap in the orc's black plate armor.

  The power of the legendary warrior made the warchief groan in pain.

   The anger and blood on his body danced even more, and he smashed the warhammer wrapped in anger in his hand, and the ground shattered.

  Lothar took a precise step back to avoid the attack with agility that did not match his age. But Orgrim turned his wrist at the same moment and swung the hammer from the bottom up.

   almost wiped Lothar's chin and hit him, knocking out his lion helmet and letting the marshal's sword block.

   The next hammer followed.

   Orgrim roared, and after seizing the fighter, he launched a series of destructive offensives towards Lothar, forcing Lothar to retreat again and again.

   For a moment, the two legendary warriors exerted all their strength, turning the area around them into a dead place.

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

  The Great Chief had the upper hand, and at this moment his inner thirst for victory became even more violent, and his attacks became more violent.

   But Lothar looked embarrassed, but was actually very calm.

   His face still has the scars that were brought out just now. When the orc wanted to break through, he quickly deflected the blade in his hand and successfully shook the warhammer aside.

   In the next instant, he flipped his wrist and struck out with a savage suppressing blow, hitting Orgrim in the face with the blade of his sword.

   "click"

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

  Lothar turned his sword back and slashed with a slash, intending to decapitate the orc.

But Orgrim rolled on the spot in a very disgraceful manner, and in the blood splashing, wrapped in an angry fist, hit Lothar's armor, leaving a clear fist mark at the same time, The marshal bent down and vomited blood.

   "Orcs! Go away!"

   An angry roar sounded behind the warchief.

   He didn't look back at all, he took a step to the left and let the big sword from behind cut through the air. In the sneer of the orc, he turned around and kicked Varian Wrynn behind him who wanted to help Lothar.

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

   "A little brat is more courageous than you."

  Orgrim took off the torn armor and threw it aside. He clenched the warhammer again, wiped the blood from his face, and said to Lothar, who stood upright in front of him:

   "You are old, King of the Alliance!"

  Lothar didn't respond, just clenched the hilt again.

   The next moment, the two roared and charged.

   Without the armor, Orgrim attacks faster, but Lothar is also more composed. The two legendary warriors approached again, and Orgrim slashed the sword with his warhammer, and another heavy punch hit Lothar in the chest.

The power of   's anger blessing made the old marshal spit out blood when he opened his mouth, but he let go of his weapon at this moment, clasped the fist that the Great Chief wanted to withdraw with both hands, and turned outward fiercely.

   "click"

Lothar's anger was fully blessed on this blow, making Orgrim's legendary body unable to withstand such an attack. In his screams, the bones of his entire arm were shattered by Lothar's blow. .

   The terrifying pain made Orgrim's eyes even more angry, the blood-red anger condensed into substance, and he held the huge warhammer in one hand and smashed it down towards Lothar.

   This blow unleashed the brute force of his entire body.

   It was just the gust of wind when the warhammer was swung, and it pushed the surrounding people away.

  Lothar drew the sword beside him, and fell to the ground disgracefully like Orgrim just now, leaning the long sword in front of him, trying to block the fierce blow.

  “哐”

   Doomhammer and Stromka collided in the next instant.

The    power was transmitted for a moment, and the arm of the marshal holding the sword was dislocated, and the full blow of the orc chieftain blessed the steel sword of the barbarian king.

  The hammer head pressed the blade into a very dangerous arc.

   It seems that in the next instant, this sword will be interrupted.

but.

No.

  It finally completely withstood Orgrim's last blow, channeling the power of the warhammer to the ground, smashing the ground within a few meters around the two into cracks.

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

   On the other hand, Lothar used his intact right arm to stand up, holding the hilt of his steel sword instead, roaring and throwing Orgrim to the ground like a gangster fighting move.

Then

   "Poof"

  The legendary long sword of the barbarian king, in the next instant, cut the neck of the warchief, straight into the flesh, and in the roar of the old lion of Lothar, it cut off all the barriers in front of him and cut it to the end.

   Hot blood spurted out.

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

  The warriors 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 staggeringly, using his last strength to lift the Orc's head that was still roaring at the last moment.

Won

   The alliance won!

  Lothar wins!

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

   In the exclamation of Adjutant Turalyon, the exhausted 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 and excellent in combat skills. You have looked down on you, won a lot of glory, and made countless massacres. What is even more commendable is that in addition to strength, you do not lack wisdom and the courage to sacrifice yourself.

   As a warrior alone, you are almost perfect.

   But I still think that you are still lacking

   Your heart is full of guilt.

   To the clan, to the friends, to the younger generation, to your hometown, to the enemies you slaughtered.”

In the hallucinations after    death, Orgrim Doomhammer heard a high-pitched voice that seemed to comment on his life.

   This made the Warchief extremely dissatisfied.

   He opened his eyes and looked at the black wolf Frostpaw walking towards him. He waved to his companion and turned his back to the man behind him.

   said in a tired and lonely voice:

   "Whether I am a warrior, whether I am perfect, is not up to you to judge, God of Azeroth. Your heaven is beautiful, but alas, it does not belong to me.

   I heard the battle song, the true hometown is calling.

Feel sorry.

   But I have to leave soon. "

   (end of this chapter)