Stormwind God

Orgrim was irritable.

The failure to cross the sea to attack South China Sea is already a shame on his chieftain's resume. Although everyone knows, this is just a relatively large-scale tentative attack by Orgrim. Because the main clan that actually fought only had more than 25,000 war songs, most of the remaining soldiers came from small and medium clan.

But failure is failure. There is no concept of offense in the eyes of simple or rude orcs.

Most of them thought that Stormwind was captured by the black-handed chief, and Orgrim just turned back and picked up an empty city. But Ironforge, which should have become Orgrim's record, has been slow to completely capture it.

It's not that Kilrogg's dead-eyed blood ring clan didn't work hard, but when he attacked near the gate of Ironforge, the blood ring clan's warrior was stuck. No orc can withstand the three-dimensional, all-round cannon fodder strike.

Many times there is a hole in the mountain wall unexpectedly, and a lethal shot, or a gun, or even a cannon, will be ejected inside.

The biggest record was to advance into the doorway, and almost entered the dwarf's core area, and then the warrior who was killed encountered the dwarf's pocket array made with steam tanks and various cannons.

The orc warriors were so gray.

This has nothing to do with courage, it is simply a matter of fighting philosophy.

Just now, the news came, that was another failure of Orgrim.

The news of the Pathfinder Fleet returned from the Swamp of Sorrows was that the ocean-going fleet he had painstakingly built was almost wiped out, and he could hardly return even one.

"From the shore to the deepest sea, a super giant whirlpool that spans the entire sea area?" Orgrim felt that the orc's luck had run out, although he didn't believe it.

Before, he may still be thinking about the blessing of the ancestor's spirit, but after almost all the orc shaman abandoned the tradition and transferred from shaman to warlock, he had never heard of any warlock who could sense the call of Mother Earth.

Orgrim had to face that winter was coming. By the end of this winter, he is unlikely to be able to organize a decent cross-sea battle.

Wetland, as the name suggests, is an area made up of a large number of swamps and shallow puddles. Wintering here is a nightmare. The orcs are hard-working and hard-working, but if there is a choice, no one will be willing to spend winter in such a wet and cold place.

Shortly after Orgrim took over as chief of war, the disadvantages of a little prestige began to appear.

He didn't have enough energy to subdue the irritable chiefs. And it seems that the requirements are so reasonable.

"We are willing to fight for the tribe. But at least give us a peaceful winter. Unless it is a genocide, no clan will choose to fight in the winter."

"We have laid down an entire continent, and the tribal warriors are very tired, and winter is the time to produce the next generation of tribal warriors, and I cannot oppose this tradition."

What is the orc winter doing? As long as there is enough food, all the orcs are grilled on fire, eating the saved food, hugging the female orc and the little orcs.

This is the tradition of the orcs who have not known for tens of thousands of years.

Orgrim reluctantly agreed to withdraw the army to the south, a more comfortable area of ​​Lockerdam. And to appease his Blackrock clan, he even moved most of the Blackrock clan orcs back to Elwynn Forest.

Of course, the orcs of the Blackrock clan are also willing to rush for more than half a month to return to this territory that was sacrificed after sacrificing more than 100,000 fellows. After all, it is warmer, and not all the forests burned by Duke, and there are a lot of trees that can be used as charcoal for winter heating.

Orgrim's only comfort was that his new deputy, Chief of the Dragonmaw Clan and Shaman Zuluhed, brought him that news, and that Gul'dan, his biggest heart attack, was injured.

He went to see Gul'dan yesterday:

This tribe's former ruler is in a bad shape.

"Sorry, Chief, human beings have a very powerful mage. Although I have also severely damaged him, it is obvious that I can no longer work for the tribe for a long time." Gul'dan was not just talking. Angry with hairspring, his shoulders were completely covered with huge ice cubes.

It should be said that half of the body was embedded in an ice cube.

Orgrim squinted. He didn't see the ice magic of a human mage, but he was the first to see such horror. An ice cone pierced Gul'dan's shoulder, centered on the wound, and a terrible cold energy gathered there.

Orgrim rudely smashed nearly half the volume of ice with [Hammer of Destruction], but it was useless. The ice was like an amoeba that could add value infinitely. In just a few seconds, it returned to its original state. .

Orgrim frowned.

"This is a mysterious way of energy called the Arcane Circuit. The strong man injected part of his power into my body and formed an independent cycle. Before the power was destroyed, my injury It cannot be cured. "

Orgrim nodded. "Have a good injury."

Orgrim walked away and didn't even ask Gul'dan to provide the Horde with more death knights.

Who knew that just before Orgrim had left, Gul'dan sneered over there. In front of his own confidant, the double-headed ogre magician Gujar, the ice on his shoulders shattered, seemingly extremely cold and powerful ice cones, leaving only a small chopstick on the shoulder of Gul'dan on.

"Orgrim, you idiot who doesn't know what power is. Good, back to your war. I have other things to do, because you can rest assured that I will have more freedom to focus on These things. I will continue to play this loyal warlock who was honored and hurt by the tribe. But I swear ... this will not be forever. Soon I will get what I seek, and then you and this tribe will disappear forever before me. I will set up a new force to replace you, a force that is only loyal to me, and then I will transform the world according to my plan! Hahaha! "

Gul'dan laughed wildly, and his laughter greatly encouraged the remaining warlocks in the Shadow Council ...

After Orgrim left, he took the guard straight and walked towards the clan of the Dragon Roar.

Beside the patriarch's large account, Orgrim saw a thin and crumpled old orc, but there were still a pair of sharp brown-red eyes under the gray tattered braid.

"Zulushid!" Orgrim shouted.

The old orc shaman glanced at the voice, and found that the chief warrior was calling his name, and immediately stood up, pushing away the wine glass and plate in front of him. (To be continued.)