Anomaly Of Warcraft

Juggernaut...

How many years, how many years have been...

Spartacus can't remember the specific numbers...

The last time I exchanged martial arts skills with the Juggernaut, it was Feng Heyue from his hometown who accompanied his glory and pride.

Now the cool breeze is still the same, the month of Draenor is gone, and only Alterac's snow is with him.

Orgrim, I don’t hate you for sending me to death. What I hate is your incompetence. I have suffered for my past sins, repented, and am willing to use my life to redeem my sins, but I do not regret being the Horde in World War II. Do not regret giving everything for the glory of the orc.

And you, trampled on it, you shouldn't live, you shouldn't appear in front of the orcs again, your life, your name, your dignity, and your past have already disappeared with the defeat of the tribe.

Spartacus didn't understand why there were tears in the corner of his eyes, but it must not be because of the joy of reunion.

"I……"

Orgrim wanted to say something, but didn't know what to say.

"Don't make excuses, let us fight like orcs."

Spartacus observed carefully and found that Orgrim was not wearing his legendary black armor, nor was Doomhammer by his side.

So he also unfastened his cloak silently, took off his breastplate, and drew out his swords to set his posture.

"If this is what you want, then so be it."

Orgrim condensed the surprise on his face, suppressed the excitement he was telling, checked the small leather shield on his arm, and loosened the straps that bound the war spear on his back.

Then concentrate on preparing for the baptism of the storm.

The sword sage of the orcs was never a profession, but an honor and a title.

During the most miserable years of Draenor, ogres, arakkoa, tigers, Goron, too many high-ranking races regarded orcs as slaves and rations.

But the orcs did not yield.

The body is destroyed by slavery, but the mind is still free.

In the long years of struggle, countless orcs corpse the wilderness, but they never gave up.

Finally, the dawn of dawn has begun to appear, and the unbelievable ogres have fallen into a state of division and decline. Those who slashed orcs were like slashing melons and vegetables and died in the hands of the ogres themselves. The arakkoa also stopped expanding after Terokk's disappearance.

In such a big environment, the orc clans who had been struggling to live had a chance to respite and develop.

When Ner'zhul first called all the clans to meet in the Nagrand Elemental Heights, the orcs scattered around Draenor realized that we were so powerful.

It was also because of that gathering that the orcs confirmed the glorious title of Sword Saint for the first time.

Only those Orc warriors with the strongest will and the toughest body, who are skilled in the use of various combat tools by Grandmaster martial arts, can prove themselves with actions and obtain the title of Juggernaut and bear this heavy honor.

From the very beginning, the Juggernaut was exalting the orcs out of practical needs.

Draenor has nothing, but there are many monsters and monsters. There are too many powerful creatures that can treat ordinary orcs as small biscuits. One bite by one bite threatens the fragile habitat of the orcs. It is every orc sword to slay these threatening creatures. The mission of sacred responsibility.

Later, the tribe was established, and Gul'dan opened the door of darkness. The sword saints believed the warlock’s claims, believed in the lies of Draenor’s imminent destruction, and chose to go to the perilous Azeroth for the future of the orcs as a clan. People fight for a new world.

Human beings are not soft persimmons, and even a sword master with high martial arts cannot guarantee victory.

From the Dark Swamp all the way to Hillblad, and even fought a thousand miles to the King City of Lordaeron, the Juggernauts did not miss any battle.

They are the most trusted sword of the warchief, the most reliable shield of the orcs, and the highest force for the tribe to fight in all directions.

However, the fierce battle caused almost death and injury to the sword saints who knew almost all their companions.

The silence of the dark gate, in order to cover the evacuation of the large forces, the last sword saints of the tribe all died in that rainy night.

"So Orgrim, why don't you die!"

It is a martial art that is different from ordinary orcs. Spartacus has never given up self-training during the years when he wears a black iron helmet and acts as an Alterac paladin martial art Instructor, a former assassin. Now that he has surpassed the shackles of race, he wants to kill Orgrim not because of hatred, but to wash away the shame of the warchief and to bury the dark past of the orcs.

Shot, regardless of life and death, leave no room.

This battle is unforgiving.

But Spartacus faced Orgrim, the holder of Doomhammer, the former warchief of the tribe, the strongest of the orcs, and another swordsman.

Orgrim hit the knee with a backhand shield to press the lower end of the spear and swept backwards, breaking Spartacus's forcing double knives with a less elegant but very powerful move, and then jumped a step to open the distance.

"Because I can't die yet."

The intuition of a warrior is better than a thousand words. From Spartacus's double knives, Orgrim understands his complicated feelings.

The words are so pale and weak, only iron and blood can vent their resentment and depression.

Hate me?

You have such qualifications.

Let's fight!

Spartacus saw Orgrim pull away and did not attack. Using the moonlight and the shadow of the tree Madara, he disappeared in a flash.

"Hurry up, I can't practice at home, so I won't show my ugliness."

Orgrim suddenly showed a look of remembrance, then lifted the spear flat in the posture of throwing a spear, and then closed his eyes.

Stealth is not invincible, no matter how swift the wind can drive the sound of leaves rubbing, when the naked eye is unbelievable, just feel it with your heart.

Spartacus, your murderous intent is so strong that the wind cannot dissipate it. What's the point of hiding your body?

Table tennis, table tennis, table tennis, table tennis...

In just a few breaths, the sound of the intensive collision of weapons was like agitated drum music.

"I'm surprised, you didn't apply poison on the blade?"

Orgrim touched the wound on his shoulder and neck, brought the blood to his nose and sniffed.

"You should be thankful, I didn't make a special trip to kill you, otherwise I wouldn't mind using the most vicious poison."

Spartacus knelt on the ground and breathed hard, his abdomen firmly received a heavy blow from Orgrim.

For warriors such as Orgrim and Spartacus who are familiar with each other, little tricks are not very useful.

However, one fact that cannot be concealed is that they are all old.

When the Dark Portal opened, they were in their prime of life, struggling for hope and the future.

Now, twenty years have passed, even if their hearts are unwilling, they still can't conceal this fact, their bodies are old.

Although Spartacus seems to maintain a better condition than Orgrim, he is also three years older than Orgrim.

The two orc sword saints who remained in the shadow of the age fought a life-and-death battle between the elderly players in an unnamed grove.

Orgrim wrapped the wound roughly, and Spartacus was also trying his best to calm his breath, temptation and stalemate were superfluous, and then life and death were about to happen.

At this time, there was the sound of footsteps.

"Orgrim? Orgrim?"

It's Thrall's voice!

Orgrim turned his head unconsciously and wanted to eat and drink Thrall not to come close, but immediately realized that his actions were almost fatal, and immediately confronted Spartacus with his spear for a short time.

However, there are no traces of old friends in Orgrim's sight.

Close my eyes again and feel it with my heart and eyes, the surroundings are calm and calm.

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