Azeroth Shadow Trail

   Chapter 242 61. Under the watchful eyes of the gods, let the blood reach the sky

   "The weather today is a little weird."

   In the early morning of the next day, Marshal Lothar, under the **** of a group of iron horse knights, turned over and mounted his majestic warhorse fully armed. He stretched out his hand to take the battle helmet handed over by Adjutant Turalyon, and glanced at the sky again.

   said something casually.

   Everyone nodded in unison.

   It’s not intentional flattery, it’s true that the weather is a little weird today.

  In the past, the sky of the Burning Plain was always hazy, which was related to the tragic past of this place.

   More than two hundred years ago, at the end of the War of the Three Hammers, the black iron dwarves who were united by Bronzebeard and Wildhammer to a desperate situation, in order to save their race, desperately summoned terrifying monsters from outside the world.

  The Flame Demon King, who broke out of the elemental realm, took less than ten minutes to turn two-thirds of the originally beautiful and fertile Redridge Mountains into today's burning plains and searing canyons.

  The large magma pool created by the Balrog King almost destroyed the underground structure of the Burning Plain, and also caused Blackrock Mountain to become a volcano that could erupt at any time.

  Heavy volcanic ash fluttered in the sky all day, blocking the sunlight and making it very hazy.

   But today is different.

   seems to indicate the glorious victory that the alliance will achieve today. The weather today is very good, as if the hand of the gods plucked from the sky, sweeping away all the haze.

   The nascent sunlight shone on the Union soldiers who had already lined up, reflecting a dazzling and cold light.

   The phalanx of the human heavy cavalry at the front neighed, and their flags fluttered.

   On their left flank is the steam tank troop of the dwarves. Those short, irritable muscle monsters are carrying muskets, holding battle axes and warhammers, sitting on the tanks, ready to follow the human cavalry and rush into the battlefield.

   The right wing is the caster square.

  The phoenix mages of Quel'Thalas have prepared magic circles for cluster casting, and the spellcasters of Dalaran will not let the elves specialize in the former, they use the structure.

  The tall golems made of stone are over five meters each, and they are being supplied by the magicians for the last time, and then they can rush into the battlefield and slaughter the orcs.

  The phalanx of human infantry is the largest, and these armies from various kingdoms stand on their own positions under the command of their respective generals.

   They have no warhorses, no tanks, no magic, only swords and shields.

   They are so ordinary.

   But these are the most ordinary warriors, who have never succumbed to the berserk orcs in the past six years. They used their bodies and flesh to support the alliance to this final counterattack moment.

  More than 100,000 warriors of all ethnic groups gathered here, occupying the plain under the Black Rock Mountain.

  The atmosphere of the entire battlefield was chilling to the extreme, and the Knights of the Silver Hand who served as the reserve team also began their last prayers before the battle under this solemnity.

   The brilliance of the Holy Light shines in front of the formation.

   The priests of the Holy Light who acted with the rangers in the rear also answered this prayer.

  A large piece of golden light swayed on the coalition army formation, and the priests blessed the infantry with the most powerful holy light blessing they could release.

   "You should stay in camp, Varian."

   Marshal Lothar rode his warhorse and came to the front of the battle. He turned his head and glanced at Varian Wrynn, who was wearing a storm armor with eagle shoulder armor. He said softly:

   "This is war, not the place for a kid like you."

   "Marshal, I know this is war."

  Varian, who was almost sixteen years old, raised his head and said in a sonorous tone to Marshal Lothar, who he regarded as his father:

   "But I'm not a kid anymore.

   The moment my father was assassinated by the orcs, I was no longer a child. I couldn't hide in the camp and watch the soldiers fight for my victory and then enjoy it with peace of mind.

   This is your war and mine.

  My father, and the innocent citizens who died in the disaster, are all looking at me. "

"very good."

When the old marshal heard this, Lao Huai nodded in relief. He put his lion helmet on his head, and said to Varian in a loud voice:

   "You will be a good king, and the boy, your father and I, will be proud of you."

After   , the marshal continued to move forward.

  The knights behind him brought him weapons, but it was not the great royal sword that the marshal usually used on weekdays, but a heavy and mysterious weapon wrapped around a sword cloth.

Marshal    looked down at the sword that was brought to his hand.

   He stretched out his hand, wanting to hold the sword, but when he touched the hilt, Lothar hesitated.

   He seems to be thinking about whether he is qualified to use such a weapon forged with glory and legend in such a war.

   He seemed to wonder if he was worthy of it.

   "Hold it, Marshal."

  The great knight Saidan Dasuohan, wearing a heavy helmet and silver-white armor, sensed the marshal's hesitation, and said softly:

   "This sword is for you.

   It chooses to see the sun again at this moment, perhaps to witness today's victory. Don't hesitate, in all of Azeroth, there is no one more qualified than you. "

   "Really? Saidan."

  Lothar smiled, stroked the hilt, and whispered:

   "I'm not doubting my bloodline, I'm doubting. Can I still be considered a qualified warrior? After all, I have been on the battlefield as a commander all these years."

   "The wisdom of the situation is your sharp edge, and it is no weaker than the sword in the hand of a warrior."

  The great knight put the sword in his hand and said:

   "Your will is as strong as steel, and your blood never fades. You are a qualified warrior, there is no doubt about that."

"Um."

  Lothar nodded, took the war sword wrapped in sword cloth in his hand, and carried it on the weapon girdle behind him.

   He raised his head, and before the huge and majestic army formation, he looked at the Black Rock Mountain in front of him. At the end of the hillside leading to the Black Rock Tower, the heavy gate that the Dark Iron Dwarves forged into human faces was still closed.

   It seems that the orcs chose to stick to and avoid the battle.

  Lothar raised his left hand, and the flag-handling officer who stretched out his hand immediately waved the marshal's battle flag, and the human heavy cavalry at the forefront began to urge the war horses and marched forward at the slowest speed.

   The artillery phalanx of the Kul Tirans at the rear also began to aim their cannons at the gate of the Blackrock Tower.

  If the orcs have not come out to fight, then the alliance will be forced to adopt siege tactics.

   "woo woo woo"

   Just as the heavy cavalry phalanx entered the preset impact area, the familiar sound of horns echoed in Blackrock Mountain.

   "They're coming! Greenskins are coming!"

  Dailene Proudmoore, who had been waiting for a while, heard the horn sound, and immediately raised her head, a ray of extreme light burst out from the blue eyes under the battle helmet.

   Not only him, all the warriors cheered up at this moment.

   In the past six years, they have heard the sound of such a horn countless times. The bleak and low voice echoed, indicating that the orcs were about to launch a general attack.

   "Lok\'tarogar!"

   "Lok\'tarogar!"

   In the screams of the orcs, the gate under the Blackrock Tower was pushed open bit by bit from the inside.

  The powerful orc warriors needed ten people together and the hinges behind them to completely push the closed heavy gate open to both sides.

  In the harsh sound of the boulders rubbing against the ground, the unexpectedly bright sunlight from the outside world, along with the opening of the gate, gradually shone into the shadow of the huge passage behind.

  As the sun spreads forward, amid the distant wolf howls, Orgrim Doomhammer, riding on a huge warwolf, also rode the war beast under his crotch and took the initiative to walk out of the tunnel.

   The chief of the green-skinned orcs took the initiative to walk under the sun.

   He wears the old black plate armor he had forged on Draenor with his former brother Blackhand. It was covered with all kinds of scars.

   This armor is identical to the Stormwind armor that Lothar is wearing now.

   They are all like their own masters, who have experienced hundreds of battles, but never give up, representing the good character of warriors.

   In the hands of the Great Chief, he was holding the heavy, stone-like legendary warhammer.

   It was so silent.

   As weather-beaten as the black plate armor, and like Orgrim, he is ready to fight to the death here today.

   Orgrim rides his Warg.

  He looked at the alliance army formation in front of him from the height of the hillside. The reflection of the armor and weapons made him dizzy. His eyes were rolling, trying to find the weakness or defect of the formation in front of him.

   But he was better for several minutes without finding any flaws that could be exploited.

   The opposite Anduin Lothar set up a lore battlefield for him and his tribe.

   That was his old rival.

   The rivalry between him and Lothar has been taking place since the Horde took Stormwind.

   It’s been six years.

   He knew how difficult Lothar was.

   "An old lion king, with a group of lions assembled in the name of revenge, is coming to devour us."

  The Great Chief moved his fingers and glanced behind him.

  The silent orc warriors filed out of the tunnel at the rear. Except for a few warriors who were still as strong and healthy as usual, most of the orcs had fallen into the weakness caused by the blood of demons.

   They are not as brave as they used to be, and some people even yawn as they walk.

   They have changed from a violent army to a mess of loose sand.

  In terms of numbers, the tribes are at a disadvantage, and due to the influence of the plague, no matter how you look at this battle, there seems to be no hope of victory.

   "Unless, we actively create opportunities to break through."

   Orgrim thought so.

   Immediately afterwards, his eyes were placed on the figure riding on the warhorse in front of the alliance army formation.

  Lothar.

  Anduin Lothar.

   The strongest and weakest point in the alliance offensive, as long as he can be seriously injured or killed, the alliance army formation without the commander will be in chaos.

   That's the only chance!

   "Kilrogg! Saurfang! Go ahead."

  The Great Chief said to the Chief and the Overseer beside him:

   "According to the plan!"

Varok Saurfang, who was carrying a skull battle axe, rode on the wolf and hammered his breastplate. Although Kilrogg was dissatisfied, he also knew that the plan of the warchief was the only feasible strategy at present. .

   What's more, Orgrim, as the warchief, has undertaken the most dangerous task himself.

   Then what else does he have to complain about?

   In the next instant, the orcs of the Blackrock Clan and the Blood Ring Clan shouted battle cries, whether they are healthy or weak, they all rushed down the hillside with their commanders under the last blood of their blood.

   is like a billowing green turbid current, rushing towards the alliance's position.

  The heavy cavalry of the alliance, while the greenskin charged, also urged the horses, set up their lances, and started a wall charge.

The    infantry, beating their swords and shields, followed closely behind.

  The cannons were roaring, the rangers began to cover and shoot, the assassins jumped into the shadows, the paladins shouted holy light, and the mages, they chanted magic spells, led the burning boulders from the sky, and slammed into the orcs' positions.

   Marshal Lothar also charged with the knights, and the most valiant iron knights guarded him to the death.

   and Varian Wrynn, the little king was also shouting hoarsely, and with his royal cavalry, he shouted and killed the orcs.

  The two sides were colliding, slashing, and before being killed, they tried their best to pierce the opponent's chest with their weapons, and they were beaten into meat sauce by a flying cannonball before they could breathe.

  The battle of more than 170,000 people on both sides soon turned into a melee that spread all over the Blackrock Tower.

   This is something that cannot be controlled at all, there are too many people.

   "Lothar can't get out."

  Orgrim Doomhammer has been keeping an eye on Lothar's position. After confirming that the Alliance Marshal was unable to leave the battlefield, the Warchief finally moved.

  The last deadly bodyguard, composed entirely of healthy orcs, followed his warchief like a vicious sword, stabbing straight into the center of the battlefield.

   Their goals are very clear.

  Lothar!

   Only him!

   At this moment, outside the battlefield, on the watchtower of the damaged fortress, Black controlled the flying Old Bone Eater and shared the vision with it. The undead flying eagle has been hovering above the orcs.

   It was as clear as Blake watching this scene on the battlefield.

   "It's coming, it's coming."

  The pirate put the sandwich in his hand into his mouth with a touch of anticipation and excitement.

   That moment is coming.

  The grievance between the two worlds will finally end in the most traditional way for the warriors, and the best part is .

  Black looked up at the sky.

   This time, he is not the only bystander.

   Soldiers, fight hard.

   Please the gods with blood.

   (end of this chapter)