…… Chapter Ninety-Five: Aftermath and Funeral

The last shelter on the Arathi Heights has been reduced to rubble. The sturdy cage, a symbol of shame, was finally shattered by the enraged orcs

Collapsed walls, scorching scorched earth; The land was soaked with stench of blood, and hideous and terrifying severed limbs and severed arms spread all over the place. The ruins and corpses strewn across the field make this place look like a scene of the end of the world. After being teleported back to this ruin by Second Master Nuo from the Cave of Time, the old Tang who rode the barbarian horn rushed straight to the hillside where the orcs gathered outside the shelter.

Old Tang was a little stunned in his heart, and he felt annoyed that he couldn't change the ending of the hammer that destroyed miè. Although it was only a short time together, the words and deeds full of personality charm of the hammer of destruction have made Old Tang remember it vividly; The firm belief that he was willing to pay for his people and struggle for his whole life made Lao Tang feel admired and recognized. Such a shameful ending should not appear in the body of a generation of legends, a hero-level powerhouse, a powerful hero should not have a tragic end......

Looking back at this piece of scorched earth that will be remembered forever by future generations, Old Tang knew that from now on, there would never be any trace of this shelter in this world. This is the place where the legend of the Great Chief of the Tribe ends, and if nothing else, when the new tribe resets foot here in a few years, a town of the tribe's stronghold will rise here - the town of Hammer, the fall of Orgrim*'s hammer

Old Tang has long been accustomed to life and death, and several years of cold-blooded fighting have made him look at the passing of life more and more lightly. In his opinion, if a life dies for his own ideals and beliefs, then his sacrifice is worthy of respect, and his sacrifice has meaning In this turbulent era, in this world like an epic picture scroll, a legend like the hammer of Orgrim is not the first and will not be the last, and there will be one epic character after another with their unfulfilled dreams and long-cherished wishes, sacrificed on the way to charge, sacrificed on the expedition to pursue ideals, Leave Azeroth forever, the land they have fought for all their lives, and they will fight all their lives.

Whether they fell in front of the battle formation of the Burning Legion, fell under the sea of bones of the undead Scourge, or fell under the blades of different factions on the battlefield, they all gave everything they had to protect the world, protect their people and glory, including their lives, regardless of the faction, whether they were alliances or tribes, they would all have a common title: "hero". They all deserve the respect they deserve, and their legends should not be forgotten

Adjusting the good feelings, Lao Tang's legs clamped the waist and abdomen of the horns, and he suddenly increased his speed and disappeared.

The battle is over, and the orcs are busy cleaning up the battlefield and searching for their compatriots.

No matter how much sacrifice they made, the orcs' wish and belief to save their fellow citizens was finally fulfilled. The hundreds of thousands of orc captives and slaves held in this shelter are finally free and reborn. Along the way of Old Tang's run, a long dragon composed of countless rescued orcs could not be seen. At this moment, the faces of the orcs were full of hope and longing for life, and there was no longer that kind of walking corpse-like numbness, and the orc warriors regained their infinite fighting spirit. From time to time, orc warriors who had fought bloody battles with Old Tang stopped and saluted Old Tang's chest. After a bloody battle, Lao Tang, who did his best to liberate the shelter and rescue the imprisoned orcs, not only gained the friendship of these orcs, but also won the respect of the orc warriors because of his bravery and toughness on the battlefield.

Traveling all the way, Old Tang and Manjiao finally ran to their destination. From a distance, Thrall, who had already put on the armor of the Hammer of Destruction and picked up the hammer of Destruction, was conveying orders to several orc generals.

"We're not here to slaughter humans," Thrall yelled at the orc generals in front of him, "We are fighting for the freedom of our imprisoned brothers, and our opponents are heavily armed warriors, not cows-milking women and children."

Thrall eased his emotions and continued to several orc generals gathered around him; "Shameless slaughter, that is what the old tribes, ruled by evil warlocks, without compassion or love for their own people, are the bloodthirsty acts that lead us to concentration camps, and we become so tired when we lose the demonic powers that make us so greedy and brutal"

"I don't want us to be controlled by our own desires, and what we have done has almost ruined us, and there is no doubt that we will be free. But we must be our true selves, not as a race that survived only to slaughter humanity, and the ones of the past who should have ended our present fighting as glorious warriors, not bloodthirsty killers. And there is no honor in murdering the old and weak, women and children," said Sal, who had expressed his will clearly and clearly, and was silent for a while, and said word by word in an undeniable tone:

"I don't want to hear about any scandal of slaughtering unarmed innocents, I don't want any more shameful slaughter because of us, restrain all our brothers and sisters, '> always remember that we are noble orcs, we are not cruel demons, we are not bloodthirsty butchers"

"Obey your will, Grand Chief," the orc generals looked at each other for a few seconds, nodded firmly at their new leader, and said yes.

After several orc generals left quickly to direct the aftermath, Old Tang jumped off the back of the brute horn and slowly walked to Thrall's side. Patting Sal's shoulder, whose brows were furrowed, he spoke in a low but praising tone: "You did the right thing, Sal's senseless hatred is already too much, and killing without reason is never the best choice"

"I don't know, Goode, my friend I don't know. I've been wondering what kind of choices he would make if the hammer of ruin was here, I might not be as perfect as he is," Sal's tone was a little low, looking at the busy compatriots in the distance, the new Grand Chief felt a heavy burden on his shoulders.

"Maybe I'm not ready to lead my people on a new life, maybe I'm not strong enough... I don't know what I can do and where I will take the tribe ......" said Sal's eyes darkened, and the loss of an idol like a father and brother made the young shaman feel at a loss for the future.

"No one is born outstanding, my friend Grand Chief Shuharu, my mentor Kane Bloodhoof once taught me such a sentence - only after the baptism of wind and rain and the gift of sunshine, can the fragile young seedlings grow into towering trees, sheltering their compatriots from the wind and rain" Old Don stepped forward and looked at the ruins of the shelter in the distance, and opened his mouth to Saar on the side and said in a deep voice, "The Great Chief of the Hammer of Destruction is a legend, but you are not bad, no one will be a substitute for others, you are not the Hammer of Destruction II, you are you, Sal is not a substitute for anyone and will not be replaced by anyone"

"Believe me, friend, you will be an outstanding leader, you will be the pride of your father Durotan, you will be the pride of the hammer that destroys miè, you... It will be the pride of the tribe," Old Don said in a firm tone, lowering his head and staring into Sal's eyes. "You will be the new legend cheer up, your people are still waiting for their leader"

"Thank you, Goode, my friend, for your encouragement and comfort, I feel better, no one is born with an outstanding Great Chieftain who taught me this way on his deathbed" Sal turned and looked up at the mighty and strong old Don, his tone gradually firmed, his gaze no longer confused after a moment.

"I, son of Saldurontan, Grand Chief of the tribe, I will lead my people to regain their honor and renew me, and I will do it...... Dividing line for funerals...... The aftermath of the war was carried out in an orderly manner under the arrangements and orders of the confident and calm Thrall, and a series of matters including rescuing the imprisoned orcs, cleaning the battlefield, collecting food and weapons and equipment were carried out in an orderly manner.

But before the orc army can be drawn up, there is one more important thing to deal with. A funeral, the funeral of hundreds of sacrificial orc warriors, the funeral of the wisest Grand Chief of a generation of legendary tribes, Orgrim Destroyer Miè's Hammer.

Searching for and moving the bodies took all the rest of the day. In the evening, thick black smoke rolled up into the sky. Thrall and Drektar pleaded with the Flame Spirit to make the flames burn brighter, more quickly and faster, and the bodies of fallen warriors were carried by their comrades' robes into the flames of the Flame Spirits, and then turned to dust in the Flame Spirit's arms. In the blessings and war songs of their comrades-in-arms, the ashes will be blown away by the Spirit of the Wind, and their souls will be blessed by their ancestors.

And the largest in the middle, the richly decorated cremation pile, was reserved for the most honorable of all the fallen soldiers, and it belonged to the hammer of Orgrim's destruction

Thrall, Hellroar, and the Sarufar brothers, who had hurried to the herald's report, lifted the burly body of Orgrim's hammer into the air towards the cremation pile. Drektar reverently anointed the almost naked corpse of the Hammer of Destruction as he muttered a whisper that no one else could hear.

The body of the hammer of destruction emanated a faint fragrance, exuding a faint aura in the night. The blind old shaman Drektar motioned for Thrall to help, and then the two shamans assumed the corpse of the Hammer of Destruction in an unyielding pose. The fingers of the deceased were brought together and carefully tied together with a sharp sword. At the feet of the hammer of destruction lay several other "brave warriors" who had died in battle—frostwolves who were fierce and loyal, but who had not escaped human weapons.

One was close to the feet of the hammer of destruction, and the other two were to his left and right. And on the chest of the hammer of destruction, in this place of glory, lies gray, brave and fearless sharp ears. He was Drektar's frostwolf companion, and in today's battle, he fought valiantly until his death. The blind old shaman, Drektar, patted his old friend one last time, then stood up with Thrall and stepped back.

"I haven't been with my people for long," said Thrall, standing in front of tens of thousands of fellow orcs, armed with a hammer of destruction, to his people:

"I don't know the traditions that should be followed when a warrior dies in our homeland. What I do know is this: the hammer of destruction was stolen from behind by a coward, but until then he fought tirelessly to free our trapped people, and his death was a disgrace to us, but not a disgrace to him, he died on the path of fulfilling his life's long-cherished wish, and he will always guard us, and now we grant him the same noble glory when he died as he did when he was born. ”

Young Thrall looked at the face of the dead leader, "Orgrim ruined the miè hammer, you were once my father's best friend. Thou art the noblest man I have ever known, my father and brother, my guide, and now thou shalt go to the bosom of your ancestors, and thy noblest desires will await thee there. ”

"The tribe will always forge ahead, and the orcs will be reborn, this is my promise, Great Chief"

With that, Thrall closed his eyes and begged the Flame Soul to take the hero, the legend. In an instant, the flames burned more fiercely than Sal had expected. The corpse was soon consumed by the flames, and the Flame Soul summoned by Thrall would soon cremate the body of Orgrim*'s Hammer of Destruction.

But what he fought for, and what he died for, will be remembered forever by all his people

Thrall threw his head back and let out a deep, long, roar. One by one, others joined him, all the orcs, all the tribal warriors who roared out their wounds and passions, and if there really were ancestral souls there, they would be haunted by the roars of grief that surged over the death of Orgrim's hammer and countless warriors. A requiem sounded leisurely from the mouth of the blind old shaman, and with the help of the spirit of the wind, the soothing and melodious song spread throughout the heavens and the earth, and countless orc heroic spirits flew into the sky, with relief and relieved smiles on their faces.

After the funeral, Thrall sat down heavily, next to Draketal and Hellroar. Hellroar was as scarred as Thrall, but at this moment it was simply a choice of patience. In today's battle, despite his superior healing abilities, Drektar was forbidden to approach the front line. In the event of an accident for Thrall, Drektar is their only shaman, a precious resource that cannot be risked losing, but Drektar is not old enough to be troubled by these prohibitions.

"Which concentration camp shall we go to next, my chief?" Hellroar said respectfully, his words causing Thrall to wince. He hadn't fully adapted to the fact that the Hammer of Destruction had gone, and now he had to lead millions of orcs.

"There's no next camp," Sal said decisively after a moment's thought, and he looked around the Sarufar brothers, Don Sr., and the others came into view. "With our current strength, we are enough to give the enemy a generous gift"

Thrall's mentor, the blind old shaman Drektar, frowned. "We still have our compatriots who are suffering, and we must rescue them"

"They do," Sal agreed, "but I have a plan to free all of us at once." To kill a monster, you have to cut off its head, not just its hands or feet. It's time to cut off the evil heads of the camp system. ”

His eyes sparkled in the firelight. "We're going to conquer Dunhold"

Chapter Ninety-Five: Aftermath and Funeral

Chapter 95 Aftermath and Funeral, to URL M