Azeroth Shadow Trail

Chapter 585 138. You counterfeit, why don't you come to bow down to the real prophet?

Thunder and lightning flashed over the city of Dalaran, and burning fire bottles were thrown from the buildings in the city, representing the flames of chaos dancing.

The first wave of troll sky knights in the low sky has rushed into the city. Their goal is clear. They are still operating the mage tower while driving the giant eagle attack, covering the dragon eagles to spit flames towards the ground.

They are not in large numbers, and have not reached the level that can suppress the entire city, so creating chaos has become the main task of this troll vanguard.

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

Haas, the caster of the Black Knight, also directed the bone dragon Nightmare to rush down from the sky. The bone dragon exuding a scorching aura destroyed a small mage tower in the first wave after the violet barrier was broken. .

In the midst of the collapsed buildings and the chaotic tumbling magic power, Nightmare, full of death rage, spewed a dragon's breath mixed with high-temperature smoke and dust at the mages who hurriedly evacuated, burning several mages to death.

These sudden invaders created a massacre near the city gate, and the Amani war bear troops in the rear rushed into the city, and the process was almost unstoppable.

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

"Well, that's how disasters often come. Blessings come like no other, but misfortunes never come singly, haha."

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

His cloudy eyes reflected the city under the ravages of thunder and lightning. Although his dry voice was full of laughter, there was no sarcasm, let alone contemptuous ridicule.

There was just tiredness in that voice.

It's like a walking dead who has been drained of all energy and vitality by the cruel life, living for the sake of living, without goals, without expectations.

There is no hope and no disappointment.

Dalaran was blown by a gust of wind, covered by trees in the forest, and the hood of the old orc was blown away, revealing an old face painted with white skulls.

This face was painted on the extinct Shadowmoon clan and represented the outcast's insignia.

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

He should have died of old age in the Shadowmoon Valley Necropolis that had been completely polluted by evil energy and had no life left. 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 didn't give him a chance to refuse, so the old orc came to this strange world with other chiefs, and came to the city of Dalaran, ready to take advantage of the chaos and rush into the city to snatch things that were crucial to the survival of the orcs.

At least that's what Teron'gor claims.

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

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

A fire-brander under Red Blackhand shouted rudely without respect:

"The force we don't know has rushed into Dalaran. What they can do, we can do too! The chieftains are fighting for us in the Lordaeron city. We can't take this precious opportunity Waste here!

My great chief asked us to plunder enough loot, but I have a 'plunder indicator' on my back! You can get nothing by staying here! "

The warlock's shout immediately resonated with the others, and a group of rough orcs hiding in the forest suddenly started making noise.

But the old orc Ner'zhul was unmoved.

He didn't even turn his head to look at those who made trouble, but leaned on his staff and continued to enjoy the scene of the city of magic being ravaged by thunder.

It wasn't until the orcs in the rear became quiet that the old orc said in a muddy voice:

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

"What's ready?"

The warlock who was noisy before asked a question with a bit of irrepressible anger, but Ner'zhul didn't answer, as if he was too lazy to pay attention to him, until more than ten seconds later, an exclamation sounded from behind the team.

It was an apprentice orc warlock who ran out to pee. He didn't even bother to pull up his pants, and rushed back staggeringly, as if he had seen something terrifying.

Pointing to the back with trembling fingers, his mouth was wide open but he couldn't say anything.

In fact, it goes without saying that other orcs have also seen the "strange thing" that appeared in the quiet forest in the afternoon.

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

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

Its body was covered in mud, as if it had dug its own grave and crawled out of it.

This half-decayed orc was only the first.

Behind it is a dense "death army" advancing, those are soldiers who died in this forest, including orcs and humans.

There are even dwarves and gnomes.

Their death conditions are all kinds of strange, some have decayed, some are still largely intact, some are wrapped in tattered cloth strips, and some are dressed in neat burial armor.

Walking in the forest, these corpses made weird sounds, and the rustling sounded like large pieces of marionettes.

They moved strangely and frighteningly, and under the command of a force and the same will, they staggered past the terrified young warlocks, and gathered around the death knights under the command of the gorefiend.

In just a few minutes, this slightly thin team of Dalaran raiders swelled to thousands of people!

The Burning Blade warlock who spoke provocatively just now will cover his mouth tightly, and look at the old orc in front of him with a face of horror, his waist is not straight, his clothes are shabby, and his expression is dead silent, as if a gust of wind could blow him down.

It wasn't until this moment that he realized why those powerful chiefs would leave the task of attacking Dalaran to this down-and-out orc who didn't look very powerful at all.

This is actually quite normal.

At this young warlock's age, Ner'zhul's prestige era had already come to an end before he was sensible.

Orcs at their age rarely heard of the lofty status of the Shadowmoon clan in the Dellano orc civilization. Before the rise of the Warlock School, the shaman prophet was the most powerful and the only spellcaster in the orc civilization.

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

Shadowmoon shamans and prophets inherit the ancient and mysterious spiritism. They can communicate with the souls of the dead and summon the power of the dead to fight. prophecy.

When Ner'zhul was young, he was the recognized leader of the orcs throughout Dellano.

Even the ambitious Gul'dan had to humbly call himself the apprentice of the down-and-out old orc before his Shadow Council power was formed.

Ner'zhul was indeed broken by his past ignorance and Gul'dan's betrayal, as well as the orc's depravity, and turned into an old guy like a walking dead, but this does not mean that his strength has faded.

In fact, Ner'zhul, who was unable to stop the tribe's depravity and was abandoned by the souls of the ancestors, exiled himself in the Shadowmoon Graveyard and wanted to die, had a much more sophisticated understanding of the concept of death than before.

Like now.

Relying on his own power, Ner'zhul awakened most of the newly buried corpses under the Silverpine Forest into soldiers without the other warlocks being aware of it.

He alone is an army.

The reason why Talon Gorefiend had to win over Ner'zhul, apart from relying on the power of the old orc to survive, was partly because of the mysterious knowledge of death mastered by the old orc.

Talon Gorefiend had recognized the flaws in the death knights Gul'dan had created.

He is trying to fill the last gap in the profession. It's a pity that the Shadowmoon clan was almost wiped out when the tribe massacred the world of Dellano.

Ner'zhul is now estimated to be the only bearer of that clan's valuable knowledge of the power of death.

This is a single seedling, baby egg.

"Come on, get this done."

The staff in the old orc's hand waved forward, and the death knights of the Gorefiend mobilized their horses silently. They carried hideous heavy weapons, and used the shadow magic power in their bodies to mobilize the corpses awakened by Ner'zhul, injecting them with dark energy. Power, making them faster and more violent.

Those warlocks who were shocked by Ner'zhul's little "show" also followed the death knights in desperation, rushing towards Dalaran.

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

Warlocks are just such a group of bullying creatures.

But Ner'zhul didn't care about these guys' arrogance and condescension. He had lived his life for too long. He had climbed to the top and fell to the bottom, and even witnessed the destruction of a world with his own eyes.

There are not many things that can affect his mind.

"cough cough"

After all the death knights and warlocks left, old Ner'zhul slowly leaned on his staff, turned over and rode a Shadowmoon wolf who was as old as him.

He 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, for an old man, your hearing is pretty good."

Bu Laike, who was rushing 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 orc language:

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

I heard that when you were in glory, the orcs also called you a 'prophet', so who is more powerful between you and Velen? "

"Of course it's Velen."

Old Ner'zhul laughed and said:

"After they drank the blood of fel energy and formed a tribe, they swore to cleanse the draenei from the world of Dellano, and they regarded those exiles as a chronic disease of the world.

The whole tribe came out and swept the world. It took so long, but they still couldn't 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 more qualified than me. "

"You mean, the performance of the collapsed Draenei who was beaten by a tribal civilization that is at least a thousand years behind them is notable? No way?

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

Bu Laike pouted and said:

"They have been fleeing for too long. When evasion becomes a habit, courage becomes a derogatory term. I can't see why Velen is better than you. I can only say that you two are the same.

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

Look, everything you see before your eyes is my handwriting.

Is that burning city beautiful?

It was arranged by me. "

"Tsk tsk, it looks like I really met a 'big shot' today."

Ner'zhul turned his head, and looked at Bu Laike with a pair of cloudy eyes on the white-painted skull face, and 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, what do you want to get from me?

I have nothing left but regret and despair. "

"Okay, let's be smart and don't speak dark words!"

Bu Laike 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 rumor that crows can smell the breath of dying people, Bu Laike can be sure at this moment that Ner'zhul in front of him is indeed near the end of his life.

"I want the knowledge in your head!"

The pirate stretched out his left hand and said:

"About the knowledge of 'death aura'. Don't tell me you don't understand, and don't pretend to be stupid. I saw clearly the scene where you summoned the dead just now. It's not a magical effect.

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

It is the purest aura of death that triggers the natural resurrection of the corpse, and it is an untold secret guarded by the psychic lords of the Maldraxxas Academy of Soul Selection!

There is indeed something about the ancient inheritance of the Shadow Moon Clan. "

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

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

"Don't rush to say no, just listen to what I'm offering you. Everyone who knows me calls me Laike the Generous."

The pirate rolled his eyes and said:

"Not only can I give you a 'prophecy' for free, but I can also sell you a 'regret medicine'."

(end of this chapter)