Azeroth Shadow Trail

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

"The weather today is a bit weird."

In the early morning of the next day, under the protection of a group of iron horse knights, Marshal Lothar turned over and boarded his fully armed majestic horse. He reached out to take the helmet handed by his adjutant Turalyon, and glanced at the sky again.

Just said something casually.

Everyone nodded in unison.

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

In the past, the sky in the Burning Plains was always cloudy, which has something to do with the tragic past of this place.

More than two hundred years ago, at the end of the War of the Three Hammers, the Dark Iron Dwarves, who were strangled to the brink of despair by the Bronzebeard and the Wildhammer, summoned terrifying monsters from outside the world in a desperate attempt to preserve their race.

It took less than ten minutes for the Balrog King, who emerged from the elemental territory, to transform the two-thirds of the originally beautiful and fertile Red Ridge Mountains into the current Burning Plains and Scorching Canyons.

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

Heavy volcanic ash floated in the sky all day long, blocking the sunlight and making it very cloudy here.

But today is different.

It seems to indicate the glorious victory that the alliance will surely achieve today. Today's weather is very good, as if the hand of a god has swept through the sky, sweeping away all the haze.

Under the newborn sun, it shone on the Union soldiers who had already lined up, reflecting the dazzling cold light.

The phalanx horses of the human heavy cavalry at the front neighed, and the flags were unfurled.

On their left flank is the dwarves' steam tank troop. Those short, irritable muscular monsters are carrying muskets on their backs, holding tomahawks and hammers, sitting on top of the tanks, ready to follow the human cavalry and rush into the battlefield at any time.

To the right is the caster phalanx.

The phoenix mages of Quel'Thalas have already made a magic circle for group spellcasting, and the spellcasters of Dalaran don't let the elves specialize in the front, they use the structure.

The tall golems made of stone are each more than five meters high, and the mages are supplying the final magic power before 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 horses, no tanks, no magic, only swords and shields.

They are so ordinary.

But these most ordinary fighters have never succumbed to the berserk orcs in the past six years. They used their bodies and flesh and blood to support the alliance until the final moment of counterattack.

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

The atmosphere of the entire battlefield was extremely chilling, and the Knights of the Silver Hand who served as the reserve team 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 over the coalition army formation, and the priests blessed the infantry with the most powerful blessing of the holy light they could release.

"You should stay in camp, Varian."

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

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

"Marshal, I know this is war."

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

"But I'm not a kid anymore.

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

This is your war and it is mine.

My father, and the innocent citizens who died in the disaster, are watching me. "

"very good."

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

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

After speaking, the marshal continued to ride forward.

The knights behind him brought him weapons, but it was not the big royal sword that the marshal used to use, but a heavy and mysterious weapon wrapped with sword cloth.

The Marshal looked down at the sword being delivered to him.

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

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

He seemed to be wondering if he deserved it.

"Hold it, Marshal."

Wearing a heavy helmet and silver-white armor, Saidan Dathrohan noticed the marshal's hesitation, and said softly:

"This sword is for you.

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

"Really? Saidan."

Lothar smiled, stroked the hilt of his sword, and whispered:

"I'm not doubting my bloodline, I'm doubting whether I can still be considered a qualified fighter. After all, these years, I have always stepped onto the battlefield as a commander."

"The wisdom of judging the situation is your sharp edge, it is not weaker than the sword in the warrior's hand."

The great knight presented the battle sword in his hand and said:

"Your will is as strong as steel, and your blood has never faded. You are a qualified fighter, there is no doubt about it."

"Ok."

Lothar nodded, holding the war sword wrapped with sword cloth in his hand, and carrying it on the weapon belt behind him.

He raised his head, and before the huge and majestic army formation, he looked at the Blackstone Mountain in front of him. At the end of the hillside leading to the Blackstone Tower, the heavy door forged by the black iron dwarves into a human face was still closed.

It was as if the orcs had chosen to stand firm and avoid battle.

Lothar raised his left hand, and the flag officer who stretched out his hand immediately waved the marshal's battle flag, and the human heavy cavalry at the front began to urge their horses to march forward at the slowest speed.

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

If the orcs don't come out to fight, then the alliance will be forced to adopt siege tactics.

"woo woo woo"

Just when the heavy cavalry phalanx entered the preset impact zone, the familiar sound of horns echoed in the Black Rock Mountain.

"They're coming! The greenskins are coming!"

Dailin Proudmoore, who had been waiting all this time, heard the sound of the horn, and immediately raised her head, a flash of extreme light burst out from her blue eyes under the helmet.

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

In the past six years, they had heard such a horn countless times, that desolate and low voice echoed, representing the imminent general attack of the orcs.

"Lok'tar ogar!"

"Lok'tar ogar!"

Amidst the shouts of the orcs, the gate under the Blackstone Tower was pushed open bit by bit from the inside.

Kong Wu's powerful orc warriors needed ten people together, and the rear hinges were turned, to completely push the closed heavy door to both sides.

In the ear-piercing sound of boulders rubbing against the ground, the unexpectedly bright sunlight from the outside also followed the opening of the gate, and gradually shone into the shadow of the huge passage behind.

While the sun was spreading forward, amidst the distant howls of wolves, Orgrim Doomhammer, who was riding on a huge warg, also drove the war beast under his crotch, and walked out of the tunnel on his own initiative.

The great chief of the green-skinned orcs walked into the sunlight on his own initiative.

He wore old black plate armor that he had forged with his former brother Blackhand in the world of Dellano. It was covered with all kinds of scars.

This armor is exactly the same as the storm armor that Lothar is wearing now.

They are all like their own masters. They have experienced many battles but never give up, representing the good morals that belong to the soldiers.

And in the hands of the great chief, he held the heavy, stone-like legendary war hammer.

It is so silent.

As weather-beaten as Black Plate, and as Orgrim-ready to fight here today.

Orgrim rode his warg.

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

But he recovered for several minutes, but he didn't find any shortcomings that could be exploited.

Anduin Lothar on the opposite side set up a lore battlefield for him and his tribe.

That was his old rival.

Before the Horde captured Stormwind City, the confrontation between him and Lothar began.

It has been six years.

He knew how difficult Lothar was.

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

The great chief moved his fingers, and he glanced behind him.

Silent orc warriors filed out from the tunnel behind. Except for a few warriors who were still as strong and healthy as usual, most of the orcs had already fallen into the weakness brought about by the magic blood disease.

They were no longer as brave as before, and some even yawned as they walked.

They have changed from a berserk army to a mess.

In terms of numbers, the tribe is at a disadvantage, and with the impact of the plague, no matter how you look at this battle, it seems that there is no hope of victory.

"Unless we take the initiative to create an opportunity to break through."

Orgrim thought so in his heart.

Immediately afterwards, his gaze was set on the figure on the horse 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 without the commander-in-chief will be in chaos.

That is the only chance!

"Keir Rogge! Saurfang! Go."

The great chief said to the chief and the warlord beside him:

"According to plan!"

Va Locke Saurfang, with his skull-axe on his back, hammered his breastplate hard as he rode the Warwolf, and Keir Rogge, despite his displeasure, knew that the warchief's plan was the only one that worked.

What's more, Orgrim, as the great chief, took on the most dangerous task himself.

So what has he to complain about?

In the next moment, the orcs of the Blackstone Clan and the Blood Ring Clan shouted battle roars. No matter they were healthy or weak, they rushed down the hillside with their respective commanders under the last burst of enthusiasm.

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

While the heavy cavalry on the alliance's side charged the greenskins, they also urged their horses, set up their lances, and began 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 for the holy light, and the mages, they chanted their magic spells, and the burning boulders were drawn down from the sky, smashing fiercely at the orcs' positions.

Marshal Lothar also charged with the knights, and the bravest iron horse knights stood by his side.

And Varian Wrynn, the little king was also shouting at the top of his lungs, and led his royal cavalry towards the orcs.

The two sides were colliding, slashing, and before being killed, they tried their best to pierce their weapons into the opponent's chest, and were beaten to pieces by a flying shell while they couldn't breathe.

The fighting of more than 170,000 people on both sides quickly turned into a scuffle all over the Blackstone Tower.

This is something out of control, there are too many people.

"Lothar can't retreat."

Orgrim Doomhammer has been paying attention to Lothar's position. After confirming that the Alliance Marshal could no longer leave the battlefield, the warchief finally moved.

The last deadly guard, composed entirely of healthy orcs, followed its warchief, like a vicious sword, piercing the center of the battlefield.

Their goals are extremely clear.

Lothar!

Only him!

At this moment, outside the battlefield, on the watchtower of the ruined fortress, Bu Laike controls the flying old Bonebiter, sharing the vision with it. The undead flying eagle has been hovering over the orc side.

It was clear that Bo Laike was watching this scene from above the battlefield.

"It's coming, it's coming."

The pirate stuffed the sandwich in his mouth with anticipation and excitement.

That moment is coming.

The grievances between the two worlds will finally end in the most traditional way of the fighters, and the best thing is.

Bo Laike looked up to the sky.

He is not the only bystander this time.

Soldiers, fight hard.

Please the gods with blood.

(end of this chapter)