Galadar, the atmosphere in the conference hall is still solemn.
Except for the first two sentences in the scene, Regen had been sitting quietly on the carpet and rarely spoke. Basically, Dranos was arguing with the other two elders. The focus of the incident gradually shifted to whether there was indeed a Dark Blood tribe.
Come up
Although the young orcs cited evidence of their own personal experiences, the elders still felt that it was not sufficient: after all, there have been no foreign races in the Nagrand grasslands for many years, and the so-called existence of the Darkblood tribe is only one-sided words of Denor, and the Broken Ones have always
They are so cunning and scheming, how could they know that this is not their own deception?
In fact, anyone with a discerning eye can see that the elders' reasons are extremely far-fetched. What they really can't trust is not Dranos, but the peaceful coexistence that Regan said: It should be noted that the Alliance and the Horde have been hostile for many years, even the orcs in the outside world.
They must have been educated in this kind of hatred. Now if they are asked to accept mediation from humans, they may not be able to adapt to it for a while.
After several observations, Regen roughly figured out the subtle factional relationship among the elders of the Mag'han clan: the one on Gaiaan's left was named Himmler, who once served as the warlord of the Warsong clan and was loyal to the Hellscream clan.
This guy is the one who is the most opposed to giving up the use of force. Any hope that he will change his position is tantamount to wishful thinking.
Another elder named Fatak is a branch of the Mag'han tribe. He basically holds a neutral to conservative attitude, and is not as hostile to the Alliance and humans as Hilem. However, among the three elders at the moment
One was firmly opposed, and the other was ambiguous, leaving this elder who was accustomed to following the crowd a little undecided.
Seeing this scene, Reagan already knew in his mind that the so-called wallflowers always fall in the direction of the wind. If they can get the support of a strong person who is against all opinions at this time, the militants such as Hellscream will not be able to defeat them.
What kind of flowers come
"Locke," the knight tilted his head slightly while drinking tea and whispered to the orc, "has the person you mentioned already received the news?"
Roxas stared straight ahead, nodded slightly and said: "Don't worry, everything has been taken care of. Based on the speed of the Wolf Cavalry, I estimate that we will reach Nagrand later today."
"Well, that's good." Regan put down the tea cup and wiped his lips with his hand. He couldn't help but slightly frowned at the two groups of people who were still arguing in the hall: "Keep arguing. I'll see if you can still dance when the chief comes."
So happy to lie on the ground?
——————————————————————“Ouch~”
A long wolf howl came from a distance, startling the Tabu sheep that were grazing and fleeing in all directions. The setting sun shone on the broad and thick shoulders of the tribal chief, making Sal's face look slightly tired.
A touch more perseverance and vicissitudes
"Finally...back"
The orc shaman closed his eyes and breathed in the familiar but unfamiliar sweet scent of grass. This smell seemed familiar to him only in his dreams.
The war twenty years ago not only cost countless human lives, but also destroyed the family of Frostwolf leader Durotan. He opposed joining the Burning Legion and was assassinated by an assassin sent by Gul'dan. His wife Draka
He was killed together with him, and the infant baby was abandoned in the icy and snowy Oakland Mountains until he was discovered by a human officer and brought back to the castle to be raised.
More than twenty years later, Sal, who grew up and became the chief of the tribe, finally returned here, to the hometown that his father had never forgotten. Although he had never seen the blue sky, even though he had never smelled the refreshing scent,
The grass smells fragrant, but Sal still feels a sense of belonging from the depths of his soul.
Yes, this is the habitat of the ancestors of the orcs in Nagrand, the birthplace of the orc tradition... and the spiritual home of all orcs. Wise men like Orgrim were born here, and warriors like Hellscream were also born.
A land and lake have long been deeply embedded in the blood of the orcs. It is no wonder that even though Thrall has no memory of Nagrand, he will feel an inexplicable sense of blood connection as soon as he sets foot on this land.
The orc shaman stood there and sighed for a long time. Suddenly he remembered that there were important things that needed to be resolved this time, so he got on the wolf again and headed in the direction of Galadar with all his subordinates.
"Crack!"
The elders' meeting had been held for nearly two hours, but in the end there was still no result, which made Dranos, who was thirsty and thirsty, even more impatient. He slammed the table angrily, almost knocking over the teacup, "Elder Hilam,
The facts have been laid before us, Tara is by no means an enemy we must face! But you blindly instigate the tribe to send troops, what is the reason for this!"
"Watch your words, Deno!" Orcs have always had bad tempers from childhood to old age, and Xilem, the former War Song Warlord, was no exception. Seeing that a junior in Dranos dared to brag about him, he stared at him.
His voice couldn't help but turn cold, "Even if your last name is the glorious Saurfang, you still have no right to show off in front of me!"
Dranos said angrily: "Even if my surname is not Saurfang, I will still scold you, you stubborn old man!"
"You little thief, how dare you..."
"Shut up!" Just when the two of them were about to perform a full-scale martial arts show, Grandma Gaia'an, who had been silent all this time, spoke up, "This is a meeting hall, not a martial arts arena! How do you two behave in front of outsiders?
"
Seeing his grandmother speak, Deno snorted and stopped talking, while Hilem whispered his apology before sitting down. At least this little episode was resolved.
"Dear guests, I just made everyone laugh," Gaia'an apologized to Regan, "I think there is some disagreement within the clan on vetoing the motion to use force. I would like to ask General Regan to give us a grace period of one or two days so that we can
Discuss the most appropriate response..."
Regen smiled slightly and thought that this old woman had really made a good calculation: a dragging trick was enough to silence Crimson Storm, and besides, he was responsible for others, so he couldn't wait indefinitely in Nagrand.
It was precisely because Gaiyaan had seen through this that he softly sent the alliance away.
"Then there is Ms. Laugayan," Regen nodded. "We will stay here for a while until Galadar makes corresponding decisions and measures."
"Ah, of course..." The old orc woman grinned silently: She knew that these pink guys would definitely stay under surveillance. In this case, just let them stay as long as they can! See what a professional army can do with you.
How long can you stay in the prairie without carrying a mission and without supplies?
"Please..." Before Gaia'an could finish his polite words, suddenly a look of disbelief flashed through his cloudy old eyes, and he looked at the exit of the village with some sluggishness.
"This is…"
Many people noticed the abnormality and walked out of the meeting hall one after another. They heard a series of bugles and familiar passwords coming from outside the village, which could not help but accelerate the fighting blood flowing in the orcs' bodies.
"My ancestor, is he really Durotan's son?"
"Nonsense! Didn't you see him holding the Doom Hammer?"
"I am insignificant. Sons of Durotan, we are all insignificant..."
The words of the Mag'har guards reached everyone's ears clearly. Except for Regan and Roxas who were mentally prepared, everyone else's eyes widened in shock: Thrall is actually the chief of the tribe.
Sal!
More than twenty years after the founding of Garadar, the supreme leader of the orcs from another world finally arrived at their home in Draenor!
"Grandma..." Thrall, who was wearing black plate armor, walked up to Gaia'an, knelt down on one knee respectfully, held the back of her withered bark-like hand and kissed her, "I'm back, grandma, your grandson."
My son is back..."
Gaia'an's lips moved, and she seemed to wake up from the sluggishness just now: "My grandson...my child, you are finally here. Grandma has been waiting for you for a long time...Quickly, come closer, my child,
Let grandma take a good look at what you look like..."
Sal Yiyan took another step forward and squatted down slightly so that Gaiaan could see his face clearly.
"Yes, yes..." The old orc woman caressed her grandson's face, and tears fell from her dry eye sockets, making everyone around her sigh inwardly. It turns out that even a grandmother who is strong can cry sometimes.
"Your eyes, nose, and lips...even every move is very much like your father...you have his broad shoulders and chest--ah, and your mother's sharp and determined eyes," Gaiaan said
It was urgent and fast, nothing like the old and comatose look it had just now.
"But grandma..."
"No, there is no doubt," Gaia'an seemed to have a premonition of what Thrall was going to say, "You are a descendant of Durotan, my grandson... You possess the undisputed Frostwolf bloodline before Draka joined your father in the expedition.
She told me that she was pregnant, but I didn't expect that you would be born under those circumstances... By the way, they are now..."
"They have gone to the ancestors..." Thrall's words made Gaia'an look dim. "My father and mother were killed shortly after I was born. I have never even seen what they looked like... I
I was raised as a slave, and my name... Sal means slave."
Grandma Gaiaan's old body suddenly shook, causing everyone around her to take a step back in disbelief. Sal also looked at his grandmother in surprise. He didn't expect that an old woman could be so powerful.
"Thal? No! My grandson! Your name shouldn't be this!" the old orc woman said sadly and angrily, "Your status as a slave is only in the past, and now you are the leader of the Frostwolf clan!
The last time I saw Durotan, he had already thought of your name... At that time... Oh, my ancestors, forgive me for being such a fragile old woman... He was so proud at that time, for his unborn child..."
Gaiaan wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes, and Thrall held her hand with some worry. The old orc woman sobbed for a while, gently broke away from her grandson's hand, stroked his forehead and said, "Listen, my child,
Your name is Go'el, son of Durotan - the true chieftain of the Frostwolf clan. And today, my grandson... you are the greatest joy in my heart."
———————————————————————————————— ps: Well, in order to repay the good brother Chu’s two hundred votes, it seems that tonight