Whining......

The cold wind whipped up snowflakes and whistled in the air.

A group of green-skinned, burly, skin-clad humanoids are migrating through the whimpering snowstorm. It's a group of orcs.

The sky was swept by wind and snow, and a white snowflake was visible as far as the eye could see. Even the sky gradually darkened.

Woo~!

The long and desolate sound of the horn sounded for a long time, and the orcs who were hurrying stopped when they heard the sound of the horn, and whistled, pulling the huge beasts one by one and blocking them from the wind and snow in a ring.

The orcs began to set up a resting camp in the wind and snow in a dense and orderly manner. Wooden frames, piles of debris, are built at the nodes of the transported behemoths. Some female orcs inside also busily began to set up thick tents and cook with fires.

There were also some orcs with weapons, with white frostwolves, returning from the wind and snow, and they had just checked the surrounding risks.

In the empty and lonely world, there were suddenly more fireworks.

But the faces of the orcs were full of worry and gloom, like a group of refugees who had left their homes and had nowhere to go.

"Father, why are we leaving home?" Inside a tent that had been set up, a young orc looked at his father and asked.

"Because we have to leave, Durontan." Galada, the chief of the Frostwolf Clan, touched his son's little head and said in a low voice.

"Is it because of the Skyfall Dragon?" The little orc named Durotan looked at his father and asked.

"Yes, Skyfall Dragon. An evil dragon descended from the sky and came to Draenor, cruel, tyrannical, and polluted everywhere it went.

Beasts will die, vegetation will wither. The area in which it is located has no life alive except for the undead and their families.

The most terrifying thing is that every once in a while, it will find a place full of life to settle in, not a trapped place. Even if it is just passing by, the pollution that overflows from its body can turn a piece of land into barren land.

It is a natural disaster that all orcs have to face. Galada's face was heavy, and he spoke for his child.

"Can't you kill it?" Little Durontan said a little fiercely. The way of the orcs is like this, their living environment is not good, but it is not bad, most orcs always have a violent fighting heart, and cruelty to enemies and prey.

"Kill it?" Galada smiled bitterly, rubbed his child's head, and said, "How do you think the Dragon Hunting Festival came about?"

For thousands of years, any orc clan wanted to kill that evil dragon, and there were even several powerful clans in history that selected the most elite and powerful warriors to go on the expedition.

They failed again and again, and regrouped again and again. Finally, one time, several clans joined forces to slay the evil dragon.

Those orc warriors who returned from slaying dragons won great respect and worship from the major clans. But it was only a while before the slain dragon came alive again.

The chiefs of the major clans were furious, believing that the warriors had deceived them with vile lies, and that they had insulted the honor of the orcs.

The warriors were speechless in the face of the resurgence of the evil dragon, and they were banished for their sins, and they were not even allowed to become slaves.

After being banished, the warriors rediscovered the dragon, but this time they failed to slay the dragon, but instead became the ghost of the dragon, the spirit of its lair that roamed and could not leave. ”

"Didn't those warriors kill the dragon?" Durotan looked up at his father.

"Of course they killed the evil dragon, but the evil dragon can't kill it." Galada said slowly: "In the follow-up, many clans once again carried out a crusade, gathered the powerful power of multiple clans, and finally succeeded in killing the evil dragon again, but the evil dragon cannot be killed, it will come back from the dead."

The orc clan has hundreds of warriors who have died at the hands of the evil dragon for thousands of years, and countless clans have been destroyed. It is because there is no way to take it, you can't kill it once and for all, so it is called a natural disaster. ”

Little Durotan understood his father's words, and as he looked at the people who had been forced to migrate in the snowstorm, he felt angry with the evil dragon.

Even though he is still young, he is naturally more rational and intelligent than other orcs, and he is not a child who does not understand anything. He knew how much risk and price it would take to carry out a clan migration of this specification on a snowy day.

The relocation of a clan is never a simple decision that can be made with a tap of the brain. They usually need to find their next gathering place before they can migrate.

And the chosen gathering place cannot be chosen at random, at least there must be enough prey or food around it. Otherwise, the mere shortage of food would be enough to weaken and sink a powerful clan.

The Frostwolf Clan has its own set of survival rules, as well as a few alternate new colonies. Most of them move back and forth in a large area on a regular basis to ensure the ecological cycle of the area.

However, the arrival of the evil dragon has disrupted this near-stable cycle. Soon, they will have to face the last thing they want to face.

When the time comes, it will be difficult to find another way except to start a war with the orcs of other clans in the surrounding area. And in this process, sacrifice and bloodshed are bound to accompany.

Victory, they will gain a new place to live, re-establish a cycle and survive.

Failure, they will be reduced to slaves, even cannon fodder. If the warring clans don't have enough food, then their clansmen will survive even less.

If it weren't for the desperation, Durotan believed his father would not have chosen this path.

"Father!" A stout young orc opened the tent and walked in, holding a piece of vellum paper, and said to his father, "The chief of the Warsong Clan wants to invite us to restart the dragon hunting festival!" He says that this time he has found a way to eradicate the dragon threat once and for all! ”

"What?" Galada jerked to his feet from the ground and looked at his eldest son, Fenris, in shock. The evil dragon cannot be killed, this is a fact that many orcs have verified with blood and tears for thousands of years, but right now, there is a clan that has really found a way to kill the evil dragon?

"Really. They are coming to the Frozen Wasteland with men, and may soon be able to join us. Fenris waved the vellum paper in his hand and affirmed it in a cohesive voice.

"Any more information?" Still in disbelief, Galada reached for the vellum paper in Fenris's hand and flipped through it in front of his eyes.

"It is said that this method was taken up by a man named Herder." Fenris said.

PS: Thank you for your tip.

PS: I woke up in the middle of the night and found that there was a mistake with the timing, boom!

(End of chapter)