Azeroth Shadow Trail

   Chapter 585 138. You impostor, still don't come to bow down to the real prophet?

   Lightning thundered over the city of Dalaran, and the buildings in the city were thrown with flaming fire bottles, representing the chaotic flames beating.

   The first wave of troll air knights in the low sky has rushed into the city. Their goal is clear. They are driving the giant eagle to attack the mage tower and cover the dragon eagles breathing flames toward the ground.

   They are not many enough to suppress the entire city, so creating chaos has become the main task of this troll pioneer.

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

The black knight's spellcaster Haas also guided the bone dragon Nightmare to rush down from the sky. The bone dragon with a scorching aura all over his body destroyed a small mage tower in the first wave of gaps after the violet enchantment was broken. .

   In the midst of the collapsed buildings and the chaotic tumbling magic, the Nightmare, full of death anger, spewed a dragon breath mixed with high-temperature smoke and dust at the mages who evacuated in a hurry, burning several mages alive.

  These sudden intruders created a massacre near the city gate, followed by the rear Amani War Bears rushing into the city, this process was almost unstoppable.

  The mages who can still gather in the city have already gathered outside the city, trying to expel the elemental **** Gawazte released by the snake people.

   "Well, disasters often come like this, blessings are unparalleled, and misfortunes do not come singly, hehe."

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

   His turbid eyes reflected the city ravaged by thunder and lightning. Although his shriveled voice had a smile on his face, there was no sarcasm, let alone contemptuous ridicule.

   There was only exhaustion in that voice.

   is like a walking dead who has been drained of all energy and vitality by a cruel life, living for the sake of living, with no goals and no expectations.

   There will be no hope and no disappointment.

  The gust of wind blew from Dalaran's side, blocked by trees in the forest, and blew off the old orc's hood, revealing an old face painted with white skulls.

   This face drawing represents the emblem of the outcast among the fallen Shadowmoon clan.

   But this old orc was not exiled by others, he chose self-exile full of despair after the last attempt to save the race failed.

   He should have died of old age in the Shadowmoon Valley Cemetery, which had been completely polluted by fel energy and had no life at all. That was the ending he chose for himself.

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

  The Gorefiend did not give him a chance to refuse, so the old orcs followed other chiefs to this strange world, and came to the city of Dalaran.

   At least that's what Tarongol claims.

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

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

   A Fire Seal Warlock under Red Blackhand shouted rudely, disrespectfully:

"The forces we don't know have rushed into Dalaran, and what they can do, we can do too! The chiefs are fighting to the death in Lordaeron to buy us time, we can't take this precious opportunity wasted here!

  My warchief asked us to plunder enough loot, but I have a 'loot indicator' on my back! There's nothing to be gained by staying here! "

   The cry of the warlock immediately resonated with others, and a group of rough beastmen hiding in the forest suddenly made a noise.

   But Ner'zhul the old orc was unmoved.

   He didn't even look back at the guys who were making trouble, just leaned on his staff and continued to appreciate the scene where the magic city was ravaged by lightning.

   Until the orcs in the back were quiet, the old orc said in a muddy voice:

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

   "What's up soon?"

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

   It was an apprentice orc warlock who ran out to pee. He didn't even bother to put on his pants, he stumbled back and seemed to have seen something terrifying.

   trembling fingers pointed to the back, mouth wide open but unable to say anything.

   Needless to say, other orcs have also seen "weird things" appearing in the quiet forest in the afternoon.

   The corpse of an orc soldier with a headless head and rotting flesh and blood was staggering out of the woods, dragging a rotting axe.

   The armor style it wears is the style of the old tribe, which is a sentence for the orcs who died in this forest half a year ago or even earlier.

   Its body was covered in dirt, as if it had dug a grave and climbed out of it.

   This half-rotten orc is just the first.

   There is also a dense "death army" advancing behind it. Those are soldiers who died in this forest, including orcs and humans.

   There are even dwarves and gnomes.

  Their death forms are all kinds of strange, some are rotten, some are still in general integrity, some are wrapped in tattered cloth, and some are wearing neat burial armor.

  These corpses made strange noises as they walked in the forest, and the rustling sounded like a large piece of marionette.

   They moved bizarrely and horribly, staggering past the terrified young sorcerers under the command of a force and the same will, and each gathered around the death knights under the command of the Gorefiend.

   In just a few minutes, this slightly thin Dalaran raider team swelled to thousands!

   The Fireblade Warlock who made a provocative statement just now will cover his mouth tightly, looking in horror at the old orc whose waist is not straight, dressed in tatters, and looks deadly, as if a gust of wind can blow it down.

  It wasn't until this moment that he realized why those powerful chiefs had to leave the attack on Dalaran to this desolate orc who didn't seem to be at all powerful.

   This is actually quite normal.

   At the age of the young sorcerer, Ner'zhul's prestige era had come to an end before he could understand.

   Orcs of their age have rarely heard of the lofty position of the Shadowmoon clan in the Orc civilization of Draenor. Before the rise of the Warlock School, the Shaman Prophet was the most powerful and the only spell caster in the Orc civilization.

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

Shadowmoon shamans and prophets have inherited ancient and mysterious psychics. 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 orientation of the stars. prophecy.

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

   Even the ambitious Gul'dan had to humbly call himself the apprentice of this desolate old orc before his Shadow Council power was formed.

   Ner'zhul was indeed shattered by his own past ignorance, Gul'dan's betrayal, and the depravity of the orcs, turning him into an old walking corpse, but that didn't mean his power had faded.

   In fact, after being powerless to stop the fall of the tribe and abandoned by the soul of the ancestors, Ner'zhul, who was self-exiled in the Shadowmoon Cemetery and desperate for death, had a much more refined understanding of the concept of death than before.

   is like now.

  Ner'zhul relied on his own power, and without the other warlocks noticing it, he awakened all the newly buried corpses under most of the Silverpine Forest into soldiers.

  He alone is an army.

   And the reason why Talon Gorefiend had to win over Ner'zhul, in addition to relying on the power of the old orcs to survive, was also partly due to the mysterious knowledge of death mastered by the old orcs.

  Talon Gorefiend had recognized the flaws in Gul'dan's creation of the death knight.

   He is trying to fill the last flaw of the profession. It's a pity that the Shadowmoon Clan was almost wiped out when the Horde slaughtered the world of Draenor.

   The inheritor of the precious knowledge about the power of death passed down in that clan is now estimated to be only Ner'zhul alone.

  This is the only seedling, baby egg.

   "Let's go, finish this thing."

The old orc swayed the staff forward, and the death knights of the Gorefiend silently mobilized the warhorses. They carried ferocious heavy weapons and used the shadow magic in their bodies to urge the corpses awakened by Ner'zhul, injecting them with dark energy. power, making them faster and more violent.

   Those warlocks who were terrified by Ner'zhul's little "showing a hand" all followed the death knights sullenly and charged towards Dalaran.

   These guys with "looting indicators" on their backs would not complain to Ner'zhul, they didn't even dare to look at the old orc.

   Warlocks are such a group of people who bully the soft and fear the hard.

   But Ner'zhul didn't pay attention to these guys. He had lived for too long. He had climbed the peaks and fell into the troughs, and even witnessed the destruction of a world with his own eyes.

   There is not much that can affect his mind.

   "cough cough"

  After all the death knights and sorcerers had left, old Ner'zhul slowly leaned on his staff and rolled over to mount a Shadowmoon Wolf as old as him.

   was about to leave the forest for 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, as an old man, your hearing is really good."

  Blake, who was on his way 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 Orcish language:

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

  I heard that when you were beautiful, the orcs also called you a 'prophet', so who is more powerful than Velen? "

   "Vellen, of course."

   old Ner'zhul laughed and said:

   "They drank the blood of fel and established their Horde, vowing to clean the draenei from the world of Draenor, who they see as the ills of the world.

  The whole tribe came out and swept the world, it took so long, but still could not find the hiding place of the draenei.

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

   His prophetic name is 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 was quite impressive? No way?

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

   Black pouted and said:

   "They've been on the run for too long, and when escapism becomes a habit, courage becomes a derogatory term. I can't see how Velen is better than you, and I can only say that you are two and a half.

   They are all third-rate prophets who failed to protect their clan, how can they compare to me, a genuine prophet?

  Look, everything you see in front of your eyes is written by me.

   Is that burning city beautiful?

   I arranged it. "

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

   Ner'zhul turned his head, the white skull painted on his face, and a pair of cloudy eyes looking at Black, he said:

   "Then, Your Excellency the Prophet, when you are being hunted down, you still take time to chat with me, a dying old man, in order to get what you get from me?

   I have nothing but remorse and despair. "

   "Okay, let's not speak secretly!"

  Black jumped down from the branch and landed lightly beside Ner'zhul, his nose moved, and he smelled a scent from the old orc in front of him.

   A smell of decay.

   Just like the rumors that crows can smell the breath of dying people, Blake can be sure at this moment that Ner'zhul in front of him is indeed dying.

   "I want the knowledge in your mind!"

  The pirate stretched out his left hand and said:

   "About the knowledge of 'Death Reiki'. Don't tell me you don't understand, and don't pretend to be stupid. I can see clearly the scene when you summoned the dead just now, it's not a magical effect.

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

   That is the natural resurrection of the corpse inspired by the purest aura of death. It is an unspoken secret guarded by the psychic lords of the Maldraxus Soul Selection Chamber of Secrets!

   The ancient heritage of the Shadowmoon clan really has something. "

   Hearing this, especially the titles of Maldraxxus and Soul Chosen, the psychic lord, Ner'zhul's expression suddenly changed. He narrowed his eyes and stared at the pirates. After a few seconds, he said:

   "You are asking too much! Especially for a desperate person, you are asking for my last important thing, but you are not willing to give me even a promise."

   "Don't be too busy to refuse, just listen to what I'm paying you, everyone who knows me calls me 'Generous' Blake."

  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'."

   (end of this chapter)