Stormwind God

Woking was totally speechless.

Everyone, because of their growth environment, growth experience, ethnic status, and other factors, will have their vision limitations.

Woking is very clever, otherwise he would not be Thrall's main think tank.

He also has its limitations. After all, he is nothing more than a chief of a troll clan who stands out from the many primitive troll clan.

Trolls have fought hard in the past 25,000 years. From the distant past, the world ’s largest race, with two empires across the entire ancient Kalimdor continent, it has become a tribe of small families. .

Of course, he can not take other troll clans seriously. What really makes him vigilant is that the alliance has done nothing. The alliance is not a peaceful organization, but they completely destroyed Zul'Aman, which is located in the ghostly land in the southeast of Yongge Forest , And Zul'Gurub located in the east of Stranglethorn Vale.

This corresponds exactly to the two most brilliant empires in the history of trolls, the Amani Empire and the Gurubashi Empire.

Not only that, the Rotten Clan in the Eastern Plaguelands was also slaughtered by the Alliance.

Although the alliance started with absolute justifications, because these clans were behind the alliance when the world encountered a major crisis, but this could not hide the decisiveness and fierceness of the alliance.

Once again, as long as the line of justice in the alliance's heart is crossed, the fate of the alliance will be mercilessly destroyed.

The times have changed. If the cold weapon era was used before, the trolls could still use magic to combat magic. Now, whether it is the hot weapons of the Alliance ’s terrible flying fleet, or the highly developed magic net magic civilization, the living creatures can't just fight with their flesh.

As soon as Thrall reminded, Woking immediately realized that the tribe was good, and several races that had once joined the tribe were in a very dangerous situation.

Woking was discouraged: "Bottom? What is it?"

Thrall smiled bitterly: "The Alliance and the dragon guardian of the Temple of Dragon Sleep set a plan to deal with Nexario the World Destroyer. I need to be a standby. You know? Old friends, now the tribe ... or orcs, etc. A race needs a righteous name. Only with this name, even if the tribe is bad in the future, will not be defined as evil races such as orcs. "

This is to fight for a gold medal.

Woking frowned: "What about the tribe? Will you come back?"

When Woking asked this question, for a moment, Thrall almost rushed out, trying to say, `` I will come back. '' But the Nagrand Orcs' opposition, the trouble from their compatriots ... the bitterness of the past came to Sal's heart.

When he thought of his outstanding contribution to the tribe for more than ten years, but was forced by his clan, Saar suddenly felt a little lonely. And the noble and great cause of ‘want to do something for the world of Azeroth’ is even more appealing to Sal.

Thrall finally replied: "I will seriously consider it. But it must be after the world has begun to perish."

This is not the answer Woking wants to hear, it is better than no answer.

Vol'jin turned and left, before he left, he waved his hand: "Well, until that day comes, the Dark Spear Troll will be patient."

The noble troll leader's back seemed to be a little more humped.

Thrall sighed. This time, he wanted to persuade Vol'jin to lead the Dark Spear Trolls to return to the Horde for the time being. Unfortunately, neither he nor Woking could convince the other.

With eyes full of destruction and barrenness, Thrall felt a sorrow.

Leaving the Echo Islands and coming to the land he named Durotar, Thrall finally took out a small crystal of arcane light from his pocket and squeezed it: "Duke, I'm fine. "

A second later, a blue-framed portal opened, and Thrall entered without hesitation.

The brief discomfort caused by the transmission passed quickly, and Thrall looked around. There is nothing in the huge hall, but everything is huge.

It's full of lava and dark stones, above which are Titan-like metal structures and decorations.

Because this is the obsidian dragon holy land in the northwest of Dragonbone Wilderness, which is the old nest of the black dragon family. Ten thousand years ago, this was where the black dragon hatched the young dragons. Unfortunately, as Nesario led the betrayal of the Black Dragons, there are only a hundred remaining half-dragons and dragons obedient to Onyxia.

The square is large and empty in the middle. A large round table is placed in the middle of the square. A man and a woman were chatting in the middle of the square and drinking lunch.

Thrall saw warm black tea cups and a plate of cookies on the table.

Duke, wearing a robe, and a princess-shaped black dragon in a dark red embroidered long dress, were sitting in a chair near the table.

At the arrival of Thrall, Duke nodded and smiled, "Thrall, would you like something to drink?"

Thrall noticed at this moment that there was a large set of tea set on the table, which was made exclusively in the size of an orc.

Thrall nodded, not sitting down, sitting securely.

The long life experience in human time gave Thrall more indifference, he has not experienced the life of Lord Lordaeron. But because of his quietness and taming, he was taken more than once as a slave gladiator champion into a noble ball or tea party.

Although drinking afternoon tea does not seem to match the rough-looking Thrall, there is a subtle sense of coordination here.

"Oh?" Onyxia shook her head in surprise.

Taking a sip of black tea, Thrall lowered the cup and turned the cup deftly with his fingertips. He was well aware that the initiative to talk was not on his side, so he took the initiative.

"Duke, what do you think of the current tribe?" I have known each other for more than ten years and have fought side by side many times. There is no brotherhood, at least a familiar old friend. Thrall knows how to deal with humans.

Duke knew that a lie was meaningless to a smart leader like Thrall, and he honestly said: "Dangerous, arrogant, and arrogant. The tribe led by Garrosh is like a gunpowder, and it will explode whenever there is a chance."

"A gunpowder ...? It's a figurative metaphor." Thrall smiled bitterly.

Gunpowder barrel, once it explodes, it must be dead. The problem is that it can also blow up nearby people. This is the typical harm to others.

Duke raised his hand and let his lips slip away, and it seemed a bit indifferent: "Fortunately, it will not blow through the deck of the Alliance battleship."

Thrall was more aware of the alliance's disgust, vigilance, but no fear. Once freed up, clean up the current tribe at any time.

Thrall sighed: "Do you hate orcs at Duke?"