Stormwind Wizard God-Chapter 179: New Warchief

Just when Duke arrived in Southshore and was about to visit the Barov family, a huge event happened in the Horde.

Judgment!

"traitor!-

"Orgrim - you are a disgrace to the orcs !"

The noisy sound filled the entire tribal camp.

The eyes of every tribal warrior were bloodshot due to anger, and their necks seemed to be stuffed with two thick and red guns. They opened their mouths full of fangs and roared at the top of their lungs.

In the center of the entire venue, kneeling on both knees was Orgrim - the former deputy of the Warchief, now a traitor in the eyes of all the orcs.

The horn that summoned all the chiefs was still sounding. The solemn horn sound seemed to be wailing for the accidental death of the Warchief, and it also seemed to be awakening the anger in the hearts of the orcs.

Countless stones of all sizes were thrown at Orgrim who was kneeling on the ground.

These stones, the largest of which were the size of a human fist, would not cause fatal injuries to Orgrim's face, but would hurt.

However, the physical pain still cannot surpass the pain in my heart.

It was the heartache of seeing a hundred thousand elite soldiers burned to death, it was the sorrow for the unknown fate of the orcs, it was the grief of knowing that once Gul'dan returned, he would lead the orcs to destruction.

The scene of that day is still replaying in Orgrim's spiritual world.

The voice and smile of my good friend Durotan still echoed in my mind:

That day, Durotan came.

He told Doomhammer everything he knew - the pact with the demon lord, the foul nature of Gul'dan's power, the clan's betrayal at the hands of the Shadow Council.

The final, ignominious end awaiting the orcs is that they will be used as bait to the demons of the Burning Legion.

Orgrim listened, trying to keep his broad face impassive, his presence and bearing befitting a lieutenant of the warchief.

Yet within his thick chest, his heart beat as violently as his famous Hammer of Destruction pounding upon human flesh.

Are these true?

This is simply a story made up by an idiot who passed through the Dark Portal and had his brain messed up by the unknown energy in the void.

Demon? Dark Contract?

What a joke!

But, that's what Durotan said.

Durotan is not only one of the wisest, bravest and most honorable chieftains in the Horde, but also an old friend whom Orgrim has trusted with his life more than once, and he has repaid Orgrim's trust more than once with his greatness, courage and integrity.

If these words were spoken by any other orc, Orgrim would definitely teach him a lesson. If the person who said this was Durotan, then Orgrim's answer would be - believable!

Moreover, in the following time, Durotan paid the price of his integrity and loyalty to the Horde with his life. He and his wife Draka were assassinated by the Shadow Council!

Whenever he recalled this scene, Orgrim's hands, which were always so calm, could not help but tremble.

Orgrim couldn't help but ask himself in his heart: "Am I going to die? Am I going to die so miserably as a traitor? No - I still have a lot of things to do! If I die like this, then there will be no one to control Gul'dan. This true traitor of the orcs will lead the entire tribe into the abyss of death and shamelessly sell the souls of all the orcs to the devil!"

Thinking of this, Orgrim suddenly let out an earth-shaking roar.

"I—am—not—a—traitor—"

Orgrim's voice was so loud, like thunder, that it drowned out the noise of the thousands of orcs present. Every orc's face suddenly froze, and their roars were suppressed in their throats and could not be uttered.

"If you are not a traitor, then who is the traitor?" A deep voice sounded, but the voice was inhuman and cold, as if it implied the owner's mood swings.

Kilrogg Deadeye, Chieftain of the Bleeding Hollow Clan, had to temporarily hand over the army to his deputy and rush back with his own guards because of the accidental death of the Warchief.

Today, when the Blackrock Clan suffered a heavy blow, the Bleeding Hollow Clan's voice has undoubtedly increased greatly. Among the chiefs of dozens of clans present, his authority can be ranked in the top three.

Orgrim stood up and looked fearlessly into Kilrogg's remaining eye.

For a moment, Orgrim was almost ready to say, "Gul'dan is a traitor." But at this moment, Duke's face with a mysterious smile broke into Orgrim's mind.

Edmund Duke - the most powerful wizard and the most cunning wise man on the human side, was the one who dominated everything, put 100,000 orcs to death, and killed the Warchief Blackhand.

Without him, the orcs might have put in some effort, but there would never have been such a tragic victory.

Orgrim also has a clearer understanding: the only one who can deal with the existence of the mysterious realm is Gul'dan, who is also a mystic!

Neither he nor other chiefs of the Horde could do anything to Duke.

Thinking of this, Orgrim swallowed his words and burst into laughter.

"Hahahaha! Hahaha! Kilrogg, you make me laugh! Why do you think I'm a traitor who killed 100,000 of my compatriots for humans? Why would you rather believe the lies of humans than the loyalty of an orc? Why do you want to believe a despicable wizard who repeatedly sets fire to us orcs?"

Orgrim's rebuttal stunned all the chiefs and thousands of leaders, big and small, around him.

Orgrim pointed out that Duke was the arsonist, and he was absolutely right.

Grom Hellscream strode forward. "How do you explain the fact that more than one orc alive nearby testified that the warchief called you a traitor before his death? And why did your people attack the warchief's guards?"

"Don't you think that this scene of suddenly going crazy and attacking one's own people is very familiar?"

It has to be said that Orgrim also has the talent to be an actor.

Yes, this scene is really familiar. It is the scene where the orc warlock uses fear on human soldiers.

"You said Gul'dan betrayed!?" Grom frowned.

"I never said that. But you may have discovered that human tactics and equipment have been improving. So it's not impossible for them to gain the power of warlocks!"

The orc chieftains fell into deep thought.

At this time, Kilrogg Deadeye stood in front of Orgrim again: "My 'Deadeye' told me that you should not die here as a traitor. I also know that you are one of the wisest warriors among the orcs, and you also have the ambition to get involved in the position of the chieftain. I can give you a chance to prove yourself, as long as you join 'Bagrash'!"

Orgrim's heart beat violently, almost jumping out of his chest.

Even Duke didn't know that because he had tricked Orgrim so hard, he caused Orgrim to initiate a ritual that had never appeared in any "history" - Bagrash.

This is a ceremony to prove the honor of an orc suspected of being a traitor.

The ritual was very simple, violent and bloody.

That is, in the presence of at least 100 orc warriors, seven recognized warriors will stab seven daggers into the bodies of the participants of the ceremony. The daggers cannot cause fatal injuries, break bones, or injure internal organs.

The participants would then fight a life-and-death duel with a recognized warrior, usually a chieftain, with seven daggers stuck in their bodies.

Only if a participant wins the duel will he be considered cleared of suspicion and his reputation restored.

No one knows why Kilrogg proposed that Orgrim join Bagrash. If one must give Kilrogg a reason, it is his "dead eye" that can no longer see.

Kilrogg was born into the Bleeding Hollow clan of Draenor. When his people were about to be exterminated by the arakkoa, Kilrogg refused to give in. Under the arrangement of his injured father, he followed the ancient tradition of the clan: he found the hidden chamber named after his clan and performed a terrible ritual to sacrifice his left eye in exchange for seeing the future destiny.

During the ritual, Kilrogg saw that his own death was far in the future, so he knew he would survive it. Inspired by fate, he seized control of his clan and led the Bleeding Hollow to crush the arakkoa threat, and then won countless battles.

In the following years, he killed any dissidents, even his closest relatives could not escape the death penalty, and he always hoped that his fate would come to him step by step.

Although orcs are brutal, most of them are superstitious. In the absence of shamans in the tribal camp at this moment, Kilrogg's "Dead Eye" becomes quite convincing.

Without any hesitation, warriors of high status and position, such as Grom Hellscream and Samuro, all agreed to Kilrogg's request.

"Orgrim Doomhammer! Are you going to accept Baggrass to prove your innocence?" Kilrogg's voice was cold and carried a certain fierce sense of oppression. It was the terrifying aura that only a warrior who had walked out of a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood could have.

He was old, but no one could deny that he was still one of the strongest warriors in the Horde.

"I accept!" Orgrim stood in the doubtful gazes of countless orcs: "Not only do I accept it, I also request that when I accept Bagrash, I also want to participate in Mak'gora at the same time!"

"Hiss——" Countless orcs gasped in a cold breath.

This means that Orgrim has to accept challenges from at least seven chieftain-level warriors at once while being stabbed seven times, and he can only stop when no one challenges him anymore.

Of course, if Orgrim succeeds, he will be the second chieftain of the entire Horde after Blackhand!

There was unconcealable surprise on every orc's broad face.

Either Orgrim is the most ridiculous madman, or he will become the most powerful warrior in the history of the Horde, no doubt about it!

"Come!" Orgrim suddenly hammered his chest, making a loud bang!

Kilrogg did not speak, but pulled out a long curved bone blade with his backhand. This bone dagger was at least thirty centimeters long. With a flash of white light, the entire dagger had been inserted diagonally above the left clavicle, passed through Orgrim's muscles as thick as a city wall, and came out from above the left shoulder blade.

The blood splattered, it was shocking!

"Hu——" Orgrim didn't even groan in pain, he just clenched his fists.

Grom Hellscream stepped forward, expressionless, and stabbed Orgrim's right arm with a dagger, only avoiding the tendons and bones.

"Oh..." Orgrim groaned.

Samuro, the swordmaster of the Burning Blade clan, followed behind and stabbed Orgrim's right thigh with a dagger.

Then the fourth, fifth...seventh warrior went up.

Each one left a dagger on Orgrim's body.

At this moment, Orgrim had become a hedgehog, a hedgehog covered in blood.

"Who!? Who is willing to use the life of Orgrim Doomhammer to prove his bravery? Who is willing to obtain this Doomhammer in an upright manner!?"

Orgrim's roar was like a loud bell, echoing throughout the area.

Not many orcs would be willing to kill an orc who might be dishonorable unless they could gain real practical benefits from him, which happened to be what Orgrim had.

Not many orcs can resist the temptation of Doomhammer! Especially after Orgrim killed no less than 500 warriors of various races with it.

As the commander of the legions of ogres, giant lizards, earth dragons, and humans, Orgrim indirectly proved the power of this hammer with his brilliant battle record.

Suddenly, a flag was thrown into the middle of the field.

"I, Galar of the Shattered Sands, will fight you on the risk of my honor!"

Seeing this opponent who was more than a head taller than him, Orgrim was a little disappointed. He was the chief of a small clan with only a few hundred people, but as a suspected traitor, he really couldn't ask for more.

In the sky, cirrus clouds are surging.

On the earth, the horn sounded long.

Whether it is Mak'gora or Bagrash, nothing can attract the orcs' attention better than the most orcish, bloodiest and most passionate duel.

Only those who dare to face life and death will be recognized by the martial orcs. Only this most primitive and unpretentious fight can truly clear Orgrim's suspicion.

"Come!" Orgrim shouted, and the little chief Gala rushed over.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!" The solid ground was filled with the sound of Gala's heavy footsteps.

The momentum of Gala's charge gave people the illusion that a mountain was collapsing.

"Go to hell--" Galar bared his teeth and swung out with a huge machete.

That was enough power to cut Orgrim in two. But Orgrim's sharp eyes flashed with disappointment again.

weak!

Too weak!

Whether it was strength, speed, or skill, Orgrim was extremely disappointed.

For some reason, he thought of the human Anduin Lothar who killed Blackhand that day. Although he was at a disadvantage in terms of speed and strength, Lothar used his perfect force-relieving skills and wonderful footwork to fight the warchief on equal terms.

Looking at such an opponent, Orgrim was unwilling to wait even for one more second.

To outsiders, it looked like he had dropped the heavy Hammer of Destruction. Only those who knew the matter could see that he didn't take Galar seriously at all.

Just as the sword was about to fall, Orgrim suddenly exerted force with his intact left leg, rushed into Galar's arms, and punched the enemy's knife-holding wrist just right. The next second, he suddenly clapped his hands.

Galar's head was smashed in the palm of his hand. It was like a watermelon smashed by a hammer...

Orgrim raised his head and shouted, "Next!"

With his huge hands stained with blood and colorful brain matter, Orgrim displayed the most primitive and brutal violence, which reminded the orcs of how their ancestors, without weapons, used their strong bodies, fists, teeth, and arms to fight wild beasts and struggle to survive in the desolate wilderness.

Orgrim's most direct attack ignited the passion in every orc's heart.

"Ooooooh!"

"Orgrim! Orgrim!"

Just a few minutes ago, these orcs were still angrily insulting Orgrim, but a few minutes later, Orgrim, who showed his bravery and majesty, immediately became the brightest star of the entire tribe.

Kilrogg*Deadeye opened his cloudy right eye and said slowly: "Orgrim*Doomhammer, you have cleared your suspicion and restored your reputation! Now, if you want to withdraw from Mak'gora, it's not too late!"

Orgrim answered with his actions, taking bloody steps and pulling down a flag from a tent on the edge of the field.

That was the flag of Doomhammer, the leader of the Blackrock clan.

With a flick of his hand, the battle flag with a red background and black patterns fell to the center of the venue.

"I - Orgrim Doomhammer! I start Mak'gora here and challenge the position of Warchief! I will accept the challenge of at least six warriors! Until I ascend to the position of Warchief, or - die!"

Despite being stabbed multiple times, and despite each wound still bleeding as Orgrim moved, his soul-stirring roar still echoed throughout the camp.

"Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho!" This was the rhythmic cheering of the orcs. Nothing could make their blood boil more than a brave warrior fighting in the bloody battle for the position of the chieftain.

No matter how much they deny it, it is an indisputable fact that the Horde has just won a tragic victory.

The weak humans are far more cunning than the orcs imagined. The entire tribe is in urgent need of a true king who can lead the Horde to conquer the planet!

The orcs shouted and exclaimed loudly, holding high the crude weapons in their hands and stomping the ground with their feet, as if they wanted the earth to tremble and cheer to welcome the new chieftain who might appear soon!

A clan flag with three teeth painted on it was thrown into the field. It was the Baki Clan with a thousand warriors.

As a small clan, the chieftain of the Blade Fang Clan, Ramlin, was not a very strong orc. Among orcs, he was definitely skinny.

What he lacked in strength he made up for in great agility.

"Orgrim--" Ramlin roared loudly, but his movements reminded people of a nimble mountain cat. Aiming at Orgrim's injured right leg, Ramlin moved at high speed with Orgrim's injured leg as the axis.

Orgrim was indeed affected, and the moment he turned around and couldn't catch up, Ramlin pounced on him.

Two crossed scimitars flashed coldly, and an extremely scarlet cross blood mark suddenly appeared on Orgrim's broad back. The flesh was torn open by the barbs on the scimitar blades, which was a shocking sight!

When Ramlin succeeded in striking and tried to retreat, Orgrim counterattacked.

In the sunlight, the heavy hammer of destruction shone with a dark light as it spun. There was no skill involved, only speed.

Incredibly fast.

It's crazy fast.

It was so fast that it was beyond what Ramlin could capture with his naked eyes.

In the blink of an eye, his slightly slender body was split in half by just one powerful blow, as if he was hit by an extremely huge machete.

Time seemed to stand still, Ramlin's chest and lower body were still suspended in the air, but the abdomen that was hit instantly exploded into a bloody rain of flesh and bones, exploding in the direction of the hammer!

It seemed as if three seconds had passed before Ramlin, still with eyes full of disbelief, and his upper body with eyeballs on it, fell dejectedly into a pool of blood.

Kill with one blow, full of domineering power!

"Next!" Orgrim's loud voice sounded like a drum to the orcs' ears.

Another battle flag was thrown into the field, and a minute later, there was another scar on Orgrim's shoulder and another corpse on the ground.

"Next one!" Same killing blow, same voice, same tune that never changed.

However, with the bodies of the three chiefs as a backdrop, Orgrim's cry took on a different meaning.

The chieftain, who thought he was weaker, responded with silence. At this moment, no one was still hoping for the best. Although the orcs watching were still very excited, there was a brief silence among the people who were truly qualified to participate in Makgora.

It took a full half minute before the fourth battle flag was thrown down.

Three minutes later, the fifth side.

Ten minutes later, the sixth side!

When the seventh battle flag was thrown into the battlefield, Orgrim had already become a bloody man. No one could tell whether it was Orgrim's blood or the blood of his enemies.

None of the six chiefs had a complete body; all of them turned into bloody pieces of meat.

From a little-known chieftain at first to the chieftain of a clan of ten thousand people, the challenger was getting stronger and stronger, and Orgrim's injuries were also getting worse and worse.

Now, whoever wants to go up must first consider his own weight.

The seventh battle flag was thrown down, and out came an orc with no left hand, a long scimitar below his left arm, and dark skin.

It's not because his left hand was broken in the war, but because he is a warrior of the Broken Palm Clan.

As one of the cruelest and most vicious orc clans in the Horde, the tradition of the Brokenhand clan warriors is to cripple their left hands, replace them with sharp blades, and be ready to go through fire and water for the glory of the clan at any time.

"Orgrim, you are indeed very powerful, but your journey to become the Warchief will end here with me, Kargath Bladefist."

the Hordes were also divided into different levels. Only the chieftains of small clans had the right to challenge, but in large clans, those recognized warriors also had the right to challenge Mak'gora. For example, in history, Orgrim challenged Blackhand as the deputy chieftain of the Blackrock clan, which was equivalent to the deputy chieftain, and killed Blackhand to succeed.

Glancing at Kargath's Blade Fist, a hint of disdain appeared on Orgrim's rough face.

"You can't do it, let your chieftain Kargath come instead."

"Hmph! You are tired! You are seriously injured! Orgrim!" Kargath took a sudden step forward.

"You are only worthy of taking advantage of seriously injured opponents." The sarcasm on Orgrim's face became more and more intense: "Yes! I am tired and injured, but even if there are a thousand more guys like you, I can kill them all!"

The roar of the crowd was thought to have reached the peak long ago, but who would have thought that after Orgrim's words, behind the peak that was thought to be insurmountable, a higher mountain of heaven seemed to appear out of thin air in the clouds.

The sound waves echoed in the sky hundreds and thousands of times, and the entire tribal camp and even the entire earth were shaking violently.

What a heroism this is!

As long as there is life, there will be a bloody battle!

Once upon a time, no one thought highly of Orgrim, the deputy of Blackhand. But now every orc has changed his mind. With strong admiration, no, this is no longer admiration, this is worship.

"Orgrim - Orgrim -" The roar of thousands of orcs in the audience drove the emotions of all the orcs in the entire tribal camp.

Although the orcs in the distance could not see what was happening, they knew from the voice of their leader that perhaps a new chief was about to be born.

Kargath pounced.

Although Orgrim looked down on Kargath with his mouth, he actually put in 120% of his energy into it.

None of the guys from the Broken Palm Clan are easy to mess with.

The Broken Palm Clan was originally a group of orcs enslaved by ogres. These orcs were imprisoned by ogres in a huge, rough and extremely solid circular arena as gladiators. Fighting non-stop every day to entertain the ogres and a group of "higher races" was the only meaning of the existence of these orc gladiators.

The ogres promised freedom to any orc slave who killed a hundred orcs in the arena, and Kargath Bladefist, did just that.

However, the ogre did not give Kargath freedom, but a fate of being imprisoned in a dungeon without sunlight until his death. Kargath was imprisoned in the dungeon, with his left hand fixed to the prison pillar with steel handcuffs. In order to break free from the handcuffs, Kargath chose to destroy his left hand.

Kargath led the orc slaves who chose to give up their left hands like himself and replaced them with sharp fist blades, fighting like the Spartacus slaves who rebelled against the ancient Roman Empire before Duke traveled through time. They killed the ogres who enslaved them, and Kargath carried the head of the ogre leader and announced the formation of a new clan. A clan that yearned for freedom and fought for it - the Broken Hand Clan.

Therefore, each of these orcs from the Broken Hand Clan is a super elite who has fought their way through a sea of blood and corpses.

With just one charge from Kargath, Orgrim realized that this was not an opponent he could defeat unscathed.

Out of the corner of his eye, Orgrim saw several famous chieftains or heroes who had been watching from the sidelines: Grom Hellscream, Kilrogg Deadeye, Samuro...

Orgrim couldn't be sure whether the strongest warriors in these tribes were planning to take action, but he had to prepare for the worst.

We must fight quickly and decisively!

Kargath also held a warhammer in his right hand. It was not as huge as the the Doomhammer, but only a little bit smaller. However, Orgrim did not dare to underestimate it.

The same hammering, but Kargath's movements showed a sense of solidity that came from a thousand hammerings.

He took a step, raised his left arm, swung his right arm, and exerted force suddenly. At first glance, there was nothing surprising about it. Only a warrior who had experienced countless battles would find that Kargath did not make any unnecessary movements.

The angle, strength and speed were all exquisitely executed, and there was room for Orgrim to make changes in his tactics for any counterattack.

With no choice, Orgrim swung his hammer and fought against Kargath's hammer.

"Bang--" The clanging sound of the two largest hammers colliding almost broke the eardrums of the orcs watching the battle around.

The buzzing sound of metal forced most of the orcs to cover their ears.

No one expected that Kargath would suddenly drop the sledgehammer in his hand and thrust out with his left hand. His left arm was his killer move, and after closing the distance, the scimitar blade, which was as long as a human arm, was unexpectedly flexible.

Although Orgrim's Doomhammer is sharp, such a large hammer has never been a good defensive weapon.

At the next moment, the Shattered Palm Clan's unique scimitar was about to pierce Orgrim's chest.

At this moment, a giant hand the size of a palm leaf fan suddenly blocked the front of the scimitar...

"puff!"

Blood was everywhere.

The sharp blade easily penetrated Orgrim's left palm and stabbed into the muscle on his chest, but it could not penetrate into the most fatal part of his heart, because Orgrim's left palm clenched suddenly, and even with his palm pierced, he still held the scimitar tightly at the bottom of his arm.

"I got you." There was an indescribable coldness in Orgrim's voice.

Kargath tried to retreat, but the giant hand held his arm tightly.

With both sides so close, using a sledgehammer is a joke. There is simply no distance to exert force.

Too close!

Orgrim had a more direct method. Just like what he did with Kargath's right hand, he also threw away his Hammer of Destruction almost immediately. His right hand turned into a cone and pierced Kargath's throat.

"Cough--" The unclear sound in Kargath's throat was his last sound in this world.

The next moment, Orgrim turned his fingers into hooks and dug out Kargath's entire throat.

Simple! Violent!

Full of barbaric aesthetics!

This is what the orcs love most, this is what the orcs worship!

"Oh oh oh oh——" The boiling sound waves rolled straight into the sky, as if crossing countless light years and the endless void, and reached the planet Draenor.

He withdrew his left hand from the scimitar and kicked away Kargath, who was about to lose his life and become a corpse.

Orgrim raised his fists and let out a seventh magnificent and shocking roar.

"Who? Who else!?"

Orgrim cast his gaze upon the faces of the top figures in the Horde - Grom, Kilrogg, Samuro... At the moment when they were covered in wounds, Orgrim dared to say that he would not have more than a 50% chance of winning against any of them.

But he can't and won't retreat!

This is not only because of his life and his honor, but also because he feels that he is shouldering the final instructions of his best friend Durotan and the heavy responsibility of leading the Horde to fight a way out in this strange and unfriendly world.

Besides excitement, his eyes were full of clarity!

Orgrim's god-like gaze swept across the faces of the strong men in the Horde one by one.

There was no provocation, all he saw was obedience.

A strong man lowered his head.

The two strong men lowered their heads.

Three...

Ten!

When Orgrim saw Samuro's face, Samuro punched his chest, which was the etiquette for meeting the Warchief.

Kilrogg and Grom looked at each other.

Kilrogg: "My 'Dead Eye' saw that Orgrim should not die here. I will not sacrifice my life for an irreversible destiny." After saying that, Kilrogg also saluted.

Grom: "I am very satisfied with my position as Chieftain of the Warsong Clan." He then saluted.

At this point, the second Warchief of the Horde was born!