Azeroth’s Death Track

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When a man is about to die, whether it is a great ruler or a humble civilian, he will always spend some time to recall his life, or be passionate or indifferent, but that is the life he has experienced. It is a life that cannot be abandoned.

That is a person, a proof that life lives in the world.

At the approaching dawn of Mount Hyjal, against the dark night, Grom with the tomahawk. Hellscream standing in front of his son, he carefully looked at Garrosh’s face. With dark gray and blood stained faces, Grom seemed to see himself when he was young.

The self who hunted freely on the Nagrand Grassland and freely drove himself, the young man who longed for glory and war, and eager to prove himself, the one who was eventually lost in the war, and eventually lost everything, even lost Self tyrant and thug.

In the first half of my life, it was really sinful.

"my son..."

Grom spoke, he said:

"When I was young, I did a lot of wrong things. At that time, I was crazy to pursue power and strength, and despised all weaknesses. Your mother, she was seriously injured in a certain hunting, she begged me for help, But I laughed at her. I laughed at her as a weak person. When she was dying, I personally helped her understand the pain. I thought it was a relief."

"But not, my son."

This past has always been hidden in Grom’s heart. Until today, at this separate moment, he told Garrosh, and the young orc lowered his head. He didn’t know how to respond to his father, but Garrosh could feel that this was probably the last time he talked to his father.

"When you were first picked up by Old Nazgorin to Azeroth, the reason why I alienated you, the reason why I despised you is here..."

Grom smiled:

"I dare not face you, son, when I see your eyes again, I always think of the poor woman who was abandoned by me. I used to think that I would not be bound by emotions, but in fact, it was me The last thing I regret in my life...I gave up my family."

"do not talk..."

Garrosh clenched his fists and said softly:

"Stop talking, father, we still have a lot of time in the future..."

"No, son, there is no time."

Grom interrupted Garrosh's self-consolation. He stretched out his hand and patted his son's shoulder. At this moment, Grom was not like a strong chief, but like a real father, a kind father. , A man who put down everything in the past, he said to his son:

"I know that when you were young, you had a hard time with Gaia Ann Mother, because of the evil things I did, I took the lead to drink the blood of the devil, and let the evil force sweep the entire orc tribe, the source of this disaster. It’s not just Malonos, but me... I know that other children hate you and therefore exclude you, because your father is a butcher, a villain, a person who brought disaster and war."

"I am indeed such a person, but sorry, son, I let you carry those heavy things for me."

"No, father!"

Garrosh looked up. The brave and reckless young man had tears in his eyes for the first time. This was probably Garrosh's first tears, even when he was about to die in the battle of Northrend. No tears shed.

But at this moment, Garrosh no longer concealed his inner emotions. He clutched Grom's cold and cold wrist, and he begged to say the same:

"No, you are the best father in the world. You strictly demanded me to make me embark on the path of a real warrior. Father, you are a real hero. You ended it all. No one can defame this! I have already Confirmed, you are the hero in my mind, I want to be a person like you, father...my life needs your guidance."

"Don't leave me! Don't give up on me!"

"Wow"

The heavy battle axe blood roar was captured by Grom in his hand. He held the battle axe in both hands, the inheritance of the Warsong clan, the hand of the chief, and he handed it to Garrosh, who was in tears, Grom. A pride flashed in his eyes:

"Don't try to be me, Garrosh."

"To be a better person than me... a Warsong Chief who is more worth following."

"My son, Garrosh Hellscream, today, in the name of Warsong Chief, I announced... you will take over the power and mission in my hands, and you will become the next Warsong Chief!"

Grom looked at his son and he said softly:

"Hold it, Garrosh."

"I will look at you in hell, my son, the story of the **** roar of the old era will end here, and the legendary life of the **** roar of the new era will also start here, using your future legend , Glorify me..."

———————————————————

While the family inheritance of Hellscream is progressing, on the other end of the battlefield, Kilrogg sits on the cold head of Malonos. His only one-eyed stares at the dark darkness in the sky. The deepest darkness before dawn, this blood ring orc who had seen his own illusion of death with his own eyes waited silently for the end of his life.

Behind him, Jolin died with his eyes quietly beside his father.

As a member of the Blood Ring clan, Yorin knew from his childhood that death is inevitable in a person’s life, and everyone will greet the arrival of death, so for the father to die, Yorin had long ago In addition to psychological preparation, like other members of the Blood Ring clan, he did not think this was a miserable parting.

Praising death and praising death is the tradition of the blood ring clan.

"Yorlin..."

Compared with the hell-roaring father and son, the communication between the dead-eye father and son is much easier. Kilrogg plays with the hunting stick reshaped by the black fire in his hand. He turns his head to look at his son:

"I'm going to die, you little boy, don't you have anything to say to me?"

"If you really need a blessing, then, I will say, I wish you a safe journey."

Jorin shrugged, and the young orc said to his father:

"You told me since childhood that death is inevitable, every blood-ring orc should learn to laugh at death, right?"

"Yes, yes, that's how I taught you."

Kilrogg shrugged. The old orc seemed to be looking very open. He moved his ten fingers, closed his eyes, leaning on the head of Malonos behind him. As if recalling the past, he said softly:

"When I was young, Jolin, in the blood ring cave of the Hellfire Peninsula, like my ancestors, I performed a blind eye ceremony, dedicated one of my eyes, and saw the illusion about my death...but Did you know? That illusion is wrong, or it should have happened, but it didn't happen..."

"I was supposed to die in the torn-off doomsday of the world of Draenor that collapsed. The death was silent, the dead bones were gone, but I didn't...I waited for the death to come, but not...it It seems that I have forgotten me and let me live till now, and finally, it found me in such a form to remind me, hey, bastard, you should come back."

The old chief said easily:

"Do you know? Compared to other people, my life has been very successful. At least when I died, I was no longer alone, and you little kid was with me."

Talking, Kilrogg turned to look at his son, a complex light flashed in his one eye:

"But my son, you have to remember...death is no longer death, it is given a deeper definition, don't be hostile to it, especially in this world."

"father!"

In the end, Jolin was not as calm as he showed. Under his robe, two fists were clenched tightly. He said with a trembling tone:

"When I performed the dead-eye ceremony... I saw something special. In that illusion, I saw me standing with you, in a huge and magnificent palace like a god, we and many others People sitting together and drinking wine...I saw a lot of people, Thrall, Garrosh, even King Varian of humans, of the Draenei..."

"That illusion...what exactly does that illusion of death represent?"

"Ok..."

Kilrogg looked at his son with a playful look, he said softly:

"It's a blessing, a blessing of death...you just need to know that it is a future, you don't need to resist it, it will come naturally..."

After that, a beating black flame burned rapidly on Kilrogg’s hunting stick, reshaping the sturdy weapon. Under the blind eye, a skeleton staff made of animal bones appeared on him. In his hands, he threw it to his son:

"The Bloodring Clan is yours, little boy."

"Now, get out! Don't bother me, let me appreciate the tranquility of this death."

————————————————

"It suits you, Thrall."

High Chief Orgrim looked at Thrall leaning on the stone in front of him with a scrutiny. The death sage Drek'Thar was using a special method to mobilize the power of the elements to heal Thrall's severely injured body. After embracing death, Drek'Thar’s use of elements became more "rough". He no longer called and pleaded for the power of elements. Instead, he controlled it, just like... the tyrant of elements.

"But it's yours, Chief Chief."

Thrall passed the black warhammer to Orgrim with difficulty. He looked at the Chieftain with his blue eyes:

"The Hammer of Destruction is your heirloom. It is also a symbol of the chieftain of the orc tribe. I have not yet qualified to hold it."

Orgrim stared at the warhammer Thrall handed over. He shrugged:

"Who do you think I should give it to? Garrosh? The fierce little **** may not need five years to bury the tribe we tried to build in the war, Dranosh? The child hides in his heart There are some things, Thrall, you know better than me. He has a knot in his heart. Before this knot is opened, he can't really make me feel at ease."

"Yorin is a blood-ring orc. There is a kind of adoration and longing for death in the blood-ring orc. He is also not suitable to be a leader of the tribe... Rexxar is too lonely, Brocks is too old, I can still rely who?"

The chieftain patted Thrall's shoulder:

"It's only you, Thrall."

"but..."

"No, I know what you want to say, and I know what you want to say."

Orgrim interrupted Thrall's rebuttal. He stretched out his hand, pressed it on the cold surface of the Hammer of Destruction, and placed the warhammer in Thrall's arms. He said:

"You would say that your soul does not look like a real orc... but how does it matter? Thrall... nobody cares what your soul is, they will only see your appearance, see Your steady style of behavior, seeing your wise thinking, seeing your excellent overall view, you have been qualified, children, all the chiefs are very satisfied with you, not to mention... we old men owe your father A love."

"If Durotan does not die, then he will be the best and the best chief of the new tribe, but unfortunately, my brother died early in the war, but fortunately, he left a blood lineage of his own."

Orgrim looked at Thrall's eyes:

"You need to be clear, Thrall, don't take the power of the chieftain as a gift, as a good thing."

"I gave you a difficult responsibility, a heavy mission, the orc and humans signed a peace agreement, which is good, but the rift between the orcs and the elves has appeared, you need to spend a lot of energy and time To make it up...Of course, you can also resort to war, which is also a solution. After the demon war, the elven civilization in the weak stage may be defeated under the joint attack of humans and orcs."

"But, is that really what we want to see?"

The chieftain shook his head. He looked back at the distant light of the sky, and he said softly:

"Saar... carry on with the tribe, but you must always be alert to this world, the outer veil of this world is being pulled away little by little, a real, cruel world will appear in front of you ..."

"I know you will make the right choice, you always do..."

Behind Thrall, the hand of Elder Draktar patted his shoulder. The old wise old orc whispered:

"The bells of the old times have already sounded, Thrall, after the humans, the old guys in the orc civilization are about to leave, then the night elves, then the draenei... a man hanging above the world Will wants to see a new world that is more powerful and more united. This is not a desire, but a demand, a coercion, a pressure..."

In the morning light of dawn, Orgrim’s black armor began to wander freely like the ashes after burning, as did the other chiefs, they were leaving, they had fulfilled their final mission, they had used their own Sacrifice won the last time for the new generation.

"Don't let him down, Thrall."

Orgrim took a step back. In the halo of dawn, he opened his arms as if to embrace the sunlight. In this dawn, the orc civilization slowly opened a new page, in the ashes. Dissipated between the rays of light, the deep voice sounded like a farewell, ringing in the ears of all young people:

"Young people, don't let us down..."

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