Light's Dawn of Azeroth

Chapter 121 20. Draka's Diplomatic Style This incident is also recorded in the story of the heroes of the Western Regions.
"Cough cough."

A suppressed cough sounded in the evening night, causing the orc heroine Draka, who had just lain down, to turn over and sit up again. She rubbed her slightly bulging belly and listened attentively.

The legendary warrior's super-strong perception allowed her to quickly catch the faint cry of pain coming from the tent next to her. It seemed that her companion was suppressing the pain in his body, not wanting his cowardice to be discovered by others.

This made Draka sigh. She rummaged through her wolfskin bag and found a potion preserved in a crystal bottle. This was a self-defense item given to her by her good friend "Traveler" Lelan when she left Nagrand Grassland.

The heroine walked out of the tent and called softly from outside the nearby tent:

"Chief Zagrel, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Draka."

The old chief of the White Claw clan immediately responded.

But after a few seconds, he sighed, opened the tent and walked out, holding a blood-stained handkerchief in his hand.

The old chief was just old, but he was not stupid. He knew that the noise he had just made could not be hidden from the perceptive heroine.

"I'm telling you a joke."

Old White Claw sighed and said:

"Although the Holy Light of the Sentinel brought me back from the realm of death, the wound left by that orc cub is not so easy to heal. After all, that was a vicious weapon forged by Gul'dan with the help of Blackhand."

"Drink this potion. My Draenei friend said it contains some holy water blessed by the Sentinel himself. It has a strong healing effect."

Draka handed the bottle of medicine in his hand to Old White Claw, who did not refuse.

He knew that now was not the time to save face, so he pulled out the cork and took a big sip. The potion made his body warm, and also made Old White Claw, who was tortured by the pain, breathe a sigh of relief, and his spirits improved a little.

He returned the remaining precious potion to Draka, then looked around and got down to business.

"Hasn't that old Leolox sent anyone over yet?"

"No, it's been three days."

Draka narrowed her eyes. She sat on the stone beside her, stroking the cold steel wolf claw battle axe at her waist with some irritation, and whispered:
“This is not right!
Even though the Mok'Nathal clan has always been aloof, they value promises very much. After the Battle of Blood River, Leolox personally promised that the White Claw and Frostwolf clans would be their guests of honor. However, we have been in this hunting ground of Gorgrond for so long, but we have only seen some Mok'Nathal hunters patrolling nearby.

Did you find it?
They seemed a little nervous when they approached us.

Especially when we met yesterday and today, they kept using the excuse of camp relocation to stall us.”

"Something must have happened."

Old White Claw stroked his beard and said:
"I believe in Leorox's promise. That orc's credibility is as strong as the Blackrock Mine in Gorgrond. If they don't intend to fulfill their promise, they won't allow us to enter their hunting grounds.

But now they don't want to meet with us. I suspect they are in trouble themselves and don't want to involve us two distinguished guests, so they can only use poor excuses to delay us here. Those guys plan to solve the problem themselves.

However, their brains and straightforward tempers inherited from ogres cannot handle overly delicate matters.

So, Draka, what do you think?"

"We should be proactive, no question about it."

The heroine of the Frostwolf clan was very decisive. Old White Claw's guess coincided with her inner worries. She said:
"The main thing is that we have no time to waste. We just left Frostfire Ridge when the Thunderlord Clan blocked the Thunder Pass. It seems that Warchief Blackhand is no longer going to allow the Frostwolf Clan to rebel against his authority. We must bring reinforcements to Frostfire Ridge. Otherwise, relying solely on the Frostwolf and White Claw clan warriors, we won't be able to stop those orcs who drank demon blood.

Every day we delay means more trouble for our hometown."

"But the Mok'Nathal hunters won't allow us to get close to their camp. No one in this wilderness can hide from their eyes and their war beasts. Infiltrating is impossible."

Old White Claw said helplessly:
"The number of people we brought is small. Although they are elite, they cannot quickly get past the eyes of those hunters."

"I have a plan, but it's risky."

A few seconds later, Draka came up with an idea, which was helplessly described by Old White Claw as a "weird idea". However, in order to find out what the Mok'Natha clan was up to, they quickly decided to take a risky move.

Ten minutes later, a Mok'Nathal hunter, who was patrolling the hunting grounds in the wilderness outside the temporary camp, stretched himself and rode his dire wolf out of the hut when he saw a Frostwolf warrior rushing towards him and shouting anxiously:
"Is there a shaman nearby? A witch doctor would be fine too! Find one and bring it over!"

"Ok?"

The taciturn Mok'Nathal orc looked at the anxious warrior in confusion, and the latter shouted:

"Hurry! Our Frostwolf Matriarch was gored by a mad boar in your territory. Damn it! She's pregnant with the chief's child. Didn't you say the Mok'Nathal hunting grounds were safe?
I really believed your lies!
If anything happens to the mistress and the chief's child, you will be held fully responsible! That's the future chieftain of our Frostwolf clan! This is simply murder! No, this is a botched assassination!"

"!!!"

The Mok'Nathal hunter, who was two times bigger than the average orc and had an extremely burly body due to his ogre bloodline, was stunned when he heard this.

No, brother! Do you know what a "hunting ground" is?

Isn't it normal for one or two wild beasts to appear in this place?
And it was you who didn't want to leave and insisted on staying here to meet our chief. Now that something has happened, you blame us?

The most important thing is, you are burning newspapers at the grave to fool the ghosts!
Your Frostwolf Matron is a famous orc heroine. If Lady Draka could be hit by a wild boar, the other orcs would have to commit suicide out of shame. Could it be that she accidentally met Agamaggan while she was out for a walk?

However, it is true that the Frostwolf mistress was pregnant. If this really led to a feud between the two tribes, it would be a serious problem.

Thinking of this, the brave hunter did not dare to delay and urged the dire wolf under his crotch to carry him over.

When they arrived at the place, they saw a huge Gorgrond boar lying dead outside the camp, with a gleaming battle axe stuck in its head. Lady Draka, with a pale face, was leaning aside, surrounded by a circle of warriors nervously.

Old White Claw was half-kneeling beside her, checking on her condition. Seeing the Mok'Nathal Hunter approaching, Old White Claw raised his head and roared:

"Are you a shaman? Or a witch doctor? Neither? Then what are you doing here? Didn't you see that Draka had a miscarriage after she chopped up that wild boar? Send someone here quickly! Is this how you treat guests?"

"No! Chief Zagrel, this is my fault. It has nothing to do with them. It's not their fault."

Draka said with a trembling voice:

"I was too careless. It's okay. Let me rest for a while. I believe the child of the Frostwolf clan is strong enough. Durotan and I both think he will be the future chief. It's okay. This is just a small problem.
what! ”

As she spoke, the heroine screamed and her body began to twitch.

"Get someone here quickly!"

The Frostwolf warriors guarding the clan mistress drew their battle axes. Seeing that this was indeed not an act, the Mok'Nathal hunter turned around and went to find someone to help.

But Old White Claw called him and said gloomily:
"By the time you return, poor Go'el will be on his way to becoming a spirit of his ancestors. Take the Frostwolf Matron and go directly to your medicine cat! Be sure to protect her.

Don't worry, I don't know what you're up to, but since Leorox doesn't want to receive us, we'll all stay here, and you can just take Lady Draka with you. Helping a pregnant woman won't violate your clan's taboos, right?

"."

Although Hunter Mok'Nassa's brain wasn't very good, he wasn't a fool after all, and he always felt that this scene was a bit strange.

However, this is not the time to discuss the truth. If the future chieftain of the Frostwolf clan really met with an accident in the hunting grounds of the Mok'Nathal clan, the relationship between the two clans would be completely ruined.

What's more, the Frostwolf and White Claw clans have done favors for the Mok'Nathal people. It is already a great disrespect for them to keep their distinguished guests out. If they refuse a pregnant woman from going to the clan camp to see a doctor, that would be a real rebellion against the Tian Gang.

"Only one person!"

The silent hunter gritted his teeth.

Seeing that Draka's face was getting paler and paler, he finally let go.

A moment later, the Frostwolf Mother's frost-colored worg carried her, followed closely by the hunter's huge dire wolf, and disappeared into the hunting grounds. Old White Claw stood at the edge of the camp and watched Draka disappear. He tightened his grip on his sword and turned to whisper to the nervous warriors behind him:
"Everyone, get ready! Once Lady Draka sends out the fireworks signaling danger, we'll charge in at all costs!"

"We are not afraid of death, Chief."

A warrior with a white claw mark on his face said with a bitter face:

"But Mok'Natha's hunting grounds are very dangerous. They've relied on the deadly terrain of this damn place to hide themselves for so many years. We can't get in if we don't know the way."

"Oh, the wargs tamed by the Frostwolf Clan are the most psychic. As long as Draka, the she-wolf who grew up with her, passes by once, that warg, which is smarter than the stupid orcs, will be able to lead us safely through this forest."

Old White Claw took out a whetstone and whispered:

"Now it's up to Lady Draka to figure out what's wrong with the Mok'Nathal. In my opinion, it's probably tied to the War Horde. That damn Blackhand keeps saying he wants to bring glory to all orcs, but look at all the stupid things he's done!
This is clearly pushing us to our death."

------

"Leolox! Three days! I've been waiting for three days, you must give me an answer today!
The Great Chief is recruiting you, the lowly Halfolsen, to participate in the glorious war. This is a great opportunity for you to make a name for yourself. The Great Chief sympathizes with your strength and your hardship, so please do not be ungrateful."

The high-ranking warlord, wearing black stone plate armor, with red eyes and green skin, leaned on his weapon and stood arrogantly in the Mok'Nathal clan's simple camp deep in the wilderness of Gorgrond. He stared at the tall and silent warrior in the largest tent in the hunting ground built on the mountain.

Even though he had gained power by drinking demon blood and had passed the Blade Trial long ago to earn the title of "Sword Saint", Jubei'thos, the legendary warrior of the Blackrock Clan, could still feel a very uncomfortable aura from this silent orc hunter who was as dumb as a mute.

That was his warrior instinct warning him.

This means that the clan chieftain in front of him, who is a half-ogre and half-orc, has the ability to kill him.

To be honest, this made the proud Jubeisos very unhappy.

On the one hand, the strength he had gained through years of hard training was still no match for these lowly "freaks" created by the ogre wizards.

On the other hand, he was the war emissary of Chieftain Blackhand and a high-ranking warlord of noble status, yet he was left alone in the secluded and miserable mountain camp of the Mok'Natha clan for three whole days.

This is simply going against the grain!
Seeing that in the face of his coercion, the dumb chief of the Mok'nasa clan, Leolox, remained silent, still stirring the charcoal fire in the tent with the rough iron stick in his hand, as if he didn't even see him, the high-ranking commander who was in a bad mood because of drinking the devil's blood could not help it.

He stepped forward and overturned the medicinal soup the old chief was brewing, causing the steaming pot of herbs to spill everywhere. Some of it even spilled onto Leolox's hunting leather armor and arms, but the old chief seemed to feel no pain.

He simply glanced at the Blackrock orc with his brown-gray eyes.

Seems to be asking with eyes
It was you, little brat, who poured soup for me, right?
"You need to give me an explanation! Chief Leolox."

Jubeisos shouted:
"Chief Blackhand has ordered the Horde army to march towards the blueskin city of Shattrath!

Your clan is on the only way from Gorgrond to Talador. You are one of the clans closest to Shattrath City. You also participated in the ceremony at the Korshag Festival where Chief Blackhand was elected as the leader of the tribe!

You should obey the orders of the Warchief, and you should bring the most powerful wild hunters of the Mok'Nathal clan to join this glorious battle!
When I came here three days ago, I brought you the gift from the Great Chief, the Blood Rage Potion that would make you more powerful, but I haven't seen even one Mok'Nathal warrior drink that potion today.
So, are you planning to be traitors?"

"war?"

Leolox finally spoke.

The tall orc stood up, casting a shadow on the savage Jubei'sos like a small mountain.

It was not until he stood up that the Blackrock Warlord discovered that the orc had a circle of black, bloodstained shackles wrapped around his waist. They were ogre-style slave shackles, with elemental engravings left by ogre wizards on them.

In the final battle of the Blood River War, this powerful orc had used this slave chain to strangle his ogre "master." "The Mok'Nathal clan will not participate in your war. We will only fight for our people and our homeland!"

Leolox was not an eloquent chief, but every word he said was powerful.

He stared at Zhubei'sos, making the Blackrock Warlord feel like he was being stared at by a hungry beast. The feeling of his hair standing on end made the Blackrock Swordmaster feel a little uncomfortable. He moved his shoulders and was about to speak when he heard Leolox say coldly:
"Since I've left you hanging for three days, you should have given up! If you insist on humiliating yourself and want to hear my answer in person, then take the Black Hand's order and get out! This is my answer."

"Heh, very good."

Anger flashed across the face of the Blackrock Sword Master, bloodshot in his eyes, as he said:
"You dare not obey the master of the tribe? I think you want to..."

"boom"

Before he could finish his words, the Blackrock Swordmaster was grabbed by the neck by Leolox's big hand and lifted into the air.

Even with the Sword Saint's lightning reflexes, he was unable to catch the breath of the old hunter's attack. This was certainly because the demonic blood affected his mind and he couldn't stay calm, but it also proved that Leolox was a genuine upper-level legendary.

The old orc, who was like a mute, was now filled with anger. He stared at the Blackrock Warlord and said:

"Master? You mean to say that Blackhand wants to make slaves of the Mok'Nathal? That he wants to treat us the same as the ogres? That's what you mean, isn't it?"

"Ow"

The chief's anger was sensed by the war beast that was in tune with his mind. A black dire wolf mistress jumped up outside the tent, with the mane on its huge body standing upright, its ferocious wolf mouth open, and its bloodshot eyes staring at the Black Stone Messengers in the tent who had already drawn their weapons.

The wolf howl was like a signal, and soon the roars rose one after another throughout the mountain camp.

The Mok'nasa clan has a tradition of animal taming, and war beasts are their companions and family. So in less than a minute, the area outside the chief's tent was filled with silent Mok'nasa warriors.

They all have a sturdy physique, wear armor made of animal skins, and hold simple weapons in their hands. They are not as noisy as other orc clans, but the roars of the beasts beside them replace their battle cries.

These most deadly hunters in Gorgrond have each discovered the weaknesses of these arrogant Blackrock orcs.

Once the war starts, they can be cut into bloody meat and fed to the dogs in an instant.

"boom"

Zhubeisos was thrown in a mess at the entrance of the tent. He jumped up and wanted to draw his weapon but his arms were held down by two guards.

They were just messengers, less than ten people in total.

Even if there is a legendary swordsman here, once a conflict occurs in the Mok'Natha camp, he probably won't even have the chance to be a pathetic "three-minute superman".

These orcs have the blood of ogres, and they can hunt down giant beasts like Gronn with simple weapons. Unless the chief sends a large army to encircle and suppress them, the Mok'Nathal people hiding in the mountains and forests will have nothing to fear.

"Let me ask you one last time!"

Leolox stared at Jubei's grinning face and said:
"Does Blackhand wish to make the Mok'Nathal slaves of the Horde?"

"No, no, I made a slip of the tongue!"

Warlord Blackrock also realized that his choice of words was not precise.

The bloody history of the Mok'nasa clan has determined that the words "slave" and "master" are taboos for all of them. As the messenger of the great chief, he is indeed derelict in his duty in this regard. Moreover, how could he, a high-ranking warlord, not understand the principle that a wise man does not suffer a loss in front of him?

He took a deep breath and said:

"Since you are unwilling to respond to the call, so be it. But you know very well that next time it won't just be us recruiters who come, Leolox. You have brought your people into a desperate situation in order to enhance your own fame. I hope you are prepared for this."

Walk! "

The Blackrock Warlord glanced at the silent old chief, then turned and left the tent with his followers under the unfriendly gaze of the Mok'Nathal people.

He knew that his diplomacy and recruitment had failed, but he had no regrets. He was just a little sad that these powerful warriors could not be used by the chief.

The Blackrock orcs have always respected strength and the strong; it is a tradition ingrained in their bones.

Leolox is indeed stronger than him, so he has to admit defeat today.

Haha, but individual bravery cannot replace overall strength. The Mok'Nathal people are indeed powerful, but unfortunately they are too few in number and their weapons are too simple. Only a Blackrock Legion is needed to destroy this clan that is as stubborn as a rock.

But just as Zhubeisos was thinking about "settling the score later", when he walked to the outskirts of the hunting camp, he suddenly saw a person who should not be in the Moknasa clan camp.

Draka, the matriarch of the Frostwolf clan and a heroine that every orc had heard of, was walking out of the tent with the help of a Mok'Nathal witch doctor.

The two of them happened to fight each other.

"You! Traitor to the Frostwolves! Why are you here? Wait! The Mok'Nathal and the Frostwolves have allied?"

The Blackrock Warlord's eyes widened, and Draka seemed to be frightened as well.

But she reacted extremely quickly, grabbing a strange gem signal gun from behind and raising it to the sky. With a muffled bang, a ball of red signal flares flew into the sky and splashed into a signal to start a war.

"It's not just our two clans!"

Draka drew the cold steel battle axe from her waist. At this moment, she no longer looked weak as if she had just had a miscarriage. She rushed forward and chopped down a Blackstone messenger. With blood splattering, she swung the battle axe at Zhubei'sos, but was knocked back by the other party with a punch.

The Frostwolf heroine yelled:

"Frostwolf, Whiteclaw, Shadowmoon, Garadar, Burning Blade, and Mok'Nathal! Blackhand the Destroyer thinks he can lead the orcs, but no upright orc will obey his orders!
The Sons of Draenor will only fight to defend the world and our homeland. We will never become weapons of the ambitious!
Leorox! What are you still standing there for?
Thanks to your brilliant delay, Old White Claw has set up a perfect ambush outside. These Blackrock scum can't leave. Kill them! Use their heads to express Mok'Nathal's peace intentions to the Alliance of K'ure!

Didn’t we agree to resist together?”

"!!!"

At this moment, Zhubeisos's brain, which was burned by the devil's blood, was struck by lightning.

He understood everything at once!
Why was the envoy of the great Chieftain Blackhand left alone by the Mok'Nathal people for three days? Why did this Frostwolf heroine suddenly appear here!
OK!

It turned out to be a despicable ambush with internal and external collusion!

This group of shameless traitors want to use the head of a high-ranking warlord to seek credit and reward from the blue-skinned people, right?
Alliance of K'ure.
Haha, I've heard this term from the Warchief. It's a weak alliance formed between the blueskins, Ner'zhul, and Gaiaan. Isn't Gaiaan Draka's mother-in-law? And who in the entire orc civilization doesn't know that the Frostwolves and White Claws owe a debt of gratitude to the Mok'Nathal?
OK!

Everything is connected!

"You traitors! The Warchief will not let you go!"

Although none of the Mok'nasa people around him supported Draka's attack, Jubei'sos realized that he could not stay here.

I must break out and tell the chief this news!
The blueskins and their weak allies have already taken action. From Frostfire Ridge to Gorgrond, from Talador to Nagrand to Shadowmoon Valley, a large network of resistance against the war tribe has been established, and they are acting quietly.

The High Marshal's guards bravely resisted the attack of the heroine Draka, and Zhubei'ssos jumped back and disappeared into the shadows.

He is a sword master after all, and no one can stop him if he wants to leave.

But just after Zhubei'sos left, Draka made a sharp jump back and escaped from the battle circle, leaving several Blackrock warriors who were ready for a life-and-death battle confused.

what happened?

Why did you suddenly stop fighting?

"You! Draka! You framed us!"

The old chieftain Leolox came over with a rage.

He held a spear made of Goron bones in his hand and roared at the Frostwolf Matriarch:
"We have no intention of joining your alliance at all! I told you, Mok'Nathal will only fight for his people and homeland! We won't join the Horde, but we won't get involved in that damned Alliance of K'ure either!"

"Okay, go explain to Black Hand and see if he'll allow you to be a neutral party."

Draka struck her battle axe on the pillar next to her and said loudly:

"You've left Zhubei'sos alone for three days, and you've left us alone for three days. Do you really think that if you don't help either side, your people will be able to hide here in peace?

Don't be silly, Leorox!
Just like you had to fight with us and muster the courage to resist so we could win the Battle of Blood River! Now all of Draenor will be washed in the blood of the violent demon-blooded orcs. If you don't join this war, when everyone else is dead, the Mok'Nathal will only be the last casualties, no matter how good they are at hiding.

I don't want to do this!

But it is your stubbornness that forces me to do this.
Jubei'thos has fled. He is a sword master, and no one can stop him from sending word of your rebellion back to Blackhand.

Now you only have one choice left.”

Leolox's expression was gloomy, but under Draka's surprised gaze, after a few seconds, the old orc showed a strange smile and said:
"No! You underestimate us Mok'Nathal."

"Ok?"

Draka looked in the direction the old orc pointed in surprise.

A moment later, a tall figure appeared at the entrance of the hunting camp. He was a young warrior who was more burly than the ordinary Mok'Nathal orcs. Beside him was a huge black dire wolf with two hunting axes on his waist.

Most importantly, under Draka's shocked gaze, the young warrior was dragging the unconscious Jubeiersos in his left hand, just like a hunter out hunting, dragging a hunted wild boar.

He single-handedly stopped a legendary swordmaster determined to break out? And how long had it been? Five minutes? Even if this orc hunter had been waiting outside the camp and set a trap and ambush, there was no way the battle could have ended so quickly, right?

Blanch!
Are all you Mok'Nathal people monsters?
"Father, I'm back."

The sturdy young hunter glanced at Draka, and the coldness in his gray eyes made the heroine couldn't help but flex her fingers.

"Well done, Rexxar, my son."

Leorox said with relief:
"You saved our clan from the abyss of war. You are our hero. Now, take him."

"puff"

The splattering blood interrupted the old chief's comforting words.

Under the shocked gazes of the entire clan's hunters and warriors, and as the old chief raised his hand to speak but stared with wide eyes, Rexxar's hunting axe accurately chopped into the neck of the unconscious Blackrock Swordmaster.

Precise and cruel, like slaughtering prey.

When the headless body fell to the ground, the young warrior sighed and threw the head in his hand at the feet of his bewildered father.

He stroked the whimpering black wolf at his hand and said in a deep voice:
"But I think Lady Draka is absolutely right! She is the best and most cunning hunter. Her only mistake is making decisions for the Mok'Nathal people, and I am a member of the Mok'Nathal hunting pack.
I'll make the decision for you!

A beast that is separated from its pack will not live long, and a good hunter should not hesitate. We can no longer be isolated."

(End of this chapter)