Lone Wolf of the Freljord

Lothar stood beside him and looked at it with some nostalgia: "Well, but they also worship other gods, and the three sisters and the old gods will worship."

"Hum... God, I really want to fight with God again..." Olaf recalled the day he fought against the giant bear with happiness.

Lothar slandered in his heart: "If you want to be beautiful, I won't take you to God anymore. Let's work for me in Avarosa for a few years."

There was a commotion among the guard warriors, and someone came out of the tribe.

The visitor was a long-haired man with a cold iron sword in his hand, and his face was firm.

Olaf's eyes lit up, the man's aura was quite extraordinary, and Olaf's unhealed fingers began to itch.

Lothar kicked Olaf's calf, motioning him to calm down, and then greeted the man enthusiastically: "Tendamere! Long time no see!"

Tryndamere looked at Lothar suspiciously: "Do I know you?"

Lothar stumbled and nearly fell.

He pointed to himself with a wry smile: "It's me, Lothar, the Lothar who helped you four years ago!"

Tryndamere's memories slowly emerged, and a smile appeared on his face: "It turns out to be you, you are so tall, you can hardly recognize you, is your arm broken?"

"Well, that's a long story."

Olaf also came up: "How do you know so many powerful guys?"

"Because I like to wander around." Lothar raised his head and said, "Introduction, this is Olaf, the berserker of Lokfar, my friend. This is Tryndamere."

Tryndamere nodded slightly to Olaf as a greeting, and then said to Lothar, "What are you doing with me?"

Lothar didn't talk nonsense either. He knew that Tryndamere's temperament was always straight, and he didn't like to be around the corner: "Do you know the Avarossa tribe?"

"Avarosa" Tryndamere stroked the beard on his chin, "Is it the tribe from which the Mother of War claims to be the reincarnation of Avarosa's deity?"

"How do you know?" said Lothar in surprise.

"A caravan of a clan came to us to buy and sell things half a month ago, and I heard from them."

"The rumors spread really fast..." Rosa couldn't help but sighed. The holy city of Rakstark is to the west of the Freljord, and the tribe of Tryndamere is on the tundra in the east. Rumors have spread here in less than half a year.

Tryndamere urged Lothar to say what he meant: "So what happened to the Avarossa tribe?"

Lothar cleared his throat and said solemnly: "I am now the only blood alliance of Avarosa's war mother Ashe. I came here to represent the will of the war mother."

The warriors behind "Blood Alliance" Tryndamere all suspected that, in their impression, those who could become the blood alliance of the mother must be a powerful warrior, not only to protect the mother, but also to ensure that the children born were healthier.

But this half-year-old boy in front of him has nothing to do with the word "strong", and he lost an arm.

Tryndamere did not question, but frowned: "What does Avarossa's war mother want?"

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Expansion wars in Noxus have become more frequent in recent years. After going south and overrunning most of the cities in northern Shurima, the benefits won't seem to be enough to make up for the cost of the war. With the Noxian army now waging a multi-front war of aggression against Demacia, Ionia and the Freljord at the same time, it is hard to imagine what a war fanatic the Noxian Emperor Darkwill was. Experts have analyzed that, barring a major setback, Noxus' expansion war may intensify in the next few years.

- Piltover Journal

Chapter 113 Mutation

"I hope you can join Avarosa." Lothar said intentionally.

"No." Tryndamere refused without thinking.

"Don't worry, the Avarossa tribe is a tribe that hopes to unify the Freljord and achieve equality for everyone. There will be no restrictions on your participation."

"That doesn't work either." Tryndamere still refused.

"How about the vassal?"

"No." Tryndamere said firmly, "Our tribe is strong, and we don't need to submit to others."

Lothar was not disappointed either. He just tried the conditions just now, and didn't expect too much: "Then how the alliance is equal, there is no need to share materials, but we can support each other in case of difficulty."

Tryndamere pondered for a while: "Avarosa is far to the west, right? How can I support?"

"Avarosa will expand." Lothar said confidently, "You know, the war mother is the reincarnation of Avarosa, and many tribes have joined us unconditionally. I believe that in a few years, the land of Avarossa will be expand into the central Freljord and beyond."

Tryndamere's eyes suddenly sharpened: "Will you start a war?"

"Absolutely not." Lothar said, "You heard it just now, War Mother Ashe likes peace, and we absolutely welcome those who are willing to join Avarosa, and we will never force anyone who is unwilling to join."

Tryndamere and the warriors looked at each other in dismay. Born and raised in the Freljord, it was the first time they heard of a war mother who didn't like fighting.

The War Mothers are called War Mothers because they are the war leaders of a tribe. A war mother who does not fight is as useless as a sword without an edge.

Tryndamere looked at the young man in front of him carefully. Lothar had indeed helped him a lot before, but he hadn't seen him for so long, and he wasn't sure if Lothar had ulterior motives. And what came out of Lothar's mouth was too mysterious. To be honest, Tryndamere didn't quite believe it in his heart.

Lothar saw Tryndamere's hesitation. He shrugged and said, "You can distrust me now, but in a few years you will. Avarosa will become stronger and stronger."

"Well..." Tryndamere decided to think about it carefully. The shaman gave him the task. His decision would affect the fate of the entire tribe. He had to be cautious.

"That's it." Tryndamere spread his arms, "You give me one night to discuss with the clan elders, and you can stay here tonight."

"Is that okay?" Lothar politely said, "Actually, we have other places to go, will we bother you?"

"It's okay." Tryndamere waved his hand, "It just so happens that we have a banquet tonight."

"Banquet! Wine and meat!" Olaf suddenly became energetic.

"What's the banquet?" asked Lothar.

Tryndamere smiled and hugged Lothar's shoulders: "Speaking of which, it has something to do with you."

"It has something to do with me." Lothar was confused.

...

"Everyone!" Tryndamere raised his glass. "Tonight! Let's rejoice that we've driven out the southern armies again!"

The people sitting around the bonfire party raised their arms and shouted, and the light of the bonfire reflected the snowflakes in the sky.

"Those Noxians claim to be invincible! Invincible! But still not us who are blessed by the gods!"

A second wave of cheers rang out.

"We were born here! Fight here! Trolls, Frostguards, and Noxians! They'll never set foot on our fields, hunting grounds, and tribes!"

The people cheered, the men hugged each other and sang hunting songs, the young people jumped into the dance floor hoping to attract the attention of their loved ones, and the children chased after the banquet, vying for the sugar pills in the hands of the old people.

After Tryndamere finished his toast, he turned and sat at the table that Lothar brought.

"I really don't need to introduce you to the people," Tryndamere asked. "I didn't even have a chance to thank you for helping us fight back the Noxians."

"No need, to be honest, I don't like being noticed very much." Lothar smiled slyly, "But if you can let me promote Avarossa when you introduce me, I would."

"Don't think about it." Tryndamere reached out and handed Lothar a roast leg of lamb. "I will give you an answer tomorrow after I discuss the alliance with the clan elders tonight."

"Yeah." Lothar didn't insist, glanced at Olaf who was struggling to fight wine and meat beside him, and then asked Tryndamere, "Are the Noxians here again this year?"

"Yeah." Tryndamere took a sip of mead, "After you helped us drive away the Noxians last time, they probably settled down for two or three years, but I don't know why they started attacking us aggressively in the past few years. This year they have sent more troops than last year by half."

"But you still won."

"It wasn't easy to win," Tryndamere sighed. "We lost quite a few soldiers."

Lothar is not too surprised by this answer, the Noxians are indeed tough, and while their soldiers may not be as strong as warriors who grew up in ice and snow, their weapons and equipment are far superior to those of the Freljord. Any tribe, enough to make up for the strength of the soldiers. Lothar also knew that they would also use siege beasts, muskets, artillery and other powerful things on the battlefield, and the only remaining advantage for the Freljord tribes was natural danger.

The topic suddenly became heavy, and neither of them spoke.

After a while, Tryndamere was the first to break the silence: "By the way, how did you help us drive that Noxian army away? What method did you use?"

"Do you believe me when I said I frightened them away by my own threats?"

"Do not believe."

Lothar smiled to himself and drank: "It's a lot of trouble to explain, but I'll help you drive out that Noxian army. That's enough, isn't it?"

Seeing that Lothar didn't want to say anything, Tryndamere didn't ask any further questions. He had a cheerful personality and didn't like to stalk people: "Are you taking this berserker everywhere just to recruit subordinates and allies for Avarosa?"

"Yeah, by the way, I also met my acquaintances." Lothar smiled, "You almost didn't recognize me if you haven't seen me for so many years. If it lasts a little longer, I'm afraid that you will completely forget me."

"I will never forget those who have been kind to me." Tryndamere said solemnly, "Nor will my tribe forget."

"It's enough to have you." Lothar drank the mead in one gulp. I don't know if it was the wine or the atmosphere of the banquet. A slightly drunken feeling came to my mind, "Tell me about you, how many years have you been? How's it going? Have you become the leader of your tribe?"

boom!

Tryndamere was about to answer when a terrible loud noise suddenly shattered the atmosphere of the entire banquet.

"What's the matter!" Tryndamere quickly stood up and picked up the cold iron sword behind him.

Lothar looked into the distance and pointed out, "It's the sound from the hill over there!"

"Where's the trumpeter! Everyone is on guard! The children and the old people go back to the house!" Tryndamere couldn't even care about entertaining the guests, he roared loudly, sounding like a bell, commanding the people in an orderly manner.

"I haven't seen him for a few years, but he's more of a leader." Lothar looked at Tryndamere's back and thought.

Lothar slapped Olaf, who was still eating and drinking, "I'm still eating! There's a fight!"

"What a fight!" Olaf smeared his mouth full of oil, stood up drunk, and excitedly raised his battle axe, "Fight who?"

"I don't know, most of them are Noxians." Lothar looked at the top of the mountain in the distance. Although it was already dark, he could still see what happened to the mountain - half of the cliffs had been destroyed, the rolling stones and The sand suddenly collapsed. "Is it Noxian dynamite? What are they blasting mountains for?"

Before the loud noise of the collapse of the mountain was over, Lothar discovered another abnormality.

"This snow... is it getting heavier?"

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The most difficult thing for the Noxian army to deal with is not their soldiers, nor their domesticated dragon lizards and war elephants, but black powder.

These things can cause violent explosions in a very small amount. It is said that the alchemists of the Noxus Army Armed Forces combined the technology from the city of progress Piltover to develop, and the formula is absolutely confidential.

How to deal with the various tactics of the Noxian Army around black powder on the battlefield is a compulsory course for every commander.

——Excerpt from Demacian Reserve Barracks Textbook

Chapter 114 Encountering God

The whole tribe fell into a tense atmosphere. The tribesmen did not notice the changes in the weather. They obeyed Tryndamere's command and began to pray to the **** of the boar to give strength to their tribe's warriors.

The warriors removed the warg and the Juvask boar from the pen, and they were going to ride to the mountain where the accident happened.

"Tendamere!" Lothar took Olaf and ran to Tryndamere, who was already sitting on the back of a warg. "We're going too!"

Tryndamere didn't talk nonsense, and ordered one of his subordinates: "Lead two wolves for them!"

The Warg's running speed on the plains is slightly slower than that of the Juvask boar, but once it reaches the mountains, the Warg's agility advantage can quickly get rid of the Juvask.

The wolf riders headed by Tryndamere were the first to arrive at the mountainside, and the scenery in front of them shocked everyone.

The mountain was hollowed out.

The towering mountain was hollowed out with a huge hole. The size of the hole was immeasurable, but the volume of the entire mountain had been reduced by at least more than half.

But this is not a cake, but a mountain.

"This is definitely not something that Noxian black powder can do!" Lothar suppressed the horror in his heart and thought quickly. One possibility after another flew through his mind, but he couldn't find it no matter what. Explain this anomaly and put a reasonable explanation.

No, there is a possibility that such a phenomenon could be reasonably explained.

In other words, the existence of this possibility is unreasonable in itself.

Lothar remembered the giant bear in the hunting ground that burned down a large forest in just a few breaths.

"Miracle!" Some of the warriors have begun to exclaim, "This is the power of the gods!"

Lothar looked at Tryndamere and Olaf. The former had a serious expression, while the latter was already sharpening his axe.

"Olav." Lothar whispered to the berserker beside him, "If things don't go right for a while, we'd better run away."

"Ha" Olaf was dumbfounded, "Why? It's not like I haven't cut a **** before."

"This time is different!" Lothar was a little anxious. "We don't even know who we are going to face! And last time you didn't fight against the real Bear Spirit. What if you were a true **** this time!"

Olaf sneered and said: "I can't ask for it! You have to run and run! I must fight!"

Lothar had a headache. He didn't want to watch Olaf, a powerful thug, go to death in vain, but he also knew how stubborn this berserker was.

While Lothar was still racking his brains on how to convince Olaf, the mutation regenerated.

Blizzard is coming.

The severity of the cold wind suddenly rose by several levels, and Lothar hurriedly grabbed the reins of the Warg so as not to be blown away: "What's the matter!"

Accompanied by the cold wind, hailstones poured down with fist-sized hailstones, and the warriors raised their weapons and shields to protect their heads.

The temperature also dropped rapidly, and the cold iron armor of the warriors quickly frosted at a speed visible to the naked eye.

"This is so unnatural!" Lothar hid under Olaf's arms, his eyelashes and lips were covered with frost in an instant, and the cold attack was fiercer than any winter that Lothar had experienced in his life, like ...like...