The long, low sound of the horn spread far through the forest, startling countless birds, and as Termo rang out countless screams and cries, a wave of orcs swooped down on it.

Although the major Delaney settlements, including Termo, were prepared for war due to the intervention of Lanlos, it took less than ten minutes for the Delaney's defense to be crushed.

This orc force was not very numerous, but it had gathered almost all of the high-end forces of the tribe, and just like Neozu had thought at the beginning, victory was within reach.

The atmosphere of peace and tranquility was torn apart by the howls of war and howls, and the wolf cavalry rushed through the streets of the city, whipping up a cloud of blood among the fleeing Draenei civilians. This was followed by a large brown wave.

The blackstone orcs are steady, like a meat grinder made of steel, leaving no room for life wherever they go. The entire battlefield was filled with the terrifying roar of the Warsong Orcs, and everyone in the Shattered Hand Clan disdained to be in the company of others, and everyone was a sharp knife, bathing in blood as deep as they plunged into the enemy ranks. The battle of the Bloodring Orcs is even more adrenaline-pumping, and they do not hesitate to exchange injuries for injuries, even if they break their hands and feet, they can use their fangs to bite off large pieces of flesh on the enemy's body.

Instead of rushing into the middle of the town to kill like Grom and Kargas, Durotan rode night after night, looking at the beautiful town engulfed in fire on the edge of the battlefield, and his heart was cold under the strong breath of blood and fire.

The horde's army was not only warriors and shamans, but in his sight, he also saw strange otherworldly creatures. Summons of orc spellcasters who have become warlocks because of the loss of the elements, bouncing imps, ugly and fierce hounds, dark and dark voidwalkers, and eyedemons that float in the air with a wicked grin.

Not only do these creatures wreak havoc on their enemies, but they also have an aura of terror that makes Durotan feel sick from within. However, during this time when the shaman was gradually losing power, the orc warlocks proved their abilities and loyalty to the tribe with their actions and devastating powers.

He didn't have any reason to exclude those who had helped the orcs achieve victory, companions?

It's just that he was confused.

The draenei warriors, who were calm even in the face of death, all showed anger and disgust when they saw these creatures.

With two encounters with the Draenei, Durotan vaguely recognized the words they roared out, the Demon.

A creepy title.

The sound of howling wind suddenly appeared from behind, and years of fighting skills made Durotan swing the axe in the first place.

While!

The blue glow of the sword and the double-edged axe collided violently, sparks flew in all directions, shining in Durontan's sight, illuminating the faces of the attacking enemy, and a pair of blue glowing eyes narrowed, exuding a familiar feeling that made his heart tug.

Ristalan let out a low roar, and as the dazzling golden light bloomed on the blade, a huge impact slammed into Durontan's body, and with a muffled snort, he was actually shot straight from Nightfly's back.

The moment he landed, he rolled with force, and the son of the frost wolf squatted steadily on the ground, and after quickly adjusting his breathing, he put aside all distractions and concentrated on the battle in front of him.

Years ago, Restaran saved him and Orgrim's lives, and he also gave Viren a way out under pressure, and they no longer owe each other. None of them will fight, and they don't need to have mercy.

After catching such emotions on the other party's faces, no one said anything, picked up the long sword and battle axe in their hands, and the two equally strong bodies collided again.

——————————————

Durotan's appearance looks a little miserable, although his axe is forged sharp and hard, but because his traditional hunting skills are mainly sensitive, he is still wearing a leather armor, and the upper body is a large area of ****, the opponent's sword blade has left one scarlet scar after another on his body.

As for Restaran, he was biting his shoulder and tugging fiercely every night, the steel shoulder guards were completely deformed, and the dark blue blood stained his entire arm, and it didn't take long for this strong frost wolf to tear off his entire arm.

It wasn't really a fatal wound, though, as a massive crack in his chest cut through his entire breastplate, revealing a skeletal wound flowing with a cooling fluid.

Restaran died at Durontan's hands, and the eyes that stared at him with unyielding and angry eyes completely lost their brilliance.

Durotan did not allow himself to grieve, and in front of his own people, he held aloft an axe soaked in the blood of the enemy garrison captain, and burst out with a battle cry that soared into the sky. Under the frightened looks of the Draenei guards, with victory and honor, they moved forward.

The boiling anger in his body made his blood rush out, his senses had never been sharper, his every movement seemed to require no thought, and everywhere he went, no one could stop the battle axe in his hand.

Blood makes him feverish, and it calms him. Seeing Orgrim fighting a guard not far away, Durontan immediately tensed his nerves and tried to rush to help his old friend. But the Hammer of Doom swung in the air, smashing the opponent's head through the helmet. Durontan laughed heartily, the friend who had never conceded defeat in all kinds of games with him, did not need to worry about himself at all.

Before he could smell or hear a sound, he sensed someone approaching him, and he quickly turned, let out a deafening war roar, and raised his blue blood-stained axe ready to swing at him. But the next moment, he was stunned.

It was a little girl who was no more than her waist, and she didn't have the slightest idea of defending herself against his attack, but just tore at his armored leg like crazy, tears running down her pale blue face.

The blue blood, not like her own blood soaked through her clothes, clinging to her body, making her look petite and vulnerable, as if she could hold her in her hands with just one palm of her own.

She slapped him feebly, tears burning with pain and heart-pounding anger in her tear-filled eyes.

The axe in his hand did not fall, and Durontan swore that he would not harm the child, which was not in line with tradition, and it was not the honor of the orcs. For a moment, a thought passed through Durontan's mind. How beautiful would this face be if it showed the child's trademark innocent smile......

Poof!

Burning blood splattered Durontan, and the grief-stricken face widened rapidly in his eyes before disappearing from sight. The delicate body that made people feel infinitely pitiful fell weakly in a pool of blood, motionless.

"You owe me, Durotan. Kargas licked the sweet blood from the blade, laughed and rushed into battle again.

Durotan shook his head, his mouth wide open, and cried out to the ancestors for the pain that had penetrated deep into the bone marrow.