Lone Wolf of the Freljord

"Who is that person?"

"Looks like Locke."

"There's a good show to watch! Gragas and Rockfather are fighting!"

"Drinkers and Berserkers battle it out! Bet bet!"

The entire Zuixiao Xiaodian was boiling, and the waitresses quickly removed the tables and chairs to make room for the upcoming battlefield. Judging by their proficiency, it was obviously not the first time to do such a thing.

The good guys gathered around and started throwing blood money as a bet.

"I bet on Gragas to win!"

"I'm betting on the big fat man too!"

"I bet on that Berserker! Give it a go!"

Lothar shook his head, looked at the noisy crowd with a smile, and said to himself, "This is the pub."

The tavern owner boiled his own soup and said indifferently, "If you break things, you will be compensated according to the price."

Olaf got up from the wreckage of the table and grinned: "Enough! Come on!"

The muscles of the Berserker's whole body burst into flames, the terrifying tendons were densely covered, and the two fists bombarded Gragas with violent power.

However, the fat on Gragas was like armor, seemingly soft and vulnerable, but Olaf couldn't make much effort to hit it.

"Hey!" Gragas picked up a bench and hit Olaf **** the head. The sawdust flew out, and Olaf's forehead was bleeding.

The smell of blood irritated the Berserker. Olaf kicked Gugalas in the stomach. The big fat man was kicked several meters away, but he immediately stood up and picked up the remaining bottle on the nearby table. Mead, gurgling down.

The fight between the two continued. Olaf's body became more and more bloody, and the alcohol on Gragas became heavier and heavier. It seemed that both blood and wine could give them strength, and they fought more and more fiercely. With bloody, even the crowd who were booing at the beginning were quieted by their fight.

"Honey... After fighting for so long, are they still human?"

"Even the Frost Bloodline should be beaten down, they're still fighting!"

"Look! Gragas is drinking again! Another tooth was knocked out!"

"That Berserker was kicked to the death too! Hiss! It hurts!"

Lothar sat comfortably on the bench, drinking and enjoying the **** fight scene.

"It's good..." Losar blindfolded her eyes and said, "I also want to fight..."

The sleeve of Lothar's right arm drooped down from the bench and hung limply.

...

"So are you two having a good time?" Lothar stood outside the drunk owl's tavern, in front of Olaf and Gragas with bruised noses and bruised faces.

The two of them fought for a whole night, and the audience couldn't bear to go home. Finally, in the early morning, they both fell down, and were carried out of the pub by the owner and waiters of the drunk owl's pub.

Olaf said unconvincingly: "Not yet! I can still fight!"

Gragas was holding the big wine barrel that he had bottomed out, and seemed to have lost his will to fight, and muttered in a low voice: "No more wine..."

Lothar sighed and said to Gugalas, "Hey, do you still recognize me?"

The sobered Gragas looked extremely decadent. He raised his head and looked at Lothar: "I don't know..."

"Really, have you been drinking so much that your brain is broken?" Lothar pointed to himself. "It's me, Lothar, the one who found mead raw materials with you a few years ago!"

Gragas touched the top of his bald head in confusion: "It seems that there is such a person..."

Lothar was speechless.

Gragas rubbed his eyes and said, "Just pretend I know you, that... Lolo..."

"It's Lothar, you should drink less." Lothar corrected.

"Oh, yes, Lothar." Gragas raised his loose waistband. "What are you looking for with me? You know this tantrum?"

"Who the **** is violent!" Olaf raised his fist, but was immediately stopped by Lothar.

"That's it, Gragas, I found out that you've been here recently, so I came to see you. I want you to go to Rakstark." Lothar said his intentions.

"Lake Stark" Gragas picked his ears, "Where is it?"

Lothar couldn't help but help his forehead, this big fat man didn't know about the famous holy city of Avarossa in the entire Freljord.

"In the west, you can find a guide to take you there before the summer is over," Lothar explained patiently.

"Oh...what should I do?" Gragas asked.

"There is a tribe there, the tribe of me and this guy." Lothar pointed to Olaf, and the Berserker folded his arms in displeasure.

"Go and be a thug for you." Gragas guessed it, and waved his hand directly, "Don't go! I haven't got the boss's recipe yet, don't go!"

"You listen to me first." Losara grabbed Gragas's fat palm, "Let you go is not just for you to fight, it's good."

"What's the benefit"

"How about a big wine cellar of your own?" Lothar laughed, "The war mother of that tribe is my blood alliance, you just need to tell her that you were introduced by me, and the condition is to build a big wine cellar of your own. Wine cellar, she will definitely promise you."

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No one can beat Gragas, just as no one can beat him.

——The owner of the drunk owl's restaurant

Chapter 105 Danger Zone

Gragas opened his eyes slightly: "Is my own wine cellar... it sounds good... how big can it be?"

Lothar pointed to the drunk owl's small pavilion beside him: "It's the same size as this... No, how about twice the size?"

Gragas' eyes shone with excitement: "Really you didn't lie to me?"

Lothar knew in his heart that the invitation to Gragas was almost certain, and this fat man who was addicted to alcohol could not resist such a temptation.

"Of course I didn't lie to you, and the tribe will not restrict your freedom. You can leave whenever you want, and no one will stop you." Lothar said cheerfully.

"But..." Gragas was very moved, and he looked at the drunk owl's tavern reluctantly, "The wine in this place is really delicious."

Lothar knew that Gragas was still reluctant to give up the boss's formula, and it was time for him to come up with the last chip.

"I don't remember the real ice in your wine barrel being very big," said Rosa.

When Lothar met Gragas, he heard that he accidentally picked up a piece of pure ice, which is the perfect treasure for ice-cold wine. And at the same time contains magic.

Gragas immediately realized something and grabbed Lothar's shoulder excitedly: "Really! You can give me more ice! Really!"

"I can't give you too much. You know how precious Zhen Bing is. But I am also the blood alliance of the mother of war. As long as you can serve the tribe in the future, it is okay to give you a small piece of it."

"Deal!" Gragas smashed Lothar on the chest happily, almost smashing Lothar out, "I can study the formula myself, Zhenbing is too difficult to deal with, so you must give it to me. what!"

Gragas happily found a guide to take him to Laxstark, Olaf patted Lothar on the shoulder: "What kind of guys do you know? This is the most fierce fat man I have ever seen in my life. already."

Lothar rubbed his aching chest: "I met him when the Avarossa tribe migrated to the east when I was a child. At that time, Gragas was very famous in the east. He was said to be an alcoholic who was addicted to alcohol. Not only does he drink a lot and he likes to fight, he often fights a group one by one, and he is so famous that even Ashe has heard of him, and Avarosa likes to talk about him at that time."

"It turned out to be famous in the east, no wonder I haven't heard of it." Olaf looked at the back of Gragas with pity, "He actually dares to drink Zhenbing bubble wine, he really has some skills, and the blood of the ice is also very good. There's no way to do this... This guy doesn't need weapons, so he has to give him a set of personal armor when he goes back, so that he can fight him fairly."

"You don't have to fight for Gragas." Lothar looked at the mountains to the east, "The next person we are looking for is the opponent I chose for you."

Olaf immediately came to the spirit: "It's really finally here, I'm getting impatient waiting!"

Lothar didn't speak, just stared silently at the dark clouds on the distant hills.

"There's going to be a storm over there."

...

Crossing six mountains and Wucha rivers in a row, Lothar and Olaf's next destination is not as beautiful as a tavern.

Bear Hunting Ground.

In the Freljord, no one is not afraid of werebears, more vicious than trolls and frost guards.

Although extremely rare, there are indeed a handful of human-friendly tribes among the trolls; although the Frost Guards invade and slaughter other tribes every year, their frost priests, whatever their purpose, are still serving as healers and shamans. The post has helped a lot of people.

As for the bear-men, they are almost equated with words like brutality, bloodthirsty, lunatic, and the like, which cannot even fully describe their horror.

When you meet trolls and frost guards, you still have a 1 in 10,000,000 chance of surviving, and when you meet a bear man... So far, in the various folklore and stories of the Freljord, is there any person alive from The bear man returned safely in his hands.

According to legend, when encountering bearmen, either die or become one of them, there is no third way.

They are gods of storms and wars, followers of Volibear the Great Bear, and have no desires other than slaying and slaughter.

Fortunately, according to ancient legends, Lissandra signed an ancient contract with the bear man. As long as humans do not venture into the hunting ground belonging to the bear man, the bear man will not easily take the initiative to attack humans. Under the propaganda of the Frost Priest, the Bearman is a mysterious and terrifying existence for all human tribes in the Freljord, but very few people have actually faced the Bearman.

Just happened to Losar, I met.

Lothar knew that the bearman hunting ground was not an absolute forbidden area for life, as many tribes said, and trespassers died. In fact, with a few tricks, the bearman could be avoided relatively safely.

Olaf had never been to a bear hunting ground before, his hometown of Lokfar Peninsula was in the far west of the Freljord, and the bear hunting ground was mostly inland.

The Bearman Hunting Ground gave people a very bad feeling. It was depressing, silent, and dark. It seemed that the light of the sun and the moon were deliberately avoiding this place, making this place gloomy and not like the world.

However, Lothar felt that it was okay, at least he was someone who had experienced Fosbello's nightmare, and such darkness was still bearable for him, and this was not the first time he had come to the Bearman Hunting Ground.

Olaf was grinding his teeth with excitement, and the hand holding the double axe trembled slightly. Lothar knew that this Berserker's desire for a glorious death was deeply rooted in his bones, and he did not say anything to discourage his enthusiasm.

After all, what Lothar arranged for him was indeed a hard fight.

The first order of business on the bearman hunting grounds is to stay hidden, smear odor-removing grass powder on the body and clothes, and walk and speak in as low a voice as possible. Bears are quite sensitive beasts. If you don't do this, you may be found in the hunting grounds within half a day, and then be hunted to death by an unknown number of bears.

"The area of ​​this bearman hunting ground is very large..." Lothar estimated the size of the hunting ground based on the wind direction and the mountain. "I have to trace the bearman's footprints first."

Olaf also changed his usual sloppy and vulgarity. The strange and heavy pressure in the bear man hunting ground made him nervous, and his eyes were vigilantly observing the surroundings like an astute lion.

Every distance Lothar and Olaf walked, they could see the corpses of their prey. The carcasses of these animals had been chewed cleanly, no minced meat could be found, and the skulls were taken away, and they did not know where to go.

"The lost..." Lothar observed the footprints left next to an animal corpse. The footprints were almost disappearing. They should have existed for a while, but Lothar still found it.

"Are there any losers here?" Olaf asked in a low voice.

Lothar's face was not very good-looking, and when he mentioned the loser, he felt nauseated.

These humans in bear skins gave up their hearts and will, and slowly transformed into bearmen through brutal hunting and **** rituals.

"Nazak, I found you..." Lothar recalled the face of a boy as big as him, whispered a name, and said to Olaf, "It is the opponent I found for you."

Lothar's reference pronoun is "it".

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Travel tips.

When going to the Freljord, it's best to ask the locals for the extent of the bearman hunting grounds, mark them on the map, and go far away.

...

You ask me what will happen if I don't bypass

Let's put it this way, I have a transition device that can escape any danger, and even if the entire Piltover garrison is dispatched, it is impossible to catch me.

...

No, I'm not provoking Sheriff Caitlin, it's a metaphor, do you understand the metaphor? Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that even a seasoned, well-equipped, and scumbag explorer like me is being ripped off by the stinky The bearman grabbed a piece of meat from his ass.

...

No, I'm not going to show you my ass.

——Excerpt from the Piltover radio program recording "Runeterra Adventure No. 596: Interview with Piltover's Youngest and Outstanding Explorer - Ezreal"

Chapter 106 Nazak

"Who is Nazak?"

Lothar hesitated for a moment, then said: "It's my childhood friend... We studied with a beast spirit walker for a while... Nazak was originally a very talented beast spirit walker, but unfortunately it finally fell into lost..."

"Is this guy strong?"

"You don't know much about bears and losers, let me tell you." Lothar stood up, the footprints were too worn out to be traced, he could only lead Olaf forward with experience and intuition, "You know the losers' What are the characteristics?"

Olaf thought for a while: "A madman, dressed in bear skin, likes to bite people, and he turns into a bear when he bites and bites himself."

"Almost, but there is one more." Lothar sighed softly, as if reminiscing about the past, "The lost will completely lose their will after they completely degenerate into bearmen, they will forget their mother tongue, and forget all their feelings and memories as human beings. . . . with the exception of one kind of loser, who, even in complete depravity, still retains most of the characteristics of being human, and they are the ones chosen by Volibear."

Olaf listened carefully to Lothar's words, and he admitted that the boy did know a lot, possibly more than the oldest shaman of Rockfather. And when it came to the possibility of killing his opponent, Olaf rarely listened to every word of Lothar.

"They are called hunting lords." Lothar looked into the depths of the forest, and the darkness in the middle of the hunting ground grew stronger.

"Lord of the Hunt"

"Yes, every hunting lord is the leader of a hunting ground and a priest of Volibear."