Necromancer in another world

Chapter 851 The Angry Furbolg

In Azshara's Timbermaw Stronghold leading to Winterspring, a large number of furbolgs are shuttling back and forth, looking busy.

Ragroel stood on the steps of the altar and kept directing his people. Forty or fifty furbolg shamans were assisting him near the altar.

The ceremony that is being held now is the inspiration that Ragroel got from the conversation with Leo. At a certain time, the people of the clan will be concentrated to dedicate their faith to the gods in order to obtain more gifts from the gods.

In order to hold this ceremony, Ragroel mobilized all the power in his hands, in order to ensure that the ceremony is large enough and the power of faith dedicated is enough. Ragroel even made the Timbermaw furbolgs abandon several surrounding villages .

Given the current situation of the Timbermaw furbolg, abandoning a few villages would be an extremely heavy loss. Once the ceremony is ineffective or even fails, the entire Timbermaw tribe will slide to the brink of extinction.

Ragroel is making a huge gamble, betting that the elemental gods will not give up the furbolgs who have always believed in them.

But how can mortals be able to guess the mind of the gods?
Don't look at Lagroll's calm face, but in fact he is extremely disturbed in his heart, because he can't afford to lose this big bet.

But Ragroel can't do without gambling. Given the current situation of the Timbermaw tribe, if there is no miracle, they can stand up for a year or two at most. Regret only after a single effort?
"Elder, the ceremony is ready."

"Then let's get started."

A few furbolg shamans led a group of young furbolgs who were waiting to become shaman priests away from the altar, make or break.

Seeing this, Ragrol felt even more nervous, and the old furbolg could only pray silently, hoping that the elemental gods would help them out of nostalgia and let the Timbermaw tribe get through this difficult time.

The power of faith is continuously conveyed to a certain mysterious place through rituals, and an invisible pressure descends on the heads of each Timbermaw furbolg.

The gods are paying attention to us!

Ragroll's eyes widened, and the most critical moment had arrived.

Must be successful!
The Timbermaw shamans cried out in their hearts, this bet concerns the survival of the entire tribe.

It is a pity that many things are independent of human will.

At some point, the more you expect things to work out, the more likely they will fail.

The furbolgs prayed devoutly, and the power of faith was continuously donated, but there was no change at all on the altar.

Ragroll and the furbolg shamans were anxious like ants on a hot pan.

What the hell are those elemental gods doing? We have already dedicated so much, so they don't give any divine grace?

The furbolg shamans were in a hurry, but the elemental gods who absorbed the power of faith were still there.

Now it's the furbolgs who are asking people, not them. Of course they don't care, but the elemental gods don't think about it. How much faith power do they have to get from the furbolgs for doing this?
As time went by, the furbolgs contributed less and less power of faith, and the coercion of the elemental gods gradually eased.

Ragroel's complexion changed. The reduction of the pressure of the gods was not because they rewarded the gods, but because they were leaving.

Absorbing the power of faith that can only be accumulated in ten years, but leaving without a trace of divine grace, how can this not be justified?

A bad premonition rose from Ragroel's heart.

I heard that the orcs are also trying to obtain the grace of God recently. Could it be that the gods have bestowed all the gifts on them?
So what are we Timbermaw tribe?
Now we are pointing to the gift of the gods to go too far. If this group of young people in the clan cannot be promoted to shaman successfully, even if we don't give up those villages, we will not be able to support them for a year.

The bears who participated in the ceremony stood up one by one. Except for the shaman, the other furbolgs were dumbfounded and didn't know what happened.

Seeing them looking around and not understanding anything, Ragroel felt a tightness in his chest, and he was about to spurt out a mouthful of blood.

"Why is this? Did the gods abandon us?"

A furbolg shaman hesitated to express his thoughts.

If the other shamans in the tribe didn't speak Ragroel before, they would attack them together, but now everyone is silent, because the Woodmaw tribe's abandonment by the gods seems to have become a fact.

"We have believed in you for countless years. It is we who have given you enough power of faith in the age of no one to believe in. It is our support for countless years that has made you gradually stronger. We regard you as spiritual pillars, but you are the ones we need the most. Why did you abandon us when you were helping us?"

Ragroel forced himself to swallow the blood in his mouth, the old bear roared at the altar, and all the furbolgs could feel the elder's anger.

For a believer to question the gods he believes in, how much wronged does he have to suffer, and how much resentment he has in his chest to do so?
The elder furbolg's words echoed in Timbermaw Fortress, and even the dullest bearman understood that a huge event had happened in the tribe—his tribe was abandoned by the gods they had believed in for thousands of years.

Why abandon us?
Because the elemental gods have found a race with greater potential and can contribute more power of faith to them—orcs!
What is the Timbermaw tribe that has served the elemental gods for thousands of years in the eyes of those elemental gods?
Is it garbage that can be thrown away after use?

Don't forget, if it weren't for our furbolg race's belief in you for thousands of years, how could you be where you are today? The four elemental lords would have killed you long ago.

"What bullshit gods, a bunch of ungrateful villains!"

A furbolg shaman roared and rushed up to the altar, waving his bear paws and beating the altar. The altar was destroyed.

All the furbolgs looked at the shaman, expecting the coming of divine punishment.

It wasn't that the Timbermaw furbolgs were vicious, and it wasn't that the shaman had caused so much anger in the clan that everyone wanted him to die, it was that the furbolgs wanted to know if the elemental gods had really abandoned them.

If the gods still pay attention to the Timbermaw tribe, then if someone destroys the altar to worship him, they will definitely impose divine punishment to demonstrate the authority of the god. If they give up the furbolg, the divine punishment will not happen.

"There is no divine punishment! There is no divine punishment... ah..."

The Timbermaw furbolgs were disappointed, Ragroel let out a pained cry, and spurted out a mouthful of blood.

The Woodmaw tribe, who had served the elemental gods for thousands of years, and the Woodmaw tribe who did not give up their belief in the elemental gods at the most difficult moment of the race, was just abandoned!
Moreover, after the elemental gods decided to abandon the Timbermaw tribe, they still had the face to absorb their dedicated power of faith!
betray!

What could be more infuriating than this vile betrayal?
What is more heartbreaking than this ruthless abandonment?
Anger was burning in the chests of the Woodmaw furbolgs, and the deep hatred wanted to burst their chests. The furbolgs all entered a state of madness with red eyes. Their furious, thick and powerful bear paws slapped the altar where their hopes were pinned just a moment ago.

The altar slowly cracked under the attack of the furbolgs, gradually shattered under their roar, and collapsed under their resentment, and finally stepped towards destruction under their madness... just like their belief in elemental gods.

"It's gone, it's gone..." Ragroel's eyes were blank, and the old bear man's spirit was sluggish. "Could it be that the Timbermaw tribe that has been passed down for thousands of years will be ruined by my hands?"

"No! It must not be like this!"

A burly figure of a bearman suddenly flashed in the mind of the elder furbolg, with a strong body, a mind as clever as a priest in the tribe, and the human man he called his master.

"Maybe this is the last hope of the tribe. Although there is only one contact, I have to give it a try anyway."

A drowning person would not let go even if he grasped at a straw. The Timbermaw furbolg was desperate at this time, and now Ragroel would not let go of any hope.

Leo didn't know that something big was about to happen, whether it was for the Timbermaw furbolg, for himself, for the entire human race, or for the entire world.

He had arrived at the Eagle's Nest in the Hinterlands when the sacrifice ceremony to the elemental gods was held at Timbermaw Hold.

It borders the Arathi Highlands in the south, Hillsbrad Hills and Alterac Mountains in the west, and the Eastern Plaguelands in the north. This is the Hinterlands, a dense forest belt with an extremely important geographical location.

In the dense deciduous forests of the Hinterlands, primitive oaks and maples can be seen everywhere, and most of these trees are ancient trees that have existed for thousands of years. landscape.

Surrounded by continuous and steep mountains, there is only one road to enter the Hinterlands from the land, and the Eagle's Nest Mountain is located at the end of this road.

The Wildhammer dwarves have inherited the dwarf's bold personality. They are wild and hospitable. They like to decorate their beards and hair with feathers and other bright items. They let Leo experience what enthusiasm is.At the banquet held to welcome Leo's arrival, in addition to Prince Caderos and Branigan, who was compared with Leo, many Wildhammer dwarves that Leo didn't know at all came to drink with him, Let Leo feel overwhelmed.

Seeing the enthusiasm of the dwarves, Leo secretly rejoiced. Fortunately, he came here after being promoted to a demigod. Alcohol had almost no effect on him. Otherwise, the enthusiasm of the Wildhammer dwarves would have to be poured down. .

Cuderos and Branigan didn't mention any business during the banquet, which allowed Leo enough time to observe the Eagle's Nest Hill.

As the capital of the Wildhammer dwarves, the city backed by Lake Darrowmere is deeply embedded in a huge mountain. Its image is like a giant griffin. Its eyes and nostrils are the passages connecting the city to the outside world. Through generations of Wildhammer dwarves, every feather of this griffin-shaped mountain city is clearly visible.

In terms of architectural structure, Eagle's Nest Mountain is roughly similar to Ironforge, but its buildings have no roofs. According to the Wildhammer dwarves, this allows them to see the sky so that they can practice driving griffins and throwing warhammers.

"A very nice city. This is a masterpiece of intelligent creatures transforming nature."

When Caderos asked about Leo's impression of Eagle's Nest Mountain, Leo gave an answer that made the dwarf prince very proud. Not long after Caderos left, a mental wave came from Leo's private space , it was the giant bear priest Nalorak who sent the mental fluctuations.

(End of this chapter)