The bloodthirsty battle axe was wielded by his master with a sharp whistling that shone brightly in the sunlight. Its rider laughed maniacally, spreading his jaws with black tattoos to an almost impossible width, the roar of which was where his name came from. As he moved, his long black hair fluttered behind his head, and his red eyes sparkled, slashing at the imaginary enemies in front of him with his battle axe. He uses this method to hone himself, and only then can he slash his enemies like slicing meat on a real battlefield. Even though he was only practicing on a daily basis, his skill and strength were on display. Grom Hell Roar snorted when he heard his name being called, and turned away, forcing himself to stop indulging in the thirst for blood.

"Grom!"

Grom Hellroar let go of the blood roar in his hand, and even though he was still doing a vigorous activity just now, he was only gasping softly. He looked up ahead and saw someone looking towards {}. [He walks.] Although he looks old, he can leave a deep taro on people.

"Kargas," he replied, waiting for the leader of the Broken Hand Clan to walk up to him. They held each other's hands tightly - their right hands, of course. This is because Kargas's left hand had been severed a long time ago and replaced with an evil scythe blade.

"Hello. ”

"If you want me to say, hello everyone, it's really good. The old leader said. More and more orcs were approaching this way, so he nodded and continued. "Straight to the point. As far as I know. Naozu sent a number of envoys to each clan. Grom nodded. With a shallow smile, some of those envoys were sent by him at the invitation of Nao Zu.

"He has a plan. Grom put the roar of blood on his shoulder, and the two leaders turned and walked across the valley, between the warriors of the two clans, and strode towards the ruins of the Dark Gate. It's full of angry orcs glaring or arguing with each other, but luckily at least no one is fighting, at least until now. "But what exactly is the plan?"

Kargas replied, "It doesn't matter. Whatever it is, it will be better than the current situation. He absentmindedly slid his fingertips over his blade. "For the last two years. We didn't do anything. Nothing! Why is that? It's because the Alliance has defeated us? So what? It's because the Dark Gate has been destroyed? They could have built another one! We have to fight somebody else, or we'll just sit here and rot like rotten flesh!"

Grom nodded. Kargas is a pure warplane, he was born to fight and kill. Grom appreciates this about him, and as Kargas says, that's a plus. Orcs are naturally belligerent, and they have been doing their best to hone their insight and increase their combat effectiveness, because if they don't, they will become weak. Grom asks his people and other clans to fight in order to train them. Although there had been no friction between Warsong and Broken Hand, he knew that what Kargas had done was no different from him. Sometimes. Orcs still attack patrol and scout detachments, before they start a war, of course.

Anyway. He had no interest in fighting his own people. Back then, Neozu had founded the tribe and united all the clans into a powerful army, and until now Grom had believed that the orcs were still in alliance. Whether his Warsong warriors were fighting the Orcs of the Thunder King, Blade Wind, or the Red Wanderer Clan, they were actually slaughtering their own kind. When he wielded the blood roar in battle, attacking the enemy with its scream, he could still feel the rushing bloodthirsty ** in his blood, the savage pleasure. However, after that, he felt a sense of emptiness and a little uncleanness in his heart. ...

As they walked towards the ruins in front of them, Grom thought to himself: What had happened? What had gone wrong with the tribes? Their numbers were incomparable, even in the weeds of the plains, and the number of droplets in the ocean! When they marched, even the mountain peaks trembled at the sound of their deafening footsteps! Why could such a mighty army be defeated in the face of the Alliance?

Grom was convinced that this qiē was Guldan's fault. On the road of Draenor, the plains that had been covered with crops and vegetation were lifeless, the trees that had been alive had all withered, and the blue sky was now as red as blood; This qiē is all because of the warlocks, and it is their insatiable thirst for power that causes this qiē. Not only that, they ruined Draenor, but Gul'dan was behind this qiē. It was because of his fault that the Horde was not able to defeat the Alliance and conquer the world called Azeroth. It's all because the cunning warlock persuaded Grom to stay in Draeno during the first war instead of rushing to the front lines.

Gul'dan once told him, "We need you to stay in Draenor." You and your Warsong warriors are the elite of our tribe, and if something happens, the tribe needs you as a reserve. And the Horde needs someone to stay in Draenor to protect our interests. We need a strong person, someone who can be trusted by the tribe, like you. ”

So, Grom was blown into the sky by several of Gul'dan's high hats, and he was fooled stupidly. He watched as Blackhan and Orgrim's Hammer led the Horde through the Dark Gate against Azeroth; He watched as the sentinels brought back all sorts of news, including initial successes and subsequent failures.

Grom took a deep breath and grumbled under his breath. He was sure that if he had been there, he would have been able to turn things around, and with his help, the High Chieftain would have been able to conquer the human city on the shores of the lake, and slay the betrayal of the Horde Gul'dan and his fellow warlocks. Once they have taken possession of Lordaeron, they can start from there, gradually conquering the continent until there is no human left to fight them.

Grom shook his head. Let it pass if it's gone. Blackhan is dead, his old friend Durotan is dead, the Hammer of Destruction has been captured, the Dark Gate has been destroyed, and Gul'dan is no longer alive. The current tribe is nothing more than a phantom of its former glory.

However, maybe something is going to change (to be continued......

Chapter 220: The People Left Behind.

Chapter 220 The People Left Behind: