Chapter 2 Chapter One

Even beasts are cold on nights like these, Durotan mused.He reached out to his wolf friend absently, scratching the white base of his sharp-toothed ear.The beast grunted and snuggled closer.The wolf and the orc chieftain stared simultaneously at the silent white snowflakes that fell outside Durotan's gnarly oval opening. Durotan, chieftain of the Frostwolf clan, once felt the kiss of warm weather.He had swung his battle-axe in the sun, squinting at the sunlight dancing on the metal and the dripping red human blood.He used to feel connected to all his people, not just his own.They stood shoulder to shoulder as a green torrent of death rolled over the hillside and engulfed humanity.They once feasted together before campfires, laughing low and rumbling, and told tales of blood and conquest to children drowsy by the embers, whose young minds were filled with images of carnage.

But now, a small group of orcs who make up the Frostwolf clan are scattered and exiled in the cold Alterac Mountains in another world.Their only friends are the huge white wolves. They were very different from the great black wolves that Durotan's people had ridden before, but a wolf was still a wolf, no matter the color of its fur.Their tenacity combined with the strength of the Drek'Thar eventually earned them the trust of the beasts.Now the orcs and wolves hunted together, keeping each other warm through the long snowy nights. A slight nasal sound from the depths of the cave made Durotan turn his head.His resolute face, permanently taut from years of rage and worry, softened with that voice.His youngest son, who won't have a name until the cycle's prescribed name day, cries as he nurses.

Leaving his sharp teeth alone to continue watching Luoxue, Durotan stood up and walked to the inner part of the cave with difficulty.Draka, who bared one breast for the child to suckle, had just removed the baby, which was why the child was crying.Draka reached out with his forefinger, dug his black, sharpened nail deep into the nipple, and put the child's head back on his chest.There was not a hint of pain in her beautiful, strong face.Now, when a child nurses, he receives not only nourishing breast milk, but also the mother's blood.This is the best food for the thriving little warrior, the son of Durotan and the future chieftain of the Frostwolf clan.

Durotan's heart was filled with love for his wife and son, a warrior as brave and cunning as he was, and they had a lovely, perfect son. Then, thinking of what he had to do, Durotan's heart sank, as if something had weighed heavily on his shoulders.He sat down and sighed heavily. Draka looked up at him, her brown eyes narrowed.She knows him too well.He didn't want to tell her about the sudden decision, although he knew it was right in his heart, he must not say it. "We have a child now," said Durotan, his deep voice booming in his broad chest. "Yes." Draka replied proudly. "A healthy, strong son who will lead the Frostwolf clan after his father's honorable death in battle, many years to come," she added.

"I am responsible for his future," Durotan continued. Draka watched him intently.He felt that she was very beautiful now, and tried hard to imprint her appearance in his heart.The light of the fire danced on her green skin, cast a chiseled relief on her muscular muscles, and made her fangs flicker slightly.She didn't interrupt, but waited for him to continue. "If I hadn't spoken against Gul'dan, our children would have had more playmates to grow up with," Durotan continued. "If I hadn't spoken against Gul'dan, we could still be honored members of the Horde."

Draka hissed, grinning her strong jaw and opening her teeth in displeasure with her lover. "You are no longer the lover I was with," she growled.Startled, the baby moves away from the full breast and looks up into the mother's face.Milk mixed with blood dripped from his protruding chin. "Drotan of the Frostwolf Clan will not stand by and cowardly allow our brethren to be led to their deaths like sheep raised by men. You must speak out, my love, from what you know of the truth. You may do nothing, Remain your chief." Durotan nodded, acknowledging that she was telling the truth. "You know, Gul'dan has no love for our people, he has only one way to increase his power..."

He fell silent, remembering the shock, fear, and anger that had swept over him when he learned of the Shadow Council and Gul'dan's treachery.He had tried to convince others that danger lay ahead for all.They were being used like pawns to destroy the Denino, a race Durotan was beginning to think did not even need to be exterminated.And then through the Dark Portal again to an innocent world - not by the decision of the Orcs, no, but by the Shadow Council.Everything is for Gul'dan, everything is for the power of Gul'dan alone.How many orcs fell, fighting for those hollow things?

He searches for the right words to express his decision to his lover. "I said it, and then we were exiled, as were all the people who followed me. It was a huge shame." "Only Gul'dan is disgraced," Draka said suddenly.The baby in my arms survived the brief shock and started to nurse again. "Your people are alive and free, Durotan. This is a desolate place, but we have found the Frostwolves to be our allies. We have plenty of fresh meat, even in harsh winters. We keep old traditions alive." , as much as we can, those campfire stories are part of the legacy our children pass on."

"That is what they deserve," Durotan said.He pointed his finger with sharp nails at his nursing son. "He deserves more. Our still bewitched brothers deserve more. I'm giving it all to them." He stood up and straightened his stalwart body.His gigantic figure falls over his wife and children.Her frustrated expression told Durotan that Draka knew what he was going to say before he spoke, but the words had to be said.Those words were so firm and sincere that they became an unbreakable vow. "There are those who follow me, though they are suspected. I will go back and find the few chieftains. I will convince them that my story is true and they will regroup their people. We will no longer be Gul'dan's slaves , fell so easily, without thinking that our deaths on the battlefield would serve them only. I swear to do this, I, Durotan, Chieftain of the Frostwolf Clan."

He turned his head, opened his toothy mouth unbelievably wide, frowned and lowered his eyes, and let out a loud, deep, and furious roar.The baby began to howl, and even Draka was frightened.It was the roar of the oath, and Durotan knew that everyone in his clan heard it tonight, though the sound was muffled by the thick snow.Soon they would gather in droves around his cavern, demanding to know the content of that roaring oath, and roaring their own. "You should not go alone, my love," Draka said, her gentle voice a far cry from Durotan's deafening sworn roar. "We're going with you."

"I forbid." Before Durotan could react, Draka jumped up explosively, the sudden action startled Durotan.The crying baby tumbled from her lap and she clenched her fists and raised it, flailing violently.In the blink of an eye, Durotan felt only the beating of his own heart, the pain piercing his body, and the blood dripping from his face.Draka leaped the entire length of the cave, slashing his nails across his face. "I am Draka, daughter of Kelka, son of Lakish. No one can forbid me to follow my love, not even Durotan himself! I walk with you, I am with you, and I will sacrifice my life if need be .Smack!" She slapped him. As Durotan wiped the mixture of spittle and blood from his face, his heart was filled with love for the woman.It was right that he chose her to be his lover and the mother of his son.Throughout the history of the orcs, has there been a luckier man?He doesn't think so. Despite the fact that if Gul'dan got word, Orgrim?Doomhammer and his clan would be exiled, but the great warchief welcomed Durotan and his family to his camp.Only, he looked at the wolf suspiciously, and the wolf returned him the same courtesy.There were no other orcs in Doomhammer's crude tent, where Durotan, Draka, and their as-yet-unnamed child were housed. The night was a bit chilly for Doomhammer, and he watched his honored guest take off almost all his clothes and mutter about the heat with a strange, amused look.The Frostwolf, he mused, must not be used to such "warm" weather. Outside, his bodyguard has been patrolling.With the tent curtains that served as doors still open, Doomhammer watched as they sat huddled around the campfire, reaching out huge hands to the leaping flames.The night was dark save for the faint glow of the stars.Durotan picked an appropriate evening for his secret visit.This small gathering of men, women, and children was unlikely to be seen and identified in their true identities. "I am sorry to risk visiting you and your clan," Durotan said first. Doomhammer brushed aside such comments. "If death is near, he will come to us with respect." He invited them to sit down, and offered his old friend a piece of kidney meat that had just been slaughtered and was still dripping with both hands.The meat was still warm, and Durotan nodded his thanks, biting into the juicy flesh and tearing off a large chunk.Draka followed suit, then held out his bloodstained finger to the child.The child sucked the sweet liquid hungrily. "A healthy, strong boy," Doomhammer said. Durotan nodded. "He would be a suitable leader for our clan. But we are not here to make you praise my son." "Years ago, you meant something like that," Doomhammer said. "I wish to protect my clan, and I am not sure if my suspicions are correct until Gul'dan forces us into exile," Durotan replied. "His swift punishment makes it clear that what I know is true. Listen, my old friend, and then you must judge for yourself." Gently, without overhearing the guards sitting by the fire a few yards away, Durotan began to tell.He told Doomhammer everything he knew - the pact with the demon lord, the filthy origins of Gul'dan's power, the betrayal of the clans under the Shadow Council, the final, disgraceful doom of the orcs, they Will be thrown as bait to the demon army.Doomhammer listened, trying to keep his broad face impassive.But in his massive chest his heart beat violently as his famous hammer struck human flesh. Are these real?It's almost like a story of a fool who's got his brains screwed up by the war.Demons, dark pacts, but this is what Durotan said.Durotan, one of the wisest, bravest and most honorable chieftains.From anyone else's mouth, Doomhammer would judge it as lies and gibberish.But Durotan was exiled for what he said so they could believe it.Doomhammer has trusted other chieftains with his life many times before. There was only one conclusion, and what Durotan had told him was the truth.When his old friend finished speaking, Doomhammer took another bite of the meat, chewing slowly, his racing mind trying to make sense of what he had just heard.Finally, he swallowed and said. "I believe in you, old friend. I promise you that I will not tolerate Gul'dan's plans for our people. We will stand with you against the darkness." Deeply moved, Durotan held out his hand, and Doomhammer took it firmly. "You cannot stay in this camp for long, though it would be my honor if you stayed," Doomhammer said, standing up. "One of my personal guards will accompany you to a safe place. There is a creek near here, and there is plenty of game in the forest at this time of year, so you won't go hungry. I will do what I can for you When the time is right, we will fight side by side to get rid of the traitor Gul'dan." The guard led them out of the camp and into the surrounding forest for miles, without speaking.There was no doubt that the clearing to which he led them was secluded and full of verdant vegetation.Durotan could hear the rushing water, and he turned to Draka. "I know my old friends can be trusted," he said. "Soon..." Durotan seemed to freeze.He had just heard other sounds besides the splash of water in a nearby creek.It was the crackling of thin branches under heavy feet...   He growled a battle roar and reached for his battle-axe.The assassin loomed over his head almost before he could grasp the handle of the axe.Durotan vaguely heard Draka's shrill roar, but was unable to rescue her immediately.Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sharptooth lunge at an intruder, knocking him to the ground. They came without a sound, with no regard for the most important aspect of orcish glory - the dignity of battle.These are the assassins, the lowest of the lowliest, the maggots of the feet.In addition to their ubiquity, the maggots' knives suggested they were up to something, though their mouths remained tightly shut in eerie silence. A sharp ax dug deep into Durotan's left thigh, and he fell.Warm blood gushed down his legs as he curled up and reached out in a desperate attempt to strangle the would-be murderer.He stared at that horrifying face, without the anger that an upright and simple orc should have, and he didn't even have any expression at all.The assassin raised the ax again, and with the last of his strength, Durotan grabbed the enemy's throat tightly.Now that the worm finally had some expression, he dropped the ax and groped hard to free Durotan's thick, powerful fingers from his neck. There was a short, high-pitched wail, and then silence.The tooth fell, and Durotan knew it without looking.He also heard his lover curse viciously at the orc, and he knew that the assassin would kill her.Then a voice ripped through the air and sent a shudder of fear through Durotan: the terrified cry of his son. They can't kill my son!The thought gave new strength to Durotan, and he roared, even as lifeblood drained from the great arteries in his legs.He bravely rolled over and pressed his opponent under his huge body with all his strength. The assassin squirmed in horror.Durotan squeezed hard with both hands, and heard a delightful snap of neck bones under his palms. "No!" The voice came from the orc guard who had betrayed them, shrill, human-like fear. "No, I'm your man, they're the target—" Durotan looked up just in time to see a tall assassin wielding a blade almost larger than his body in a smooth, precise arc.Doomhammer's bodyguard didn't stand a chance, the blade sliced ​​clearly across the traitor's neck, and Durotan could still see the horror on the guard's face as the bloody head slipped off his body.Durotan rose to protect his lover, but it was too late.Durotan howled, his heart ached, as he saw Draka's stiff, almost-hewn body lying in a pool of blood in the woodland.Draka's killer stepped back from her body to turn his attention to Durotan. In a fair duel, Durotan could have dealt with any of the three of them.And now he's badly wounded, unarmed, and he knows he's dying.Durotan made no attempt to defend himself, but moved to his son's small parcel out of deep instinct. Durotan stared blankly at the blood gushing from his shoulder.He began to become dull from the blood loss, and before he could react, his hands twitched and collapsed on the ground.Those nasty maggots made it hard for him to hold his son. His injured leg could no longer support him, and Durotan stepped forward.His face was only a few feet away from his son's.Before the confused and terrified expression on the baby's face, his brave warrior's heart was broken. "Take away... this child." He gasped, surprised that he could still speak. The assassin bent down, allowing Durotan to look at him.He looked into Durotan's eyes.For a moment, Durotan feared that he would impale the baby's body in front of his father's eyes. "We will leave this child to the beasts of the forest," growled the assassin. "Maybe you'll see them tear him to pieces." Then they left, as silently as they had come.Durotan blinked, dazed and disoriented as the blood flowed from his body like a river.He tried to move, but couldn't.He could only look at his son with frustrated eyes, his small chest was heaving with the cries, and his small fists were clenched and swinging wildly in the air. Draka...my beloved...my little son...sorry I brought us to this place... The edges of Durotan's vision began to gray, and the image of his son began to fade.For the dying Durotan, chieftain of the Frostwolf clan, the only consolation was that he would die before witnessing the horrific sight of his son being eaten alive by the ravenous beasts of the forest. "In the name of the Holy Light, it's too loud!" said 22-year-old Tamis.Foxton wrinkled his nose at the noise that had just echoed through the forest. "Better go back, Lieutenant. Whatever it is, the noise will scare away any prey worth following." Edras.Lieutenant Blackmoore gave his personal assistant a lazy grin. "Have you learned anything I tried to teach you, Tammis?" he said lazily. "Bringing dinner back is as important as getting out of this goddamn forest. Whatever it is, let it scream if it wants to." He reached into the saddlebag on his back and pulled out a bottle, which felt cool and smooth in his hands. "A hunting goblet, sir?" Tamis, no matter what Blackmoore said, had already trained well.He took the tap-shaped drinking cup hanging from the saddle and handed it over.Hunting glasses are specially prepared for such situations where there is no place to sit.Blackmoore refused, waving his assistant away. "It's too troublesome." He pulled out the cork with his teeth, held it in his hand, and lifted the mouth of the bottle to his lips. Ah, this stuff is delicious.A burning sensation traveled down his throat and into his gut.Blackmoore wiped his mouth, capped the bottle, and put it back in the saddlebag.He deliberately ignored Tamis, who was watching from the side, and quickly turned away without caring.Why should an assistant care how much his master drank? Edras.Blackmoore's meteoric rise to the ranks was due to his almost unbelievable ability to carve small gaps in orc formations on the battlefield.His superiors attribute it to skill and courage.Blackmoore should have told them that his courage was of the liquid type, but he didn't think that was important. His reputation also did not hinder his popularity with women, nor did it affect his handsome and flashy appearance.Tall and handsome, with long black shawl hair, metallic blue eyes, and a neatly trimmed beard, he is a perfect heroic soldier. It didn't matter to him if some women left his bed a little sadly but sensibly, with a bruise or two.There are always more who will throw their arms around. The harsh voice was beginning to annoy him. "It can't get away," growled Blackmoore. "Probably a wounded beast, sir, unable to crawl away," said Tammis. "Let us find it, then, and end our misfortune," Blackmoore replied.He kicked Night Song hard, and a round animal as black as its name, galloped in the direction of the damned sound. Yege suddenly slammed on the brakes, causing an excellent rider like Blackmoore to almost fall off the horse's head.He swore and slapped the beast's neck, and fell quickly silent when he saw something stop Nightsong. "Light be with you," said Tammis, riding to Blackmoore on his gray pony. "It's a mess in here." Three orcs and a huge white wolf lay sprawled across the woodland.Blackmore deduced that they had just died not long ago, and although the blood had solidified, the corpses had not emitted a rotten smell.Two men, one woman, who cares whether the wolf is male or female.Damn orcs, it would save a lot of trouble for a guy like Blackmoore if they were killing each other too often. Something was moving, and Blackmoore realized it was the thing that had been screaming violently.It was the ugliest thing he had ever seen...an orc baby, swaddled next to a corpse.While watching, he got off his horse and walked forward. "Beware, sir!" cried Tammis, "it may bite!" "I've never seen a cub before," Blackmore said.He nudged it with his toes, and the little thing rolled out of the blue and white package, its ugly green face twisted even more, and it kept wailing. Although the bottle of mead had made him a little tipsy, and he wanted another bottle, Blackmoore's brain was still very bright.Now, an idea sprouted in his mind.Blackmoore ignored Tamis' nagging warning, bent down, picked up the little monster, and wrapped him in the blue and white cloth.The little thing stopped crying immediately, and stared firmly into his eyes with blue-gray eyes. "Interesting," Blackmore said. "Their babies are just like humans. Their eyes are blue when they are young." After a while, these eyes will turn black or red, full of greed, and stare at humans dangerously and hatefully. unless…… For many years, Blackmoore had done more with less to get the same job as someone of similar origin and qualifications to him.He lives in the shadow of his father's ignominious betrayal, doing everything in his power to gain power and power.He is still suspected by many people; people around him always call him "traitor" in private, thinking he can't hear.But now, perhaps one day, he will never hear those heart-wrenching comments again. "Tamis," he said thoughtfully, looking into the incongruous, gentle blue eyes of the orc baby, "do you think you will be honored to serve a great man?" "Of course, sir," Tamis replied predictably. "May I ask, is this important now?" Blackmoore glanced at the servant on the horse and grinned. "Because what Lieutenant Edras? Lieutenant Blackmoore is holding in his hands now can make him famous, wealthy, outstanding, and extremely powerful."