My name is Butcher of New Avalon, and my real name is William Langston. Pen "Fun" Pavilion www.biquge.info

I was born in a small mountain village north of Lordaeron, and spent my childhood in ignorance and joy. However, the fallen prince Arthas led the Scourge to sweep through the kingdom, the king lost his people, and I lost my mother. My father fled to Stormwind with my brother and me, and after years of hard work, we finally opened our own tavern in the Old Town, Beer & Whistle.

My father and brother kept the tavern very well and were enthusiastic about the hectic life. They wanted me to join the family business, which was booming, but I had my own plans.

After a big fight with my father, I left the safety and warmth of my home and went to Northshire Abbey to join the Stormwind militia guard. The monks of the Northern County discovered the potential of the Light in me, and I became one of the few paladins in the Guard.

We follow the Duke's orders to clear the Gnoll threat in the Elwyn Forest and hunt down the thieves of Defia in the Wild West. Defend yourself against the Blackstone Orcs in Lakeside and slay the terrifying brainless zombies in Nighttown. Engage in encounters with the Horde in the Valley of Thorns, and cleanse the Plaguelands of the damned minions of the Scourge.

Later, my brothers and I joined the Silver Dawn and fought valiantly against the eagle dogs of Kel'thugad. In order to fight against the Undead Legion, my comrades-in-arms and I were not afraid of life and death, and used our flesh and blood to resist this evil force that originated from the Burning Legion again and again. The Light should be with me, but there is only darkness before my eyes.

Rancid blood took over my heart, plague-like evil filled my soul, and bone-piercing frost froze the last trace of mercy in my mind. I, William Langston, became a Death Knight under the Lich King, a member of the Scourge I hated most.

I shouted the light in my heart, but the sword in my hand was mercilessly killing innocent lives. With tears in my eyes, I stabbed my cursed runic sword into my friend's heart with precision. Despair and pain drove me into madness, and even the brainless zombies didn't want to come near me, because no one knew whose heart I would plunge the ice blade into the next second.

For a near-out-of-control Death Knight like me, getting rid of it as soon as possible is a good decision for everyone. So I was given a suicidal mission again and again, far away from the large army to assassinate the mayor of the Scarlet Crusaders, and raided the Scarlet Barracks alone.

But the countless lonely battles did not bring me down, did not let me die, but made me earn the ominous title of "New Avalonian Butcher". Whenever I was mortally wounded and faced with death, the angelic Vagri would resurrect me in place and make me fight for the Lich King one more time. is really bent on death, but he can't help himself.

It wasn't until I followed the leader of the Knights of the Black Blade, Grand Lord Mograine, to attack the Chapel of Light's Wishes, the Holy Land of Light, that I was truly redeemed. The old hero, Tirio Fordin, freed us from the Lich King's grasp, and I rejoined the Alliance with the Death Knight Thassarian.

After returning to Stormwind, the father and son meeting gave me the courage to live again. The strong family affection made the anger in my heart slowly calm down, but I still have my mission. With the blessing of my father and brother, I traveled to Northrend once again, to participate in jousting with my former allies, and to storm the Icecrown Fortress with my former enemies, and witness the slaughter of the unbeatable fallen king by Old Fordin.

The advent of the Cataclysm shattered the brief cooperation between the Alliance and the Horde, and the drums of war rang out once again. Rather than join this ridiculous strife, I honed my skills in the arena with my comrades, earning cheap honors with my blood in several hot battlegrounds.

We were ecstatic to see the appearance of Pandaria, and the continent where the legendary panda people lived really existed! Everyone came to the mist-shrouded continent as adventurers. However, the discovery of the New World did not ease the relationship between the alliance and the tribes, but only intensified the dispute. The high-achieving tribal chieftain Garrosh Hellroar abandoned his allies and challenged all of Azeroth. Eventually, we fought our way into his palace and joined the horde rebels in defeating the former hero wrapped in evil energy.

But I still don't understand why our kings and princes would intercede for the orcs who destroyed the coastal city of Theramore! Wouldn't it be a hundred to directly let the original tribal chieftain Sal kill him! There must be a huge conspiracy hidden here, as if there is an invisible giant playing a big game of chess. Sure enough, Garrosh fled. He borrowed the power of the bronze dragon to travel to the outer realms of the parallel world, the Draenor that had not yet been destroyed by the orc shaman Naozu.

Belch...... I have also heard the story of a certain Li "shuttling" in different parallel worlds and gaining power by killing himself in the parallel world, but he killed himself in the same time period, after all, this is a parallel world. But Garrosh "shuttled" to our parallel world, and then "crossed" a little, and came to the parallel world 15 years ago! Could it be that this is the legendary jet lag! I really admire the roaring young man from the bottom of my heart, your brain hole is so big, you shouldn't call it a brain roar, you should call it a brain hole roar......

But now we can't do so much, after receiving the king's order, we resolutely step into the portal and go to the parallel world 15 years ago. After all, as long as there is the king's order, even if it is a mountain of swords and a sea of fire, the warriors of the alliance will still move forward. The moment I stepped through the portal, I heard the shouts of the Horde Legion. Hehe, where there is an alliance, there will always be a tribe, after all, if there is no tribe, what is the meaning of our alliance's existence.

Sometimes I wonder if I was given another chance to choose, would I join the horde as an undead while standing in front of the portal of the Blackebon Fortress of Acherus? Hehe, who knows. I looked in the direction where the voice came from, looking at the opponent who had fought against us for more than ten years, and at the friend who had defended Azeroth with us for more than ten years, and I felt warm in my heart, I think this is probably the so-called feelings.

An orc shaman in the front row of the tribe was covered in scars, each of which was supposed to represent a fierce battle, and his armor was covered with scar marks, and only the true brave deserved to wear this bloody armor. What a warrior of the tribe, what a ...... Hey, no! "Your uncle! You wounded my sister in Warsong Canyon! I can't spare you~~~~~" Before I could finish my words, I fell into the portal with a trembling sound.

After a shuddering dizziness, I felt an ominous force approaching me. The force began to tear at my body, as if it wanted to tear me in half. The scabbed wounds on his body were gradually torn open, and the fibers in his body were torn apart piece by piece. The pain made my every nerve twitch, and every drop of my blood seemed to be frozen by a pointed ice ballast.

I've passed through the portal countless times, but not once has I felt such pain, and I can even see my soul stripped of my body. In this double torment of mind and body, I almost collapsed. Eventually, my brain couldn't stand the stimulation anymore and it came to a standstill, and I slowly fell into a coma.

I don't know how long it took for me to wake up. The cold air soaked in ice chips into my nose and swirled like a knife into my lungs. The cold, bloody breath made me dizzy, and with each breath it felt like a bloody blade flying out of my mouth. His uncle, what the hell is this place?

I found my comrades and my team lying on all sides on the snow around me, and I wanted to check on them, but now my body was so weak that I could not even sit up, so I had to lie on the ground and wait for my strength to recover. I grabbed a handful of snow and my mind was full of questions. Could this be the legendary Frost Fire Ridge? No, we should go to the Tanaan jungle to fend off the attack of the Iron Tribe, how can it be......

Suddenly, I felt a trace of eerie power from the snow in my hands, and smelled a hint of rancid blood, which I felt all the more familiar. This is the snow of the Arctic, this is the snow of Northrend.