Azeroth’s Death Track

When a person is about to die, whether it is a great ruler or a humble commoner, he will always take some time to recall his life, whether it is impassioned or plain, but it is all life that he has experienced It is a life that cannot be abandoned.

It is a proof that a person, a life exists in the world.

At the dawn of Mount Hyjal, against the backdrop of the night, Grom Hellscream leaning on his battle ax stood in front of his son. He carefully looked at Garrosh's face. With a face covered in black ash and blood stains, Grom seemed to see himself in his youth.

The self who led the tribesmen to hunt and gallop freely on the Nagrand grassland, the young man who yearned for glory and war, and the young man who was eager to prove himself, the one who was finally lost in the war, lost everything, and even lost everything. Ego tyrants and thugs.

The first half of my life was really sinful.

my son...

Grom spoke, and said:

When I was young, I did a lot of wrong things. At that time, I was madly pursuing strength and strength, and despised all weaknesses. Your mother was seriously injured during a hunting. She begged for my help. But I laughed at her, I laughed at her for being a weak person, and when she was dying, I helped her understand the pain with my own hands, and I thought it was a relief.

But no, my son.

This past has been hidden in Grom's heart until today. At this moment of parting, he told Garrosh, while the young orc bowed his head. He didn't know how to respond to his father, but Garrosh could sense that this was probably the last time he and his father would speak.

When you were first brought to Azeroth by the old Nazgorin, the reason why I alienated you, the reason why I despised you is here...

Grom smiled:

I dare not face you, son, when I see your eyes again, I will always think of that poor woman who was abandoned by me. I used to think that I would not be bound by feelings, but in fact, that is me. One of the most regrettable things in my life... I gave up my family.

do not talk...

Garrosh clenched his fists and said softly:

Stop talking, father, we still have a lot of time in the future...

No, son, there is no time.

Grom interrupted Garrosh's self-comfort. He stretched out his hand and patted his son's shoulder. At this moment, Grom was not like that strong chief, but a real father, a kind father. , a man who has let go of all his past, said to his son:

I know that when you were a child, it was very difficult for you to live with the mother of Gaia'an, because of the evil things I did, I took the lead in drinking the blood of the devil, and let the evil power sweep the entire orc tribe, the source of this disaster Not just Malonorth, but me... I know that other children hate you because of this, and ostracize you because your father was a butcher, a villain, a man who brought disaster and war.

I am indeed such a person, but I'm sorry, son, I let you bear those heavy things for me.

No, father!

Garrosh raised his head, and for the first time this brave and reckless young man had tears in his eyes. This was probably the first time Garrosh shed tears. Even when he was on the verge of death in the battle in Northrend, he would Not a single tear was shed.

But at this moment, Garrosh no longer concealed his inner emotions, he firmly grasped Grom's icy and cold wrist, and he begged the same:

No, you are the best father in the world, you are strict with me, you push me to the path of a true warrior, father, you are a true hero, you put an end to this, no one can discredit this! I have Confirmed, you are the hero in my heart, I want to be someone like you, father... I need your guidance in my life.

Don't leave me! Don't give up on me!

wow

Grom held the heavy battle ax Gorehowl in his hands. He held the battle ax in both hands, the heritage of the Warsong clan, the Hand of the Chieftain. He handed it to the tearful Garrosh, Grom A gleam of pride flashed in his eyes:

Don't try to be me, Garrosh.

To be a better man than I am...a warsong chieftain worth following.

My son, Garrosh Hellscream, today, in the name of Warsong Chieftain, I declare...you will take over the power and mission from me, and you will become the next Warsong Chieftain!

Grom looked at his son and said softly:

Take it, Garrosh.

I will watch you in hell, my son. The story of Hellscream in the old era will end here, and the legendary life of Hellscream in the new era will also begin here. Use your future legend , honor me...

—————————————————

While Hellscream's family inheritance was going on, at the other end of the battlefield, Kilrogg Deadeye sat on Malonors's already icy head, his only remaining eye looked at the darkness floating in the sky, that In the deepest darkness before the dawn, the blood ring orc who had seen his own death phantom silently waited for the end of his life.

Behind him, Yolin Dead Eye quietly accompanied his father.

As a member of the Blood Ring clan, Yuelin knew from a young age that death is inevitable in a person's life, and everyone will welcome death, so about the fact that his father will always die, Yuelin already had a long time ago. With mental preparation, like other members of the Blood Ring clan, he didn't think it was a miserable parting.

Praising death, praising death, that is the tradition of the Blood Ring clan.

Yorin...

Compared with the Hellscream father and son, the communication between the dead-eyed father and son is much easier. Kilrogg played with the hunting stick reshaped by the black fire of death in his hand, and he turned to look at his son:

I'm going to die, you little brat, don't you have anything to say to me?

If you really need a blessing, then, I would say, I wish you a safe journey.

Jorin shrugged, and the young orc said to his father:

You told me since I was a child that death is inevitable, and every blood ring orc should learn to laugh at death, right?

Yes, that's right, that's what I taught you.

Kilrogg shrugged. The old orc seemed to be wide-eyed. He moved his fingers, closed his eyes, and leaned against the head of Maronos behind him. He said softly as if recalling the past:

When I was young, Jolin, in the Bleeding Hollow Vault on the Hellfire Peninsula, like my ancestors, I performed the Dead Eye Ritual, consecrated one of my eyes, and saw visions of my death...but You know what? That vision was wrong, or rather, it should have happened, but it didn't...

I should have died in the tearing doom of the collapsed world of Draenor, quietly, with no bones left, but I didn't...I waited for that death to come, but there wasn't...it It seems to have forgotten me, let me live until now, and finally, it found me, in such a form, reminding me, hey, bastard, it's time for you to come back.

The old chief said in a relaxed tone:

Do you know? Compared with other people, my life is already complete. At least when I die, I am no longer alone, and you, the brat, are with me.

As he spoke, Kilrogg turned his head to look at his son, a complicated light flashed in his one eye:

But my son, you have to remember...death is no longer death, it has been endowed with a deeper definition, don't be hostile to it, especially in this world.

Father!

In the end, Jolin was not as calm as he appeared. Under his robe, he clenched his fists tightly, and he said in a trembling tone:

While I was performing the Dead Eye ritual... I saw something special, and in that vision, I saw me standing with you, in a huge and gorgeous palace of the gods, us and many others People sitting together and drinking wine...I saw a lot of people, Thrall, Garrosh, even the human Varian king, the draenei...

What does that phantom... that phantom of death represent?

Um...

Kilrogg looked at his son with a playful look, and he said softly:

That is a blessing, the blessing of death... You just need to know that it is a future, you don't need to resist it, it will come naturally...

After finishing speaking, a pulsating black flame burned rapidly on Kilrogg's hunting stick, reshaping the sturdy weapon, and under the gaze of Dead Eye, a skeleton staff made of animal bones appeared in front of him In his hand, he threw it to his son:

The Blood Ring Clan is yours now, brat.

Now, get out! Don't bother me, let me experience the tranquility when death comes.

———————————————

It suits you well, Thrall.

Great Chief Orgrim looked at Thrall leaning on the stone in front of him with a scrutinizing gaze. Death Sage Drek'Thar was using a special method to mobilize the power of elements to heal Thrall's seriously injured body. After embracing death, Drek'Thar's use of the elements has become more brutal, he no longer calls out, pleads for the power of the elements, instead, he controls it, like... the tyrant of the elements.

But it's yours, Warchief.

Thrall handed the black hammer in his hand to Orgrim with difficulty, and he looked at the chief with his blue eyes:

The Hammer of Doom is your family heirloom, and it is the symbol of the great chief of the orc tribe. I am not qualified to hold it yet.

Orgrim stared at the hammer handed over by Thrall, he shrugged:

Then who do you think I should give it to? Garrosh? It might not take five years for that petulant little bastard to end the Horde we've tried to build in a war, Dranosh? That kid hides There are some things, Sal, you know better than me, he has a knot in his heart, and he can't really make me feel at ease until this knot is opened.

Yorin is a blood ring orc. Blood ring orcs have a kind of worship and desire for death in their bones. He is also not suitable to be the leader of the tribe... Rexxar is too lonely, Brooks is too old, I can still rely on who?

The great chief patted Thrall on the shoulder:

It's just you, Thrall.

but...

No, I know what you're going to say, and I know what you're going to say.

Orgrim interrupted Thrall's rebuttal. He stretched out his hand, pressed it on the cold surface of Doomhammer, and then put the hammer in Thrall's arms. He said:

You'll say that your soul doesn't look like a real orc...but what does it matter? Thrall...no one cares what your soul is, they only see your appearance, see Your prudent behavior, seeing your wise thinking, seeing your excellent overall view, you are already qualified, boy, all the chiefs are very satisfied with you, not to mention...we old men still owe your father A love.

If Durotan didn't die, then he would be the best and most outstanding chieftain of the new tribe, but unfortunately, my brother died early in the war, but fortunately, he left a blood inheritance of his own.

Orgrim looked into Thrall's eyes:

You have to be clear, Thrall, don't regard the power of the great chief as a gift, as a good thing.

What I give you is a difficult responsibility and a heavy mission. The orcs and humans have signed a peace agreement, which is good, but the rift between the orcs and elves has appeared, and you need to spend a lot of energy and time To make up for it... Of course, you can also resort to war, which is also a way to solve it. After the demon war, the elf civilization in a weak period may be defeated by the joint attack of humans and orcs.

But, is that really what we want to see?

The great chief shook his head, he looked back at the dancing light in the distant sky, and said softly:

Sarr... lead the tribe to move forward, but you must always be vigilant to this world, the external veil of this world is being lifted bit by bit, a real, more cruel world will appear in front of you ...

I know you'll make the right choice, you always have...

Behind Thrall, the hand of the elder Drek'Thar patted him on the shoulder, and the always wise old orc whispered:

The bells of the old age have sounded, Thrall, after humans, the old guys in the orc civilization will also leave, then the night elves, then the draenei... a world hanging high The will's desire to see a new world stronger and more united is not a yearning, but a demand, a compulsion, a pressure...

In the light of dawn, Orgrim's black armor began to waft like burnt ashes, and so did the other chieftains. Sacrifice, to win the last time for the new generation.

Don't let him down, Thrall.

Orgrim took a step back. In the halo of the dawn, he opened his arms, as if to embrace the sunlight. In this dawn, the civilization of the orcs slowly turned a new page. In the ashes Dissipating among the lights, the deep voice sounded in the ears of all young people like a farewell:

Young people, don't let... us down...