Light's Dawn of Azeroth

Chapter 145:44. The Goria Empire retains its strong claim to Frostfire Ridge, and the Wizard King rescues his incompetent subjects.
"The Thunderlord Clan has launched an attack. They seem to have reached some agreement with the ogres and are bypassing Bladespire Fortress. Fenris has learned of the Red Scourge and he doesn't intend to wait any longer.

The Frostwolf Clan's battle for survival is about to begin.

Durotan, you have to make up your mind.

Fight? Or retreat?

In the extremely cold wind of Frostfire Ridge, in the perennially falling snow, Drek'Thar whispered something. Durotan in front of him coughed as he handed the medicine in his hand to his guard.

The coughing sounds outside the chief's tent were continuous, which was quite scary, like the scene of going to the respiratory department of the hospital when the flu hits.

But there is nothing we can do about it.

No one expected the situation to deteriorate so quickly. The climate in Frostfire Ridge is already harsh, and the red plague quietly released by the Shadow Council will only infect and take effect faster here. Once the orcs of the Frostwolf Clan become weak, they will be quickly knocked down by the harsh climate. The chieftain has to assign more people to take care of the injured, but more infected people mean more loss of power.

A vicious cycle had already begun, and coupled with the terrifying speed at which the Red Scourge spread, in less than two days, the Frostwolf Clan's combat situation in their ancestral land had gone from barely holding out to a complete collapse.

"We have nowhere to retreat, Drek'Thar."

Durotan tried hard to suppress the feeling of weakness that kept coming from his body. He looked at the gray spots spreading on his brown skin. The dense rashes made the chief dizzy.

He had a strong physique since childhood and naturally had not been infected by the red plague that the orcs avoided. But even so, he could tell that this plague was different from the previous ones. After all, he was a legendary warrior, but with such a physique, he could not withstand the ravages of the plague, not to mention the other people in the clan.

What's even more terrible is that the Demon Blood Clan on the Thunder God Clan's side shows no signs of infection. This plague is like the "Hand of War" they specially released.

"Ahem. The only option left for us is to fight."

The chief looked at the animal hide map on the table. There were several points marked on the map of Frostfire Ridge. He said:
"It's a pity that Old White Claw and Leorox fought so hard to recapture Thunder Trail for us. If it were before, we might have been able to escape Frostfire Ridge by fighting a desperate battle, breaking through the double blockade of Thundergod and Blackrock.

But the clan is in this state now. We have been defeated by the plague. Let alone charging into the battle, it will be difficult for us to resist Fenris's wolf cavalry on our own.

Drek'Thar, have the elementals send a message to Whiteclaw and Leolox, telling them to retreat to Talador and stay with the other members of the Alliance of K'ure. Don't let them stay in Frostfire Ridge.

Once we are destroyed, Fenris, who has completely taken over Frostfire Ridge, will not let them go either."

Durotan's voice was full of helplessness and regret.

This was because the red plague came at the wrong time. Before the large-scale outbreak of the disease, he was leading the Frostwolf Warriors to attack Bladespire Fortress, wanting to capture the northern fortress and allow his people to migrate in to resist the army of the war tribe.

With the help of the polar storm raised by Drek'Thar, they have even made it to the core tower on the flank of Blade Tower Fortress.

They were really just one step away from achieving the strategic goal of sheltering the clan, but the damn plague suddenly broke out at that moment, like an invisible sickle slashing through the brave Frostwolf warriors, defeating them overnight.

If Durotan had not retreated decisively when he saw the situation was not good, the elite of the clan would probably have been killed in the fierce counterattack of those ogres.

"The ogre wizards in Bladespire Fortress must have teamed up with the Shadow Council."

Thinking of the battle that failed, Durotan was very angry. He pounded the table with his fists and cursed:
"It was in that tower that we were attacked by the Red Scourge. It was definitely planted there by Gul'dan's bastard warlocks, who wanted to destroy us.

But now there is no hope of taking the tower. The tribe can only hide in their ancestral land and are plagued by plague. Fenris has seized our weakest moment like a ferocious wolf king. The Frostwolf Clan has no way to retreat.

Drek'Thar, you continue to maintain the polar storm to protect our people. I will take the remaining warriors who can still fight to the border of the territory. I will do my best to buy you time. You take your people and set off immediately to migrate to the mountains on the border of Frostfire Ridge. The wolf cavalry of the Thunder God Clan will not enter the rugged ice valley.

You can survive there."

"We can't survive! Durotan, everyone here knows how barren that icy valley is. If there were only a hundred or two hundred of us, we could have barely survived, but now the entire clan, including the elderly, weak, and injured, has tens of thousands of people!"

The legendary shaman shook his head and said:
"We can indeed hide in there and temporarily avoid the disaster of destruction, but if the Thunder God Clan can block the exit of the Ice Valley, we will starve to death there. The tribesmen infected with the plague are very weak, and their death rate in that bitter cold place will be beyond your imagination.

You're right, we've reached a point of no return, but children raised amidst the arctic storms of Frostfire Ridge are never short of courage.

Issue weapons to the tribe, Durotan."

Drek'Thar clutched his elemental battle axe and gnashed his teeth like a blind wolf.
"Have all the tribesmen accompany you to the border of the territory. There we will fight the wolf riders of Fenris! Even if the Frostwolf Clan is annihilated tonight, we will never let this ancestral land fall into the hands of that ferocious demon wolf!

You, I, and the children of the clan may all be buried here, but even if we die in battle, we will bite off a piece of the flesh of the Thunder God clan. Even if Fenris wins, it will only be a pyrrhic victory, and his proud wolf pack will be broken and bleeding today.

Oh, if you want to rule Frostfire Ridge, you must first survive the brutal fighting within the war tribe that has been corroded by brutality.

We are just a step ahead, Durotan, your elder brother will be down with us soon!"

The chief was silent.

He knew that the fact that the usually gentle Drek'Thar could say such words with blood in his voice was enough to prove that even the legendary shaman, the spiritual leader of the Frostwolves, could not find any way out of the situation. The only choices left for them were to die in battle or starve to death.

But the Frostwolf Clan is not lacking in courage. The fact that they can survive and thrive in a bitter cold place like Frostfire Ridge is enough to show the tenacity of the Frostwolves. The clan's unique "gentleness, strength and unity" allow them to burst out with unimaginable strength that other clans cannot imagine in such desperate moments.

For centuries, the ancestors of the Frostwolf Clan relied on this united will to become the rulers of Frostfire Ridge. Now, the clan is once again on the brink of extinction, and the ancient will will once again inspire them to perform miracles.

"so be it."

Durotan walked out of the tent coughing and told Drek'Thar's advice to his high-ranking warlords.

These plague-stricken warlords were silent at first, but then burst into angry war roars. They shouted the slogan "Fight to the death" and ordered their quartermasters to open their weapons boxes, take out the clan's stored cold steel battle axes and distribute them to every adult Frostwolf orc.

Not only did the craftsmen and hunters in the clan receive weapons, but even the laborers were gathered together and given simple armor.

Because of the Frostwolf Clan's gentle attitude towards their fellow tribesmen, their laborers have a much easier time than those of other clans. Although life in this hellhole of Frostfire Ridge is not enjoyable at all, at least the laborers are not treated as expendable items like other clans.

In contrast, the Frostwolf Clan's laborers also have quite good unity.

At this moment when there is no other way out, the laborers are naturally willing to shed blood and sacrifice for the Frostwolf's battle flag.

A tragic atmosphere infected the chief's camp, and as the wolf cavalry passed the order to other nearby tents, the spirit of bloody battles quickly swirled and condensed in the Frost Wolf ancestral land built around the lava land. Even the falling snow and cold wind in the sky were infected by this complex atmosphere, and the gloomy sky was rarely cleared up.

"Sorry, kids."

In Durotan's tent, the Frostwolf Chieftain coughed as he handed his spare Froststeel Battle Axe to the Saurfang siblings. He said apologetically:
"Orgrim sent you to us for refuge, but I failed to fulfill my duty as an elder. The situation is now irreversible. I am determined to lead my people and fight the pressing Fenris.

But you two are not members of the Frostwolves, so you stay here, and I will leave a wolf that knows the way.

After we set off, you will follow the wolf to the Ice Valley. Although it is barren, the resources there are enough for the two of you to survive."

"This is not your fault, Chieftain Durotan."

Solulufar took the chilling battle axe and whispered:
"My brother and I witnessed you personally leading the warriors into the Blade Tower Fortress for the sake of your people. You are the bravest and most responsible clan chief. This is all because of the damn dog warlocks who spread the plague.

My brother and I witnessed it all, and now we can finally confirm who is on the right side."

"Give me an axe!"

Young Dranosh Saurfang held out his hand to Durotan. He called out:

"My father and my uncle have turned into green monsters. They are also on the side of the Shadow Council! They also contributed to all the tragedies that occurred in this extremely cold land. My elders have disgraced the honor of our family. They say that it is loyalty to the Great Chief, but it makes me feel sick!
I am not a warrior yet, but I would rather choose to go into the battlefield with you today.

Even if I die
I also want to die in a pure manner and never become one of those corrupted greenskins!"

"Alas, I wish my Go'il could be as brave and know right from wrong as you in the future."

Durotan smiled and took out the fine hand axe that he had secretly asked a craftsman to make from the box in the tent. He stroked the orc-style one-handed battle axe, and there was an exquisite Frostwolf emblem on the cold steel axe.

This was the first gift he planned to give to his son after Guil was born.

but now.
"Take it, child."

Durotan handed Dranosh the axe and found him a round shield to protect him. He said:

"This is the gift I leave to my son. I call it 'The Glory of Frostfire Ridge'. I hope my son can become the heroic chieftain of the Frostwolf Clan in the future, just like his mother and I have dedicated everything to the clan.

But I may never have the chance to meet him. I hope this axe blesses you, just as I once hoped it would bless my son.

If you ever meet my son in the future, please remember to tell him how much his father loves him."

"I will never dishonor this weapon! I swear on the honor of House Saurfang!"

Dranosh shouted loudly.

Although he was just a teenager, his ferocious roar indeed had some of the characteristics of a warrior. Durotan stared at him and judged in his heart that this kid would definitely become an orc hero who was destined to be remembered in the future.

He put on his clan's armor and the helmet made from the fur of his first wolf, and walked out of the tent with the children. His warriors had already assembled in the camp. Even though there was a lot of coughing and the warriors were weakened by the red scourge, they still tried to stand beside their respective wolves and maintain their pride and honor.

The Frostwolf clan's battle flag was raised high, and the armed clan civilians in the rear were also shouting that they would give everything for the Frostwolf clan.

They may have been tortured by the vicious epidemic and turned into a group of sickly wolves, but they still have the courage to fight to the death for their territory and foreign enemies.

Durotan felt a deep sense of pride in his people. He felt honored to be the chieftain of such noble orcs. Frostfire Ridge would surely remember this battle! Just like the legendary "Battle of Blood River," decades or even centuries later, orcs would still recount this story with respect.

Even though the Frostwolf Clan had already disappeared into history by then.

"Chief! The Thunder God Clan's messenger has arrived!"

Just as Durotan was about to lead his warriors to the border for a decisive battle, accompanied by a noise, a team of six Thunder Wolf cavalrymen arrogantly waved their battle flags and crossed the wind and snow into Durotan's tent.

They sat behind their ferocious war wolves, looking at the remnants of the defeated army who were tortured by the plague with contempt.

The Thunder God Clan has always been brutal and ferocious. Not only are they cruel to outsiders, they are also cruel to their own people. In their view, those who can be defeated by the plague are not good warriors. However, they completely ignore the fact that the reason why this enhanced version of the red disaster did not attack them is simply because they have drunk another curse to replace the condemnation of weakness.

"Durotan! Blood of the Wolf King! I come on behalf of Thundergod's Wolf King!" The captain of the envoys rode his black "Iron Wolf" and shouted in a cold and violent voice from under his helmet:

"Wolf King Fenris gave you and your clan a chance because you were born from the same litter as him and because of the last words of his fierce brother Ga'nar, who had passed away.

Lay down your weapons!
Abandon the name of Frostwolf and join the Thundergod clan. The Wolf King will generously allow you to continue to stay in your ancestral land, and Frostfire Ridge will not see any more bloodshed and sacrifice today.

We are all children of Frostfire Ridge, and every life on this land is precious and can become a member of the Wolf King's hunting pack."

"Haha, then I really have to thank my big brother for his 'kindness'."

Durotan leaned on his battle axe, coughing and saying:

"But at what cost?"

"Drink these potions, they will help you dispel the blight of weakness, making you weaklings as strong as us! The Wolf King will grant you the glory of conquerors!"

The messenger threw the bottle of magic blood in his arms, and it landed in the snowdrift in front of Durotan. He shouted:

"We will unite as one, galloping across the land of Draenor under the banner of the Thunderlord clan. Our iron hooves will ruthlessly trample everything here. We will bathe the world in blood and honor our ancestors with their skulls.

After the sinister blueskins are defeated, the whole world will belong to us!

Don't worry about the power of Frostfire Ridge falling into the hands of others, Durotan. After conquering the whole world, the Wolf King will only challenge the throne of the Great Chief! Then, as his blood relative, you can also enjoy the same power. "

The messenger's voice became louder and louder, and he seemed to really regard this surrender as a kind of "mercy".

他 说:

"The Wolf King cherishes your talent. He knows that he wields power, while you possess the wisdom to strengthen the pack. You are true blood relatives. You should cooperate with your fellow wolves, leading the wolves of Frostfire Ridge to dominate the world!

Drink it, Durotan.

Drink it, and you will be able to protect your people. Drink it, and you will be able to join the wolf pack and lead it. We all grew up here, and we all admire your wisdom. Just get rid of your last weakness."

Durotan felt his elder brother's sincerity.

Although those who heard these words wanted to crush the arrogant fool in front of them, for a lone wolf like Fenris, the fact that he was willing to send an envoy to persuade Durotan to surrender before the final battle showed that he really still retained the last bit of "brotherhood" for Durotan.

Perhaps it was true, as the messenger said, that this was because of the last words of their common brother Ga'nar before his death, a tragedy that was forever engraved in the hearts of Durotan and Fenris.

Durotan bent down and picked up the bottle from the snow. Everyone was looking at him, and the Frostwolf Chief looked at the sticky liquid in the bottle, then smiled and threw the thing at the messenger in front of him, causing the pungent demon blood to explode on the latter's body.

The messenger roared, but was met with a blow from the axe.

The cold steel gleamed with a cold light. When the axe fell to the ground, half of the guy's body flew out in a splatter of blood. His wolf, which was obviously strengthened by magic power, wanted to bite him, but Durotan's white wolf pounced on him and locked his neck. In the crazy biting, the smelly blood was splattered everywhere.

"Ow!"

The chieftain's slaughter caused the high warlords to roar.

They rushed forward, pulled down the messengers and beat them to death with their fists. The magic wolves were also surrounded and bitten by the wolves of the Frostwolf Clan.

Finally, only the last messenger was left. Facing the surrounding warriors, he was shaking with fear, showing none of the courage and heroism that an Iron Wolf pack should have. Even though he drank the devil's blood, his rationality that had not yet dissipated did not allow him to make a foolish choice.

"Let's go back."

Durotan spared his life, saying:

"Take the Frostwolf Clan's answer to Fenris and tell my eldest brother that only the Frostwolf Clan are the children of Frostfire Ridge. Your 'wolf pack' is a disgrace to this land!

He'd better kill every member of the Frostwolf Clan today. Otherwise, even if there's only one orc left who bears the name of Frostwolf, he'll definitely do everything in his power to destroy the Thunderlord Clan! Your ugly behavior makes me feel sick. Your so-called glory is a joke.

Bah, a bunch of beasts shouting glory.
Ga'nar, my second brother, I'm sorry that I couldn't maintain our brotherhood according to your last wish, but please watch as you witness the last battle of the Frostwolf Clan among the ancestors."

The messenger was severely beaten by the warlords, and the lame wolf with a broken leg was returned to him. Amid the ridicule of the Frostwolf Clan, the lonely messenger disappeared in the wind and snow as if fleeing. The Frostwolf Clan was also ready to set off to their final destiny. However, as soon as this "Mourning Army" left their ancestral land, they saw a group of ogres riding steel-armored wild boars blocking their way.

The warlords were about to draw their swords but were stopped by Durotan and Drek'Thar at the same time.

The team of ogres in front of him were not the local Bladespire ogres. The battle flags they carried were from Nagrand. Durotan could even recognize the emblem of the Gorian Empire. After all, his mother had lived in Nagrand since she left Frostfire Ridge. Over the years, when he occasionally visited relatives, he would listen to Mother Gaia describe the history of the Ogre Empire.

The sudden appearance of these ogres in Frostfire Ridge made Durotan sense a change. Considering the inside story of the Alliance of K'ure described in the letter sent back by his wife and the previous reminder from Orgrim, the Frostwolf Chieftain felt an irrepressible ecstasy in his heart.

This legendary chief, who was born and raised in Frostfire Ridge, had ambushed an ogre caravan with his father and two older brothers when he was seven years old, and had spent almost his entire life hunting ogres, never thought that one day he would be delighted by the appearance of a group of ogres.

He never imagined that his clan would have to survive because of a group of ogres.

But even so, Durotan still asked the others to stay here, and he and Drek'Thar rode the wolf forward. Before they could speak, the ogre captain in front of them shouted loudly in a rather awkward orcish language:

"I am the High Centurion of the Goria Empire Expeditionary Force, 'Hand of the King' Tormok! You brown-skinned orcs, listen up!

His Majesty Mar'gok, the sole and supreme king of all ogres in Draenor, the glorious leader of the Gorian Empire, the lord of Highmaul, Bladespire Fortress and all the imperial territories, the leader of the Alliance of K'ure, and the honorable wizard leader, has personally arrived in your remote and poor place where it is so cold that it makes people's testicles shrink.

His Majesty is waiting not far away for the chieftain and shaman of the Frostwolf clan to come to him for an audience. You two consumptive idiots, why don't you hurry up and get ready and put on your best clothes. If you don't have any, I can lend them to you poor idiots.

If there is a tribute, prepare it! It is proper etiquette to present it to the king.

Come with me quickly!
If you make His Majesty wait too long, you will suffer the consequences!"

"what?"

Seeing the usually stupid and savage ogre say so many words in one breath, and using many complex Orcish words that even Drek'Thar felt unfamiliar, the Frostwolf Chieftain and his legendary shaman were stunned.

This situation doesn't look right.

Do you ogres from other places have so many rules? And why did so many of you come here at once?

We in the remote Frostfire Ridge cannot possibly receive so many distinguished guests at once.

But Durotan suppressed the strangeness in his heart. He took a step forward, coughing and trying to show his identity as a chief. He said:

"I have learned some information about the Alliance of K'ure from my wife, but I did not know in advance that the Wizard Leader, uh, I mean, His Majesty, would come to Frostfire Ridge in person. Please forgive us for our poor hospitality.

But you also saw, Senior Centurion, that I was about to lead my people who were suffering from the plague to fight a decisive battle with the foreign enemy. Right now, it is indeed..."

"Humph."

The high-ranking centurion representing the Gorian wizard leader had an unhappy look on his face. Although his expression could not be seen due to his exaggerated helmet, Durotan could clearly feel that the ogre in front of him was looking at him with disdain.

Then, the guy waved his hand and said:
"Alright, alright, Your Majesty has foreseen everything and has long known of your predicament.

Your Frostwolf clan only has so many people, so don't try to take it all in one go. Under the order of His Majesty the Merciful, the Imperial fleet at the port of Highmaul is moving towards the flat area on the southern coast of Frostfire Ridge. You are all locals, so you naturally know how to get to those places.

Release the hunters under your command and quickly contact our fleet to pick you up. His Majesty's fleet will be responsible for sending you poor consumptives to Nagrand. In order to save you, Mother Gaiaan took out all the treasures that Garadar had saved over the years and presented them to His Majesty as tribute, but this is obviously not enough.

so.
I mean, any orc with a conscience couldn't turn a blind eye to such an expensive life-saving favor, right?

Your Majesty certainly doesn't care about those money-making things, but the Empire's loyal navy always needs some "extra allowances" to stimulate their work enthusiasm. Therefore, considering that you are also a chief, I remind you to remember to bring some "personnel" when you let your people board the ship.
Look at you, you look so silly!
Do you need me to explain to you what "human affairs" means? Don't you understand the basic social etiquette?

Tsk, the orcs are indeed a group of uncivilized barbarians."

"No, honorable Centurion, we certainly understand this. Please rest assured. If the Gorian Empire's fleet can save the Frostwolf Clan in this critical moment and transport our people to the Nagrand Steppes, all the wealth our clan has accumulated over the years can be presented as tribute to your majesty."

Drek'Thar stepped forward, and the legendary shaman shouted:
"It just so happens that this place is not far from our ancestral land. While my chief and I are changing into our audience attire, could you please go there and help us choose the most suitable tribute?"

As he spoke, the legendary shaman took out the elemental battle axe that he had carried with him for many years and handed it to the "Hand of the King" in front of him in a concealed manner.

High-ranking Centurion Tomok glanced at the battle axe in his hand. As a descendant of the noble family of Highmaul Castle under the Zhengoria Banner, he could tell at a glance that this axe had been soaked in elements for many years and was a true divine weapon. He immediately changed his attitude to an enthusiastic one.

While asking his followers to quickly lead the orcs to find the Imperial fleet to rescue them, he rode his steel-armored war boar and followed Durotan and the legendary shaman to the ancestral land of the Frostwolf clan.

As he walked, the guy also reminded:

"Your Majesty has come here to bring back those ogre legions from Blade Tower Fortress that have strayed far from the empire's borders and forgotten their noble past. Of course, I have also come to rescue you for the unity of the K'ure Alliance.

Afterwards, the Dota Fortress will belong to you, and the rule of the Ogres will belong to Your Majesty!
But to be honest, Your Majesty is young and strong, and has a greater desire to achieve great things and restore the imperial legitimacy. Therefore, if you lower your posture when you meet him later, it will make His Majesty feel better.

Oh, by the way, there is one more thing you must know.

Your Majesty came to Frostfire Ridge this time to meet His Excellency Leolox, the 'Grand Duke of Mok'nasa Hunting' of our Goria Empire.

His Majesty wants to discuss with the Grand Duke the important matter of the Mok'nasa clan returning to the lineage of the Goria Empire, and by the way, personally commend Grand Duke Leolox for his great achievements in helping the Empire kill the rebellious Kolgorok in the Battle of Blood River many years ago.

So, is our Ogre Empire's 'Hunting Duke' nearby?

It would be best if he also prepared for the audience."

"Huh? Who?!"

Ps:

I discovered an embarrassing thing. Maraad's nickname among players is "Uncle", but I always remembered it as "Big Uncle". Fortunately, my readers reminded me and I have changed it.

(End of this chapter)