The orc Calus stood in the queue with a shield in one hand and a battle axe in the other.
It was his first battle since joining the Fireblade Clan, and he couldn't wait to put on a good show.
He looked at the minotaurs who were still faltering at the entrance to the open field, and spat heavily into the ground.
"The natives of this world are all cowards who have no seeds, and they don't even have the courage to stand up and face challenges."
He thought mockingly to the bottom of his heart.
He had never considered these stupid and benzene minotaurs his allies, in fact, he looked down on anyone but the orcs.
Originally an orc veteran from the Taunting Skull Clan, Calus had fought in two orc wars, but now that the small clan had been wiped out, only a few remnants like him remained.
If Thrall hadn't rescued him, he would still be in a human prisoner of war camp.
However, in Calus's heart, although Thrall has a life-saving grace for him, it does not mean that he must support this young shaman, because Thrall's attitude towards humans is too gentle, and for a pure orc, this kid is a little too mother-in-law, and has completely forgotten their original purpose of coming to Azeroth - orcs came to this world to conquer this place and become the master here, and those fragile natives are only worthy of being slaves of orcs.
But to his annoyance, Thrall had built the city in this barren land where rabbits don't poop in order to avoid humans, and he felt that this hairy boy was literally in the water.
He was fond of the days of revelry after the capture of Stormwind, where they had won victory after victory, bathed in the blood and wails of the enemy.
Indulge in the looting of the rich human realm—human delicacies, dwarven spirits, and smooth-skinned women.
As soon as he thought of this, he felt as if the blood was boiling all over his body.
It was as if the whole person was at least ten years younger.
"I want to go back to that life, as long as I have the strength.
We'll get everything we want.
He said in his heart that if it weren't for the stupid chieftains who only knew how to fight in the nest, the orcs would never have been defeated so quickly, and maybe they would have taken over all of Azeroth by now.
He hated them.
This was the reason why he had joined the Fireblade Clan, as Chief Nirru had promised to give him some demonic blood after this battle, and he couldn't help but feel a pang in his heart at the thought of the magical liquid that would make him stronger and more powerful.
"Will it degrade people?
Fool me, I just need strength!
He muttered to himself again.
As the years passed, his body became more and more aging.
He missed the pleasure of the power flowing through his body more and more, as an orc veteran who had drunk demonic blood twice in Shadowmoon Valley and Ashenvale, he knew and enjoyed that feeling better than anyone else, and his skin was darker green than anyone else, the color of Manolos' blood.
He shook the fluttering shield in his hand, and to be honest, he was very dissatisfied with the oak plank, you know, the orcs were born to attack.
They never knew what it meant to defend.
He glared back with disdain at the lead officer who had given him the plank, the young orc who had not grown all his hair was born after the orc war, and he had no idea that the axe was the most suitable weapon for the orcs.
Thinking of this, he couldn't help but glance at the tomahawk in his other hand.
This axe was not just issued, but the one that followed him all the way from his hometown, and when it was forged, it was mixed with a piece of magic iron that was only the size of a grain of rice.
But that's enough – even after decades of use, the axe is still as sharp as ever.
"Old man.
You're going to drink blood this time!
He comforted his weapon in his heart, because he knew it.
This axe has been around for too long.
At that moment, however, he felt his shield tremble, as if it had been struck by something.
Then he heard a loud voice, and with some confusion he raised his shield to his eyes—an otherwise easy action that was now as difficult as lifting an entire mountain—and looked closely, and he noticed a large transparent hole in the middle of the shield.
"What's going on?
I remember it as a perfect shield, at least when I received it.
He thought to himself, a little confused.
At that moment, he felt that something liquid was running down his pants.
"Damn, am I so old that I can't even control my own pee?"
Calus thought sadly.
He lowered his head and looked into his waist, and he was surprised to see a large fist-sized hole appear in his abdomen, and blood and internal organs were flowing out of this large hole, through this almost transparent hole, and he even saw his own spine, "What the hell is going on?"
It was his last word left in this world.
Immediately afterward, he fell headlong to the ground, ending his tyrannical life. …… Diego crawled at the side of the Kodomon, firing with a death gaze.
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This superweapon built to slay dragons is a powerful one, and the thick oak shield in the orc's hand is no stronger than a piece of paper for the death gaze.
Diego even felt like the orcs lining up in a neat queue was as easy as lining up to be shot.
In order to spread their forces, the orcs set up their positions in the widest part of the river valley, which was so flat that there was no hiding place, and the only place to hide was the trench in front of the queue filled with sharp stakes, but the orcs would rather be killed by muskets than jump in and have trouble with their own chrysanthemums.
"Damn, they actually have artillery!"
Someone wailed in horror.
"Hell, where's our long-range firepower?"
Some looked back at the place where the Smasher was placed.
"Catapult, fire quickly, we need support!"
The orc queue collapsed almost instantly, and everyone was screaming and screaming.
These orc soldiers secretly drawn from Thrall's army were not formed into a certain team, and there was no tacit understanding and organization at all.
"They haven't come out of those narrow places yet, and the stone bullets will be blocked by the stone eaves above their heads!"
The sergeant operating the trebuchet explained.
"I don't care, even if you make some movement and divert their attention, if you don't do something, we're going to die!"
The stone guard 1 who led the team grabbed the sergeant by the collar and rested the blade on his neck, threatening him hysterically.
"Well, as you wish!"
The sergeant reluctantly agreed.
As the flag in his hand waved, a stone projectile the size of a human head resting on the trebuchet's spoon rose into the air and flew towards the minotaur.
Looking at these flying stone bullets, the minotaur couldn't help but hold his breath, and now it depends on whether the rocks above his head can withstand it.
Even Diego couldn't help but stop firing, raising his head and waiting for the impending impact.
The valley was finally quiet.
Taking advantage of this opportunity, the orc officer commanded the soldiers to spread their shields on the stakes, jumped over the trench and rushed towards this side.
Above the sky, the harpy that had been hovering for a long time swooped down towards the ground like a vulture that had seen carrion. …… Note 1: The 6th rank of the Horde, roughly equivalent to the rank of Knight of the Alliance.
(To be continued.) )