Stormwind Wizard God-Chapter 172: Mak’gora

"Woo woo woo--" The melodious sound of the horn seemed to come from the sky, or from the ancient times.

Desolate and heroic.

It reminds people of the world full of yellow sand, and the days when they had to fight the most ferocious beasts in extremely harsh environments in order to give their people a chance of survival.

It's either kill or be killed.

The weak have no right to survive; the strong dominate everything.

This is a primitive sound, and it also evokes the memories hidden in the hearts of countless orcs.

How many years have I not heard this call?

Mak'gora

Orcs all know that when a warrior challenges a chief to replace him, he uses this most sacred duel ritual Mak'gora.

One on one!

To the winner takes it all!

Few people know that Mak'gora, which is used to resolve conflicts and disputes among orcs and decide who will be the chief, can also be used against hostile races.

Of course, there are prerequisites.

"Blackhand, the Warchief of the Horde! On behalf of my king, Llane Wrynn, King of Stormwind, the Warchief in your eyes, I challenge you to the Mak'gora. Do you dare to accept the challenge?" Duke's voice echoed in the night sky of most of Stormwind. It was not known whether it was magic or something else, but this shout in orcish was clearly heard by the 100,000 orcs who invaded Stormwind.

Warchief Blackhand and Orgrim were walking on the streets of Stormwind Old Town with their personal soldiers, and both of them were shocked.

Mak'gora!?

Humans actually understand Mak'gora?

Almost instantly, Orgrim spat in his heart: It was that lowly traitor Garona who taught this again!

Duke's voice continued: "Our human king is different from the Warchief of your tribe. Our king is not the first warrior. It doesn't matter. Our king and the first warrior are here. As long as you defeat our first warrior Anduin Lothar in Mak'gora, our king's head will be offered to you with both hands! We are waiting for you where the light column is!"

The huge rocky palm of the Blackhand just happened to rest on a thick stone pillar on the side of the road. Almost unconsciously, the entire stone pillar was easily crushed by the huge grip. The hard stone exploded like hardened flour and scattered all over the ground.

The eyes of all the orcs around were focused on Blackhand's face.

"Warchief?" Orgrim asked tentatively.

The muscles on the ugly face of Chieftain Blackhand kept trembling, and thick blood vessels appeared on his face like whiskers. His eyes were bloodshot and red because of extreme excitement. Blackhand could feel that his body was like a fire pumping out from his heart, spreading to every corner of his body and reaching every cell in his body.

"Hahaha!" Blackhand laughed wildly. "Orcs are never afraid of challenges! No matter who's Llane or Anduin! Their heads are mine - all mine -"

Orgrim immediately understood and shouted to the person beside him: "Pass the order of the Warchief - the Warchief has decided to accept the human Mak'gora and forbids attacking the humans where the light column is!"

The messengers scattered in all directions, and soon their rough roars could be heard everywhere.

"The Warchief accepts Mak'gora and prohibits attacking humans near the light column!"

"Let's go!" The clouds dispersed, and the moonlight fell on the ground. Combined with the light of the torches, the two huge dragon-shaped skeleton shoulder ornaments on the chief's shoulders were illuminated, making them look extremely pale and creepy.

On the other side, in the church area of Stormwind City, on the steps of the Stormwind Cathedral, Llane sat on a red velvet throne with gold edges on the nine steps. Anduin and Bolvar stood on Llane's left and right, dressed in armor.

"Will the orc chieftain really come?" Bolvar asked Duke for the third time.

"Enough! Bolvar Duke's analysis is not wrong. The orc chieftain who pursues personal military exploits the most will not let go of such an opportunity." Llane gently stopped his most loyal minister.

Anduin, who stood with his sword in hand, looked more relaxed: "Don't worry, Stormwind Harbor is not far behind us. The soldiers are all behind us. If tens of thousands of troops are still unable to protect our king's safe departure, then we will all commit suicide."

Of course the orcs could not find the main force of humans, because the last 40,000 or so soldiers and civilians had already gathered quietly near Storm Harbor.

Tens of thousands of people, yet almost no sound, like a giant beast lurking in the darkness.

Not every soldier knows the arrangements made by their superiors; they are just notified and special measures will be taken to arrange their evacuation.

As for the special law, no one knew. Many people stared blankly at the piles of hay at the port pier.

The last ocean-going ship left in the afternoon.

The soldiers racked their brains but couldn't figure out how to evacuate.

But fortunately, since they were ordered to cover the retreat, these soldiers were mentally prepared to fight to the death.

However, the open space from the wall of the cathedral district to the dock is really not conducive to human beings! Moreover, the soldiers did not have any heavy weapons.

If we were to have a decisive battle with the orcs here, it would be an almost one-sided massacre.

General Tom Seamos, the leader of the Griffin Legion, who had met Duke once before, did his best to deploy the heavy infantry with large shields and spearmen with their backs to the sea in the direction of Stormwind City.

"If the orcs charge... we can at least hold out for a while." General Seamos muttered to himself.

When he heard that this plan was proposed by Duke, Seamos didn't know why he always thought of the legendary master of Duke who fought against the orcs in the Redridge Mountains.

The courage of fighting one against ten thousand and taking the enemy general's head amidst thousands of troops still deeply shakes his soul.

"Woo-woo--" A long horn sounded in the eastern area of Stormwind City.

Llane, Anduin, and Bolvar all looked up at Duke.

A faint smile appeared on Duke's lips: "The chieftain of the Horde, Blackhand, has accepted your challenge. Lothar."

Lothar's charming and resolute face also showed a smile, and he looked at Llane. Llane nodded heavily: "Go! Anduin! My life and the future of Stormwind Kingdom are in your hands."

Lothar bowed deeply, then turned to Duke and asked, "Ah, sometimes I really admire you. You have mastered the Orc language and their customs in such a short time. I and Gar... that assassin have been learning for so long, but still only know a few words of Orc language."

Duke smiled wickedly, "I found a large number of orc books in Karazhan. I read a lot, I won't lie to you."

There are no books about orcs in Karazhan. Duke is completely lying.

The once peaceful and tranquil Stormwind City has now turned into hell.

There were deer horns and trenches everywhere, and almost every relatively sturdy building in the city was transformed into a bunker with sandbags, rubble and wood. The soldiers acting as suicide squads attacked the invaders in various ways.

The javelin throwers hid behind the windows on the third floor and kept shooting at the attacking orcs. In the orc team marching along the road, orcs were constantly shot and fell to the ground, but the orc soldiers ignored them and just kept attacking.

No matter whether it was a human barricade position or a bunker converted from a mansion, the various orc clans rushed to launch wave after wave of attacks, and the green frenzy submerged one position after another.

First it was the Draenei capital of Shattrath, then it was Stormwind, the human city. Which city will be next?

The orc soldiers didn't think much about it. The excitement and sense of honor of conquering the enemy's capital had already made them lose their minds.

Most of Stormwind City was already engulfed in flames, but the human positions were stacked one after another, like a woman's thousand-gauze skirt. Whenever they tore through a position, the next one would appear in their field of vision. They didn't even have time to plant the clan's flag, as a human position responsible for covering it would be rained down with javelins.

The fortifications that covered each other and seemed endless gave the attacking orc commander a headache.

The bloodletting of the Horde was expanding unnoticed.

When the fighting was extremely brutal in every area, a large and silent team came straight to the cathedral area of Stormwind City.

Here, with their backs against the huge and magnificent Stormwind Cathedral, nearly a thousand royal guards stood with swords in hand, ready for battle.

Over there, the Warchief's orc guards, who were more muscular than ordinary orcs and had an average height of nearly three meters, came with Warchief Blackhand and Orgrim.

These elite orc guards were dressed in thick black leather armor that covered almost their entire bodies, wearing ferocious shoulder armor that towered into the sky and had sharp bone spikes, and wearing all-iron horn helmets carefully crafted by the best orc laborers. They held in one hand a huge battle axe confiscated from humans.

The huge battle axes that these humans must wield with two hands to lift are just one-handed axes for the elite orc guards.

Llane's eyes narrowed.

The green crowd separated to the left and right like a tide. The giant Chieftain Blackhand, who was probably over three and a half meters tall, strode forward with Orgrim holding the Hammer of Doom.

With every step the chief took on the blue bricks of the church area, the bricks and stones beneath his feet groaned under the heavy weight.

The Blackhand stopped thirty meters away from the steps, and its ferocious eyes, which were bigger than cow eyes, swept from the human side to the right.

His eyes were easily fixed on King Llane, who was wearing a golden helmet and armor and was extremely flamboyant.

"I am Blackhand, the Warchief of the Horde. Are you the Warchief of the Stormwind Clan?" Blackhand's rumbling voice shook the eardrums of all the humans on the side.

Blackhand naturally spoke in Orcish. Llane, Lothar and others all turned their heads slightly to look at the translator Duke.

"This guy is the orc chieftain Blackhand, and he is asking your majesty about your identity." Duke answered in a proper manner.

"Tell him." Llane said.

Duke bowed slightly, then turned to Blackhand, with his left palm facing up, and made an introduction gesture, saying in Orcish: "Blackhand! The man in front of you is His Majesty Llane Wrynn, King of Stormwind Kingdom - a distant descendant of Emperor Thoradin of the Arathor Empire, the only human empire a thousand years ago, and the current leader of the Alliance of Seven Human Kingdoms."

Well, Duke's translator went off track on purpose.

No one in the Horde could speak human language, and no one in Stormwind could really speak orcish, so Duke could only translate it in a few words. Anyway, listening to Duke's tone, it was no different from the introduction of the ceremonial officer, and no one noticed that Duke was about to do something bad.

Duke then pointed his finger at Lothar and said, "This is the direct descendant of Emperor Thoradin and the strongest warrior of mankind—Sir Anduin Lothar."

Seeing Duke introduce himself, Lothar stood at attention, drew his sword, made a sword flower, and then held the sword upright in front of his chest.

Blackhand was a simple-minded guy. He blinked, pointed at Llane, and replied in a rumbling voice: "You mean to say that Llane is not only the chief of this clan, but also the chief of seven clans?"

Duke quickly repeated Blackhand's words.

"Reply to him. Use a more authoritative tone." Llane said softly.

Duke used a chicken feather as a token of authority: "Blackhand! Your Majesty, please have mercy on your low brain capacity... Well, anyway, you simple-minded guys can't tell the difference between a clan and a kingdom. It's up to you. You can think that His Majesty Llane Wrynn is the chieftain."

Blackhand didn't understand what "low brain capacity" meant, but he felt it was an insult and he got angry.

"Roar——" A terrifying roar from a lung capacity of at least 20,000 milliliters. That ferocious roar easily reminds people of a roaring giant bear.

At the same time, Orgrim smashed his hammer to the ground. The huge bang once again ravaged the eardrums of every human. Orgrim cursed: "How dare you! You, the king of a small kingdom that is about to perish, have no right to look down on our chieftain."

"Hmph! Destruction? You are such a superficial person who doesn't know how vast the territory of Azeroth is... Hmph! Stormwind is just a southern country of the human alliance. Even if you capture Stormwind, it is just equivalent to destroying a clan of the Horde." Duke showed no sign of weakness.

The orcs showed signs of going crazy, and Lothar was not willing to be outdone. He raised his sword and all the royal guards put down their shields. The sharp swords stood upright in the gaps between the shields, like poisonous snakes about to pop out.

For a time, the two sides were on the verge of a fight.

Blackhand's huge black rock arm stood in front of Orgrim.

"Forget it, human! I admit that your king is barely qualified to send someone to challenge me, but orcs only accept challenges from the bravest alien warriors..." After Blackhand finished speaking, without even a glance, one of Blackhand's extremely burly bodyguards, holding an axe, suddenly took three steps forward.

Orgrim shouted: "If that Anduin is really the first warrior of mankind, let him prove himself!"

Duke turned around and said, "Hey, Anduin, Blackhand only accepts challenges from the most capable warriors of mankind. You must kill that guy first."

Lothar tilted his head: "Just one sentence?"

Duke asked back: "Does Blackhand despise us and say that Stormwind Kingdom is just a small kingdom and we need to translate every word?"

Llane smiled: "Anduin, don't be so sensitive, our chief court mage will know what's going on."

"Okay, if we kill this guy, the other side's chief will fight me, right?"

"right!"

Lothar walked down the stairs leisurely, and his pair of metal boots made clanging sounds as he stepped on the marble steps.

"It feels bad to be looked down upon. Is it because I didn't kill enough orcs on the battlefield?" Lothar laughed at himself as he walked.

"Later, you can hold up Blackhand's big head and look down on the orcs." It was obviously Duke who was in charge of all this, causing Blackhand and Lothar, who should not have fought at this time, to fight each other, but Duke was full of confidence.

In the original 'history', Blackhand's death was somewhat pathetic.

After Orgrim used torture to find out the location of the Shadow Council, he decisively challenged Blackhand's Mak'gora in front of thousands of orcs.

In that duel, Blackhand had the absolute upper hand for a time. His huge rocky hand completely ignored Orgrim's hammer and easily beat him to a pulp. But the sinister Orgrim took action. During the duel, he suddenly looked behind Blackhand in astonishment, as if he saw Gul'dan, and his mouth seemed to say "Gul'dan".

Blackhand, who was reckless but brave, actually believed it. He was distracted for a moment, and Orgrim immediately took the opportunity to blow him in the head with a hammer.

Hehehe!

Chieftain Blackhand might be extremely powerful, but Blackhand is a mentally retarded child... If Lothar really can't beat him, then Lothar's name should be written backwards as Salo Induan.

Well, it has nothing to do with the honest, just and righteous young man Duke.

"Ahhh—"

The orc guards charged, and once their huge bodies charged, they were no different from a running rhino. The terrifying feeling of oppression was enough to scare anyone with a weak courage to the point of peeing.

Getting closer!

Getting closer!

Closer!

The huge double-edged battle axe suddenly chopped down on his head, and under the moonlight, it created a cold arc of light. It was a terrible violence that was enough to split an adult man, shield and body, in half from head to toe in one breath.

However, Lothar performed a 'Marseille turn'.

Forgive Duke for using a football term to describe Lothar.

But after seeing through the enemy's simple and crude attack Road, the coach forced Lothar to make an extremely gorgeous turn in an instant. This action reminded Duke of Zidane...

Just as elegant and full of artistic beauty.

Lothar turned around using his left foot as a fulcrum and easily dodged the axe strike like thunder. Then he held the sword in his reverse hand and pushed lightly as if he was performing a sword dance. The sharp sword of the king pierced into the gap between the helmet and armor of the orc guard who turned slightly to the right.

Blood splattered everywhere.

The sword pierced the orc guard's jaw without any hindrance and went straight into the brain.

Until the moment of death, the orc's eyes were still full of confusion and horror.

And Lothar's long flowing hair, which was blown up by the rapid rotation, now lay obediently on his shoulders under the action of gravity.

Kill enemies easily without messing up your hairstyle.

handsome!

So cool!

And it's a one-hit kill!

He gently pulled out his sword and let the huge body of the dead orc fall down with a bang. Blood gushed out behind him. Lothar swung his sword, and the dirty blood beads fell onto the floor tiles.

Lothar slowly walked towards Blackhand.

One step, one step, and another step.

With every step he takes, his unparalleled dominance grows a little stronger.

"Hiss——" The orcs all gasped.

They had the same thought: this guy is indeed worthy of being the first warrior of mankind.

"Hahaha!" Chief Blackhand let out a hearty laugh.

He was not angry at all because of the death of the guards. Instead, Lothar's gorgeous steps, which were almost like dancing steps, attracted his attention deeply. He spread his hands, pushed away the guards who were blocking his side and front, and walked forward proudly.

"Hahahaha! Not bad! You're pretty good! I think you're qualified to challenge me."

Translator Duke: "Anduin, this arrogant guy agrees to fight you."

Lothar stood ten meters away from the Blackhand and smiled: "Duke, tell this guy to smile more while he can. I don't want him to have such an ugly smile on his face when I cut off his head."

Duke translated.

Blackhand didn't care. The taunting before the fight was definitely a regular part of the duel: "Tell this human warrior that I will pickle and preserve any warrior's head."

Before Duke could translate, Lothar cursed in a low voice, "You who said those harsh words, just deal with it yourself. I don't know if he will think I want to kiss his shoes if I call him a coward."

"Orcs don't wear shoes." Duke shrugged.

Lothar rolled his eyes at Duke, who said helplessly, "Okay."

"Blackhand! We humans are much more civilized than you. Lothar said he would cut off your head and freeze it to keep it fresh and intact."

If any human knew that Duke translated it this way, they would definitely complain: How civilized can this be?

But the orcs didn't care at all.

Perhaps, it is because of the powerful enemy killed by Mak'gora that it is worth preserving the enemy's head.

At this time, Orgrim strode forward with the Blackrock Clan's ghostly battle flag in one hand and handed it to Blackhand.

The Warchief casually dropped the flag to the ground, looked directly at Lothar, and then at Duke.

Duke understood.

"Your Majesty, when the orcs throw down the battle flag, it means they are putting the honor of the entire clan on the line. If we want the duel to stand, we must do the same."

Llane nodded, and a flag bearer behind him walked down the steps with his head held high and chest puffed out, handing the golden lion flag with a blue background and gold edges to Lothar, who had returned his sword to its sheath.

Lothar took the battle flag and threw it out as well, just hitting the battle flag of the Blackrock Clan.

Of course, the orcs would not realize Lothar's little thoughts.

"Mak'gora!" Orgrim raised his arms and shouted, his roar like thunder.

Orgrim's roar was echoed by hundreds of orcs. In an instant, thousands of orcs shouted in unison: "Mak'gora——"

"Ahu-Ahu-Ahu-Ahu-Ahu-" Every orc kept raising and lowering his weapon, making that primitive and heroic sound.

Of course, Stormwind Kingdom refused to show weakness. King Llane stood up resolutely, holding the shield in his left hand and hitting the shield hard with the king's sword in his right hand.

"Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-" Hundreds of thousands of royal guards performed the same action.

With a cold glow, each lion emblem shield looked like a ferocious lion roaring. In this way, the warriors of the Stormwind created a momentum that was no less powerful than that of the Horde.

In the air, it seemed as if millions of swords and billions of axes and hammers were colliding fiercely.

Invisible flashes of swords and shadows filled every corner of the night sky.

"Come--" Lothar drew out his sword again. Under the strong night wind, his hair flew up fluffy. From a distance, Lothar's hair looked like the long mane of a lion.

"Ha!" The chief took heavy steps that shook the heavens and the earth, and rushed towards Lothar...

If the orc guards just now were running rhinos, then the chieftain's charge at this moment was like a heavy tank speeding at high speed.

The terrifying might of the violent and invincible force moved the four-digit human warriors in the audience.

Chieftain Blackhand, who is nearly three and a half meters tall, is an absolute giant among both humans and orcs.

Some people might think that a giant as tall and huge as Blackhand would be slow in his movements, but in fact, any enemy or challenger who had this idea would have their heads crushed by Blackhand.

High strength means low speed, high speed means low strength, this formula does not apply to black hands.

Blackhand is not only fast and strong, he also has an advantage that no one else has - his weapons are his hands.

People often say that someone can wield a sword as if it were an extension of their arm, which is a very high level. However, no matter how flexible a weapon is, it can never be more flexible than your own hands.

The Blackhand has the upper hand.

When he helped Orgrim fish the Hammer of Destruction out of the lava, he almost lost his arms. The blazing heat that ordinary people cannot bear, coupled with the amazing concentration of fire elements, if it were an ordinary person's arms, they would have been completely charred into charcoal and broken in the lava.

But Blackhand, with his strong willpower, strength, muscles, and natural resistance to fire, managed to withstand the test of the fiery hell in the crater. A large amount of fire elements attached to his arms and palms, destroying more than half of Blackhand's hand nerves and completely turning all the surface skin and some muscles below his arms into rock.

The pair of heavy, black and shiny giant hands had a strange luster between stone and metal. Although every joint below the arms could rotate flexibly, it was obviously no longer a living thing.

If anyone is foolish enough to try to cut off Blackhand's arm, then in the end, his head will fall off.

Of course Lothar wouldn't fall for it. Duke had repeatedly reminded him in advance that if Lothar fell for it, then he would not be Lothar, but Lothar the Sha.

Lothar also took small steps and rushed towards Blackhand.

The next second, a strong wind blew up from the ground.

Before Blackhand made his move, no one would have thought that a simple sweep of the tribal chief's left arm could have such terrifying power.

It was the overwhelming feeling that should have occurred when the whole house collapsed. The strong wind alone was enough to press every inch of muscle on the face against the bones such as teeth. It was impossible to open the eyes, let alone see clearly in front of you.

For a moment, Duke had the illusion that Lothar was killed instantly without any suspense.

It's so scary.

That is a power and speed that cannot be understood by the poor imagination of mankind.

It feels as if the other person picked up the door panel of the church and hit you with it horizontally to make you into a meat paste. The last sentence that remains in your mind is "Impossible"!

Fortunately, Duke's reason dispelled his illusion. If he had really taken action just now and disturbed this duel that was extremely sacred in the eyes of the orcs, it would have been a real disaster.

Lothar dodged it, pounced like a tiger, and then rolled forward to the right to avoid the violent left hand sweep of the chieftain. Not only that, while rolling, Lothar also used the blade of the King's Sword to pull Blackhand's thigh, which was as thick as a cow's leg.

Blood flew.

A long bloodstain appeared on the chief's left thigh.

Blackhand's leg armor was completely useless, as if the precious leather armor was just a piece of thin paper that would shred if torn.

But this was not the end. The Blackhand actually swung his right fist and turned like a whirlwind, and the huge fist suddenly slammed down from the upper right to the lower left.

A loud noise almost like a sonic boom suddenly sounded in the dark sky.

The fist that came down didn't look like a giant stone object at all, but like a ball of hot and boiling lava.

Is it equivalent to the release of fire elements like a wizard throwing a fireball?

How is this possible!?

Obviously, within a certain range, Blackhand possesses the power to manipulate the element of fire, and his level of control is quite high, even above Duke, the archmage.

Duke's heart froze for a moment! If the people who surrounded him when he set the fire a while ago were not Kilrogg Deadeye, Orgrim and Samuro, but Blackhand... If he had tricked him, he might have really had to run away with the corpse.

Super high temperature comparable to lava.

An overwhelming force that can kill with just one touch.

No matter which of these two points you hit, you will die.

Every human warrior forgot to breathe and stared at Lothar's figure, who was so tiny in front of Blackhand.

However, Lothar still dodged it, with a strange movement that was a bit like a spring rebound. The left hand holding the shield suddenly slapped the shield against the ground, and using the reaction force of the arm bouncing off the ground, Lothar actually flew into the air and dodged along the edge of the fist like a juggler.

With a "hiss", the armor under Lothar's left rib was scratched, and the armor, which was at least five millimeters thick, was torn off as a whole, easier than tearing bread by hand.

Suddenly, a huge fire pit one meter square appeared on the ground.

"Hiss—" Llane stood up suddenly in fear. Every human warrior was worried about Lothar.

Only Lothar stood up and curled his lips nonchalantly, as if the guy who almost died just now was not him.

"Haha! I like your head more and more! Anduin!" Blackhand laughed wildly and launched a violent attack on Lothar without paying attention to the wound on his thigh.

Duke Translated.

"Me too." Lothar dodged in a somewhat awkward manner. He was a warrior, but it was like he had activated the rogue's special skill Dodge, with a 100% dodge rate!

Duke translated again.

"Okay - okay - let's fight each other!" The speed of Blackhand's giant rock hand suddenly increased again.

It was a speed that was almost as fast as a sword storm of a sword master.

Unfortunately, Blackhand still can't cause any effective damage.

Lothar couldn't dodge every attack, but he took quick and accurate T-steps while swinging the epic shield on his left arm tightly. With his nimble steps, clever angle deflection, precise force release, and perfect use of various warrior professional skills, Lothar was able to fight Blackhand on equal terms.

No, that's not right!

Because Blackhand's attacks were more powerful, Lothar's ghostly attacks left Blackhand with dozens of wounds of varying depths. With Blackhand's fierce movements, each wound was bleeding.

Yes! This is bloodletting!

For a while, Blackhand could hold on with his physical strength, but over time, the balance of victory would definitely tip towards Lothar, provided that Lothar was not hit hard.

That's the difference in size.

Blackhand, who has stronger vitality, can make many mistakes, but once Lothar makes a mistake, he will be killed instantly.

The rough roars of the orcs and the orderly sound of humans beating shields resounded throughout Stormwind City.

Everyone worships heroes. Even in large-scale battles, when individual strength seems increasingly weak, this bloody and heroic fight still stimulates the adrenaline of every spectator, secreting a substance called "fanaticism".

Only a true master could see that the balance of victory was still slowly shifting towards humans.

Orgrim was anxious.

Warchief Blackhand must die, but not at the hands of humans.

In a one-on-one life-and-death duel, the stronger and braver Orc Chieftain actually died at the hands of a weak human?

That would be a shame, a shame for the entire tribe and all orcs.

Even if the orcs conquered the entire planet of Azeroth one day in the future, they would still be nailed to the pillar of shame and pass on this humiliation. Although he wished that Blackhand would die quickly, Orgrim knew that at this moment, his interests were the same as Blackhand's.

Suddenly, the Warchief used his ultimate move.

He suddenly turned his hand and grabbed the two complete dragon skeletons on his shoulders, which looked a bit like crocodile skeletons. The next moment, the Blackhand suddenly threw the two skeletons out.

In less than one hundredth of a second, the skeleton composed of hundreds of bone joints exploded. In the blink of an eye, it turned into hundreds of fragmentation bombs containing blazing fire elements, shooting wildly towards Lothar.

Originally, Lothar had a chance to dodge, but at this moment, Orgrim cheated.

"Good--" It sounded like the adjutant Orgrim was cheering for his boss.

You can yell if you want, why use the intimidating power of "Lion's Roar"? No! This is already the warrior's Fear-Breaking Roar!

The deafening roar, at least 150 decibels, obviously affected Lothar.

Lothar's whole body trembled, and in this moment of trembling, Lothar lost the opportunity to dodge. There was no way, even an experienced old warrior like Lothar could not make a good remedy after missing the opportunity.

Lothar gave up dodging, resolutely knelt down on one knee, and huddled his whole body behind the shield to withstand the attack.

"Bang, bang, bang!" The fierce attack was comparable to machine gun fire, almost completely blowing up Lothar's shield. After a round of fire skeletons swept through, Lothar's shield became tattered, and light shone through several places. Fortunately, Lothar himself was not injured.

The consequences were serious, Lothar completely lost the skill of Block.

"What are you doing!?" Llane, Bolvar, and several high-ranking generals shouted similarly at the same time.

After Duke translated, Orgrim sneered: "I didn't interfere! If a true warrior can't even withstand the enemy's cheers, then he should die."

His words almost drove Llane and the others crazy.

At this time, Duke suddenly showed the same sneer: "You mean, using words and sounds to influence the enemies in the field is not considered cheating!?"

Orgrim said nothing, which was undoubtedly a sign of acquiescence.

Over there, Lothar was in dire straits.

In terms of absolute strength and speed, Blackhand was superior to Lothar. Without his shield and unable to dodge, Lothar could only use his long sword to parry Blackhand's attack. For Blackhand's hands that were as powerful as heavy hammers, a light weapon like a long sword was at a disadvantage, and unless he was psychic, a long sword would never be more flexible than his own hands.

The Sword of Kings had consumed a lot of its power in the last attack on Medivh. Lothar calculated that he could not use the power of the sword to chop off Blackhand's claws.

Lothar looked stern.

Llane, Bolvar and the others were trembling all over. Llane almost wanted to tear his face off first and let his men do it. But in the end, they still focused their attention on Duke.

"Watch me throw the cup as a signal!" Duke said.

Once again, Blackhand had pushed Lothar into a desperate situation.

It was a corner of the square, with towering marble walls on both sides, leaving no room to dodge.

"Anduin Lothar, I will remember your name, but go to hell—" The Warchief roared with determination for victory.

At this second, the orcs' cheers reached their peak, and the fierce shouts almost blew away the clouds in the sky.

They praised the greatness of the Warchief and the bravery of Blackhand.

As long as the first human warrior is killed, the head of the human chieftain will be within reach. This symbolizes that the invincible orcs have once again conquered the weak alien race!

Supreme honor!

The best Mak'gora!

The next moment, the chief's hands would shoot out like lightning, carrying with them scorching heat and the roar of death.

That was the death of Lothar! The defeat of Mak'gora! The defeat of the entire Stormwind and even the "Alliance" that might appear in the future.

Without Lothar, there would be no sign of the descendants of Emperor Thoradin. It would still be a question whether the seven human kingdoms, each looking after their own interests, could still unite.

At this moment, even Lothar's handsome face lost all the color.

Every human watching the fight clenched their fists.

At this critical moment, Duke's light words reached the ears of the chief.

"If I tell you that the Shadow Council sent someone to murder Orgrim's friend Durotan, and that Orgrim is plotting to overthrow you, the Warchief, and that as long as he can get the whereabouts of the Shadow Council from the captured Garona, he will kill you, and then wipe out the Shadow Council that killed his friend. What would you think? Warchief..."

In this split second, Duke couldn't possibly say such a long speech. But Duke finished speaking in this split second.

This is a spell duplication technique used exclusively by mages.

By extracting all the important syllables from a long sentence and connecting them together, and then compressing them, a long spell can be turned into a short paragraph.

Of course, the sound produced is equivalent to pressing dozens of piano keys at the same time. To human hearing, this is simply impossible to distinguish noise.

Most of the Spell Overlays only shortened a three-second spell to one second, which was already quite remarkable.

Duke has a system AI. This strongest king system can make the impossible possible.

The long paragraph was abruptly condensed into a single note.

But the Warchief Blackhand, who was the recipient, heard every word clearly.

As a die-hard Gul'dan, a puppet among puppets, and a model of being used by others and having to help others count money, the Warchief was furious and suddenly turned his head to look at Orgrim.

"Orgrim! Ah——"

Lothar didn't know why Blackhand was stunned, but that didn't prevent him from sliding beautifully between Blackhand's legs and stabbing Blackhand's thigh with a sword.

There is a kind of pain in the world called testicular pain, which is also said to be the worst pain for men.

Blackhand couldn't control his body at all and bent over in pain. The next second, seeing the opportunity, Lothar made a brilliant move from behind to pierce his chest.

The majestic King's Sword was once again used for a backstab, and the sharp blade pierced through Blackhand's chest.

But Blackhand ignored it, pointed at Orgrim, and roared the last time in his life: "You traitor—"

Time was completely frozen.

A moment ago, the Warchief was going smoothly, and countless orcs were cheering for the Warchief's victory. The enthusiastic cheers almost reached the starry sky. On the human side, everyone was sweating, wishing they could attack on the spot and kill the monster chieftain who was about to kill their great hero Anduin Lothar.

The next moment, the plot took a 180-degree turn. Lothar, who was supposed to be killed, miraculously turned the tables. First, he taught Blackhand a lesson with a painful sword, and then he added a gorgeous backstab. No one could see that the warchief was going to die. In this duel, Lothar had the last laugh.

A few seconds later, the orcs who seemed to be stuck by the neck suddenly became more commotion.

No, this wasn't a riot, this was a full-blown insurrection.

At first, no orc could accept the death of the warchief. Why would the great, invincible warchief die at the hands of a weak human? Even if this human seemed to be very agile, courageous and courageous. But out of blind worship of the warchief, no orc could accept it!

However, the Warchief's roar before his death gave all the orcs a reason.

The two sentences together mean: "Orgrim - you traitor!"

traitor?

Why would Orgrim, who was loyal to the Warchief, become a traitor?

Did Orgrim do something to the Warchief?

The orc's simple thought process was too complicated for him to understand for a while.

It doesn't matter, Duke did a good job of being a pusher.

In the houses on both sides where the orcs gathered, someone suddenly shouted in orcish: "We are Shadow Destroyers!"

At least one-third of the orcs at the scene were stunned for a full second. Then, when they reacted, they immediately used the axes and machetes in their hands to chop at the Blackrock Clan warriors around them, especially Blackhand's guards.

At the same time, a huge flaming cup appeared in Duke's hand. Duke pushed it hard, and the huge cup was thrown to the place where the Blackhand Guards were most concentrated, immediately causing a burst of howling.

King Llane and Bolvar were the most embarrassed. Anyway, their expressions translated into: Damn, is it really a toss for a signal? ?

All the trivialities are unimportant, what matters is that Duke sent the signal.

In the surrounding rooms, nearly a hundred people shouted in Orcish at the same time: "Revenge for Durotan!"

In response to this shout, dozens of Frostwolf clan flags were erected in the house next door.

At this moment, all the Blackrock Clan orc warriors who were confused just now "understood". Why did the Warchief lose the battle? It must be Orgrim's doing!

It's very simple. Everyone knows that Orgrim and Durotan, the chieftain of the Frostwolf clan, are close friends who have been through thick and thin together. But after passing through the Dark Portal and coming to this world, Durotan was exiled by the entire tribe because he opposed Gul'dan.

Now it sounds like Durotan is dead. This would explain why Orgrim betrayed the Warchief... because Orgrim wanted to avenge his best friend!

So the warriors of the Blackrock Clan were furious on the spot.

"Orgrim - you great traitor! Have you forgotten the grace shown to you by the Warchief?"

"Orgrim! Have you forgotten that it was the Warchief who sacrificed his own hands to help you fish out the Doomhammer?"

"Orgrim - you are not worthy of being a great orc!"

"Orgrim, you actually colluded with humans to murder the Warchief!?"

The angry roar went straight to the sky and could be heard clearly several blocks away. This time, not only the Blackrock Clan, but also the clans that were burning, killing and looting in other districts heard it.

Orgrim was completely stunned. His mind was full of question marks.

The matter of treason is an absolute secret!

Why do humans know that rebellious slogan?

Why did the humans know that they were rebelling because of Durotan's death?

What methods did the humans use to make the Warchief suddenly determine in a duel that the traitor was him, Orgrim?

Orgrim's thoughts were in a complete mess!

Yes! He did prepare a rebellion, but it was an orcish uprising.

As long as Blackhand is killed in the sacred Mak'gora, even if other clans are dissatisfied, Orgrimmar is still a legitimate "rebel". As long as he obtains the position of Warchief, he can reasonably accuse Gul'dan of using demonic means to poison the orcs and purge the Shadow Council. The code "We are Shadow Destroyers" is only used to suppress any Blackrock Clan orcs who do not obey his orders after he obtains the position of Warchief.

However, all hell breaks loose.

The Warchief died at the hands of a human sword in Mak'gora because of "Orgrim's betrayal". His men also launched an attack on the Blackhand Guards based on that secret signal. The flags of the Frostwolf Clan pushed him and his men completely to the opposite side of the entire tribe.

What is going on! ?

Orgrim only felt that there was an invisible evil hand lurking behind him, viciously harming him.

This is really like mud falling out of one's crotch. It's either shit or shit. There is no way he can explain it clearly.

At this time, Duke shouted in Orcish: "I don't know what you orcs are up to. But the winner of Mak'gora is our Anduin Lothar!"

It would have been fine if Duke didn't roar, but once he roared, Orgrim actually developed telepathy.

This was an intuition beyond reason. Orgrim instinctively felt that this powerful and insidious young human wizard Duke was the culprit of everything.

Duke blocked his attempt to capture Stormwind Keep.

Duke burned down half of Elwynn Forest, forcing the Horde to split up its forces early.

It was this Duke again who led this strange Makgora from beginning to end!

"Of course you must remember me, because I will become your nightmare!" Duke's words that day still echoed in Orgrim's ears.

Looking at the mysterious smile on Duke's lips, at that moment, Orgrim was extremely sure that it was all Duke's doing!

"Edmund Duke—" Orgrim finally remembered Duke's name. In the form of an old enemy! With hatred as a mark!

But, so what?

Orgrim tried to rush forward with Doomhammer in hand, but found himself being attacked desperately by two highly skilled captains of the Blackhand Guards. He could not rush forward until he had dealt with them.

Over there, Lothar had successfully cut off Blackhand's huge head, and rushed over with the head in one hand and the sword in the other. Bolvar was protecting Llane and was quickly retreating to Stormwind Harbor.

There was infinite surprise on Lothar's face: "It worked?"

"Done! Let's go!"