Azeroth’s Death Track

In the early morning, when the sun shines on the hills of Hillsbrad again, the elves who are far away from their homeland wake up from their slumber and start a new busy day. However, compared with the past, the atmosphere in the prisoner-of-war camp seems somewhat Some chills.

At this time, four full years have passed since Zul'jin's prison break, but for the long-lived elves, this is only an insignificant amount of time...

The news from Quel'Thalas indicates that the Amani trolls have become increasingly unstable recently!

Tyrion sat in the slightly crude command room of the camp, and conveyed the news to his subordinates.

In front of him was the captain of the three Farstrider Rangers under his command, and the second only to his commander in the camp. After four years of working together, they had become Tyrion's indispensable and outstanding subordinates.

A tactical map of Hillsbrad Hills was spread out on the table, which was drawn by the elite Farstriders, and Tyrion's finger was sliding repeatedly on the map.

All the elves, including him, looked unhappy, because this matter related to their sworn enemy - the forest troll.

The day before yesterday, our scouts found traces of troll headhunters nearby. The initial estimate is that there are about 20 of them. According to their regular staffing, there are probably hundreds of those beasts coming this time!

Obviously! Some idiots who don't want to lose are plotting another Zul'kin rescue.

Tyrion crossed his hands on the table, supporting his chin, and a moment later, his fingers tapped the river near the camp:

Here, the supply point closest to the camp is also the only way to the hills from the direction of the Hinterlands. I decided to set up an ambush here! Since those trolls dare to come, I believe they are ready to die in battle , what we have to do is to send them to meet their Loa God!

But Tyrion... there is something you must know.

The oldest ranger captain hesitated a bit, his black eyebrows raised, and he tapped his finger near the camp on the map, where there was a castle sign, and he whispered:

The owner of Dunholde Castle has warned us several times! In the name of defending against the orc invasion, he asked us to report every action to him in advance.

You're talking about Captain Blackmoore of the human kingdom of Alterac, right?

Tyrion rubbed his forehead, let his pale golden slender eyebrows dance up and down, he said softly:

If I remember correctly, he has asked us more than once to cooperate with his infantry to carry out large-scale raids on the local area... What a small character who doesn't know the importance, ignore him! Let's continue to do our business.

Tyrion raised his brows, looked at the three silent ranger captains beside him, coughed lightly, and said:

At least until he solves the internal troubles and ruthlessly cleans up those disgusting alien gladiators held in his castle, the captain has no right to ask about any of our actions, and we will not disclose any details of our actions to him. Details, this is for the sake of confidentiality!

Tyrion spread his hands and made a helpless expression:

You all know that there are trolls among those alien gladiators, and they are likely to reveal our country's secrets. I believe that, as a qualified veteran, Captain Blackmoore will definitely understand our difficulties...

This strong word made the other two captains couldn't help laughing. The ranger captain who didn't laugh was a young man. He was obviously worried about the conflict between the two sides, so he asked:

Captain Tyrion, what if that captain doesn't understand us? After all, we are in human territory...

If he doesn't understand, if he still wants to interfere with any of our actions, let him go directly to his king! Then let his king send a messenger to our king!

Tyrion's eyes fell on the command table in front of him, he breathed a sigh of relief, and said softly:

Although we are on human land, this prisoner-of-war camp belongs to the Kingdom of Quel'Thalas! Human laws and rules can't control us!

The camp supervisor turned his head to look at the youngest Ranger Captain, with a smile in his eyes:

Our king paid for it, understand?

Soon, the two captains were assigned tasks and got up to leave. There were only two people left in the conference room. The oldest ranger captain was named Rogelio Sunfury, Tyrion's most trusted deputy. Before, he hesitated for a while, and said to Tyrion in front of him with some worry:

Captain, you may not care about this news, but the situation of the prisoner Zulkin recently...something is not good, it may be due to the recent weather, his old injury has recurred, and it has begun to be infected.

Huh? Infected?

When Ranger heard the news, he felt a little unbelievable. He looked at the brother in front of him, and after confirming that Rogelio was not joking, he shook his head:

Rogge, I remember that you set foot on the battlefield 200 years ago, and I, I was later than you. I only killed the first enemy in my life 150 years ago. It was a troll.

After that, I and my mentor, and my friends, and you, killed those trolls with bows, knives, daggers, and torches. On the battlefield, I have seen trolls hacked to death , poisoned trolls, burned trolls, but the only troll I've ever seen die from infected wounds... have you?

Of course not! I know what you're trying to say, Tyrion.

Rogelio shook his head and said in a deep voice:

I know that with the troll's self-healing ability, it is impossible to die from wound infection, but the special envoy from Silvermoon City will come here soon. You know, the superior wants Zul'jin to live. I am worried that if we treat him badly Will it cause some unnecessary trouble if I don't ask?

Didn't we keep him alive now? Roger...

Hearing Rogelio's persuasion, Tyrion's eyes flashed coldly, and even his words became stiff, but after a while, his tone became softer:

I know what you're worried about, old friend, don't worry, I won't disrupt the plans of the big figures at the top because of my hatred, and my mentor has repeatedly told me, I know the severity, but this level of injury will not It will affect Zul'kin's life and death, so we don't need to think about it.

While talking, Tyrion changed his subject. He didn't want to say too much on this issue. Looking at the old friend in front of him, he asked casually:

Rogge, I remember you haven't been back to Quel'Thalas for 2 years? Don't you really plan to stay in a human place for the rest of your life, and you can only be your grandson at this age, but arrogant like your grandfather? Dealing with human nobles? I remember that little Kane is still waiting for you to go back in Silvermoon City.

Hearing this, Rogelio smiled, his eyes softened:

Who wants to stay here... Oh, yes! I have something to tell you. The Ranger General has approved my request to retire. I can go home next month to spend time with my family and me. Little Kane, so this is my last month with all of you, Tyrion.

Hey! Don't say that! Forget it!

Tyrion's face suddenly became strange, he stood up, and patted Rogelio's shoulder:

Please, don't plant flags for yourself anymore! Old brother, let's go, we are on duty today, we can go have some drinks.

Eh? What flag? What do you mean by that?

It's nothing interesting, don't take it to heart, let's go, before it's too late, we can go hunting by the way...

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For many people, the most painful thing in life is waiting for the imminent death, but in fact there is another unbearable torture, which is to imprison freedom, to take such things away from a creature forever, and never to die again. There is nothing more cruel than it.

Fingers twitched on the handle of the knife at his waist, Tyrion stood silently in the darkness, looking at the old troll moaning on the cold ground in the dark cage in front of him.

Zul'jin... the poor man he caught twice and took his freedom twice.

He was naked to the waist, and his green skin was engraved with charms from the ancient beliefs of the trolls, the spiritual sanctification of the beast spirit loa. In battle, these charms can bring them powerful and wild strength. His body He is tall and tall, and one can immediately think of this guy's invincible heroic appearance on the battlefield, but his current body has become emaciated due to long-term confinement and abuse.

But this cannot hide the viciousness and cunning in his eyes in the darkness. It is worth mentioning that the right eye of this old troll was gouged out by Tyrion himself on the battlefield.

Ahem...why don't you come closer to me and take another look? Tyrion Dawnblade...the guy who brutally took my right eye!

You are 300 years old, why do you still look like a coward! Just like on the battlefield back then, you hid behind that woman and didn't dare to confront me head-on... like a frightened chicken! Hehehe... Cough cough, ah, cough cough cough!

In the dark, he laughed hoarsely at Tyrion, but the mocking ended with a piercing cough.

When he became quiet again, Tyrion took a step forward from the darkness. He stood outside the cage, staring at the old troll in front of him with calm eyes:

But chickens rule your life... Zul'jin, you deserved to die long ago! You deserved to die on the battlefield long ago, every day of your life is earned by those idiots in Silvermoon City. ..but it doesn't matter, I'm actually very happy to see you lingering on your last breath.

Tyrion paused, and said with some regret:

And for this one, my biggest regret...it was 170 years too late!

Zul'jin was captured 5 years ago in a small war in which Nastarian, the current Sun King of Quel'Thalas, personally led the army to break through the troll fortress in the Evernight Forest.

At the end of the war, Tyrion and his mentor, Lady Liresa Windrunner, the current Ranger General, captured the escaped Zul'jin alive on the edge of the battlefield. It cost a lot, but it was a complete victory.

Zul'jin should have died at that time, but the king, after consulting with his advisers, decided to imprison him outside the borders.

Their plan is actually very simple. Zul'jin is quite prestigious in the Amani troll tribe. After he is captured, no matter whether the remaining trolls are planning to resist to the end or to redeem the chief, they will all evolve into the Amani tribe. Split, and this kind of split is exactly what the high elves want to see.

That means the Big Ones can use all sorts of tricks to weaken them!

The trolls have a strong ability to reproduce. These forest beasts only need 10 years to grow a generation, while an excellent elf ranger needs at least 30 years of training before entering the battlefield, and it takes longer to train a mage. Combined with the poor fertility of the high elves, confrontation is never a good option.

Continuously weakening this insidious strategy is the most suitable for dealing with trolls.

But you need to know...reasonable things are not necessarily reasonable.

With the number of elves who died in Zul'jin's hands and the blood that was not cleansed on his hands, Tyrion is sure that if given the chance, all the rangers in this camp, and even the entire Quel'Thalas, would do nothing. Kill him hesitantly.

170 years? Let old Zul'kin think about it...

The old troll sat cross-legged in a special magic cage with difficulty, and he whispered in a weird voice that made people want to beat him:

170 years ago, I was probably still in the holy place of the Amani tribe, on the altar of Zul'Aman, and I sacrificed a lot of looted elves with my own hands... Oh, I remembered! It was a couple. ..that man was very brave, he tried to protect his wife, but I cut out his heart with a knife, and he died a terrible death!

Because the escape failed 4 years ago, the right arm that Zulkin himself cut off has been recovered, and he did not lose it in the end. He waved his fingers and made a heart-pumping movement. There was a hint of ferocity in his eyes, and he felt a little regretful. explain:

As for that woman...it's a pity, I've forgotten what she looks like, I just remember that when I strangled her to death with my own hands, she screamed in pain like a dying kitten... That made me very happy.

The old troll blinked and looked at Tyrion in front of him:

What was her name? Teresa? Tessa? Or Talia? Sorry, old Zulkin is too old for me to remember these things.

Can you tell me the answer, my dear little Tyrion?

The air in the cage froze at this moment, and after a few seconds, Tyrion said:

Teresa Dawnblade, my mother... and Carol Dawnblade, my father, my only two relatives, you killed them, so I will eventually kill you , completely destroy Amani, do you have any objections?

Hehehe! What a joke!

Tyrion's question made the old troll laugh a lot, and his voice became more and more strange in the darkness:

You keep saying I killed your favorite parents, but look at your eyes, Tyrion, eyes don't lie, I don't see a wave in your eyes when you mention their names, calm You are like two strangers, admit the reality! You ruthless bastard, your parents are not even as important to you as the woman who protected you on the battlefield!

The old troll took two sharp breaths, causing the wild spell on his body to roll along with his skin.

I'm curious, who is your real relative? The poor Dawnblade couple, or the widowed and beautiful ranger-general Liresa Windrunner? Oh, yes, her poor husband is also dead. In my hand, and I've heard...

With a weird smile on Zul'jin's face, he put his hands on the railing of the cage in front of him. He lowered his voice, as if he was challenging Tyrion's final bottom line:

I heard that she values ​​you very much, and has a kind of intimacy that surpasses the relationship between master and apprentice...Look at you, what a handsome young man...This is also normal, isn't it? Men and women things...

Did anyone tell you, Zul'kin, that you can't talk!

bass

The elf war knife was unsheathed, and the beating blade illuminated the darkness of the cage, piercing the old body in front of him with precision, causing the blood to scatter in all directions in anger.

puff