Generally speaking, humans in Azeroth don't really play with gunpowder.

The most depressing blast maniac is the goblins, and every year there are at least three digits of goblin scientists, who send themselves into N parts to the sky or stick to the walls in the midst of flames and explosions.

Relatively speaking, it is the dwarf who is safe, that is, the level of fifty steps and a hundred steps, and the dwarf's thing is just that it did not die so miserably.

But the arrival of sand sculpture players has rewritten this pattern.

When these so-called operatives got a large number of [heavy stones] from the mines of McDonald's and processed them into [dense explosive powder], the big bombing plan was automatically put on the agenda.

After testing, it was found that the power of [Dense Explosive Powder] was far superior to black powder, but inferior to TNT, one by one copycats [Fat Man] and [Little Boy] were put on the agenda.

Lack of transport?

Gryphon parallel transport arrangement.

Lack of bomb casings?

Tsersilver shell to find out.

Not powerful enough?

Add 100 million magic agate!

For players who don't have a lot of money, they add a lot of magic gems to it, so that the mayor in charge of logistics, Bassoras, almost has a heart attack.

What the hell is this, magic gems are more than gunpowder, right?

People are mixing milk into the water, and the player is playing tricks, and it becomes sprinkling water into the highly concentrated milk tablets.

Outsiders thought that the large number of fragile magic gems could not withstand the violent turbulence of the griffin's flight.

However, the amazing player who has been trained on 'how to make an egg fall high in the air in a box without breaking' has 'invented' the clever trick of securing the gem with a sock.

Specifically, the fragile magic agate is placed in the middle of a sock, and then the ends of the sock are knotted, and then the sock is lengthened, and the mouth and end of the sock are fixed to the metal wall of the bomb's core. The outside of the socks is stuffed with a large amount of cotton to absorb shock.

Finally, if the dense explosive powder contained in the outer layer is fused to trigger an explosion, it will chain the magic gem to shatter, releasing the amazing energy contained inside.

This makes the final power of the bomb far superior to that of a TNT bomb of the same size.

Of course, the price is too.

A bomb costs more than 30,000 gold coins!

Stratholme's buyers bought almost all the magic gems available on the market in Dalaran, and because of the disruption of the market, they were interfered with by the Kenrito Council, and in the end 'only' only 7 were made.

Since the beginning of its construction, Lothar has received a large number of complaints, and the people of all ethnic groups dislike these guys incomparably.

To Lothar's surprise, the imaginary explosion of the R&D phase did not happen.

When the Copycat Stuka bombs the bird (griffon) and accurately drops the 500-pound bomb in the middle of the orc camp with a dive bomb, the apocalyptic sight terrifies the orcs.

The flames from the explosion and the small mushroom cloud were secondary, and the point was that the terrifying sound really scared the orcs.

Many uneducated orcs were really frightened by this huge sound and light and shadow.

Especially when I saw that the flames were overwhelming, turning all the animal skin tents into torches, turning the heroic orc warriors into mature people, and the wolf warriors into charred wolf meat steaks, many orcs collapsed.

They shouted in terror, gave up their weapons and glory, and scurried about like blind flies.

At the same time, a small number of orcs were extremely unpleasant to these cowards because of the demonic blood, and they actually took their axes and slashed these cowardly orcs from other clans.

Great chaos swept through the five or six surrounding camps.

According to military parlance, this is Yingxiao!

The chaos began to grow as the second and third bombs were dropped!

Even in winter, the fire and smoke are still clearly visible dozens of kilometers away.

"It can't go on like this!" Orgrim roared, snatching a common iron hammer from the guards beside him and throwing it at a large turquoise bomb that continued to fall.

I have to say that anyone who plays [Hammer of Destruction] has no bad attainment in throwing hammers.

The one-meter-long war hammer, whirling at a speed of three revolutions per second, spanned a hundred meters of airspace and accurately hit the rapidly falling bomb.

"Bang!" A loud explosion was heard, and as soon as Ogrim's fluorescent green face smiled a little, his expression immediately froze.

The [Time and Space Ranger] flying in the sky laughed evilly: "Dear, have you heard of cluster bombs?" ”

This batch of bombs is different from the first batch.

The other camps were pure bombs, killing people by explosions and flames.

Since this is the camp of the Blackstone clan, the bombs sent here are naturally fed.

The shell of the bomb itself is a mixture of Thorsilver and Mithril.

This is not even an alloy without a good blend of the two metals, and as a result, the shell is unusually brittle. When the flying hammer hits the bomb, it also triggers the fuse above.

It's just that what exploded was a large number of submunitions.

The explosives burst into the iron lumps, which were about the size of thumbs, like pear blossoms in a rainstorm.

The worst thing is that Orgrim inadvertently helped this huge copycat cluster bomb complete a real [air explosion], greatly increasing its killing range.

The blackstone orcs within a radius of two hundred meters were easily shot by the splinters that flew out like a scoop, and these heroic orc warriors did not die under the swords of humans, but fell in large swaths like cut wheat, and Orgrim's eyes were completely red.

"Mixed ......"

Before the Great Chief could finish cursing, a griffon swooped down through the turbulence of the flames, grabbing one of Orgrim's guards into the air with one claw.

"No—"

In Orgrim's presence, another griffon swooped down, its sharp claws ignoring the orc's resistance, tearing it in half, its stinking entrails and flesh falling from the sky as if mocking his incompetence.

Orgrim finally couldn't help it anymore and grabbed one of his guards: "Tell Zuluhid that I want all his dragoons to come here immediately!" Immediately! Right away! Got it? ”

"Understood!"

At eleven o'clock in the morning, more than 1,000 dragonthroat orcs, led by Zulushid, who rode an adult fire dragon, led more than 5,000 young dragons to fly to the Hillsbrad Hills region.

A shocking battle in which both sides poured all their air forces into it began.

Dazzling fireballs, cold bolts, and flickering storm hammers crisscrossed the void.

At every moment and every second, a rider, griffon, or wyvern screams and falls, breaking into large patties.

Perhaps, it is lucky to fall to death!

Killing the red-eyed sides, griffons or wyverns can often be seen, descending at breakneck speed to chase down those who have fallen but have not yet lost their breath, and tear them apart in mid-air before they can hit the ground.

In Eagle's Nest Mountain, McDonaln, who received the latest information, shook off the cloak behind him, pressed out the cigar he was holding between his index and middle fingers, but had never smoked a mouthful, pulled out the short musket on his waist with one hand, the muzzle was facing the sky, and then his head was pointed at the four heroes who were already ready to attack behind him, smiled, and said the code to start the action:

"It's noon!"