Chapter 17 16. The Judgment of Fate

"Only 7 arrows left..."

Lor'themar tore off his cloak and sat in the dark shadows, twisting his bowstring-torn fingers little by little. Zul'jin's head was fastened to his battle belt, and it seemed that he He will not put it down until he dies in battle or escapes danger.

"boom"

The shriveled water sac was thrown from behind. Lor'themar took it in his hand and drank the last sip of water. After his throat was moistened, he wiped his mouth and looked at the dark and quiet forest behind him. With a shocking crisis, he pressed his fingers on the war bow and said softly:

"There are at least 14 orcs chasing us, and the orc warlord who can be identified as a high-level fighter just by looking at it. Hey, it seems that it will be very difficult for us to escape this time."

"I know..."

Behind him, the silent Tyrion was biting the jerky in his hand with difficulty. He turned his back to Lor'themar, and rested his left hand on the hilt of the blood-stained phoenix epee. Beside the blade was a The corpse of a detached orc scout.

The water sac that allowed the two to drink was found on him, and the dried meat with a strange smell in Tyrion's hand was also the spoils of this ambush.

"Our state cannot deal with these pursuers."

Lor'themar continued, but was interrupted by Tyrion reaching out his hand. The latter looked at him and said word by word:

"I know! I know how bad it is... You're still the same as ever, talking non-stop!"

He stood up, pulled out the heavy sword stuck in the ground with his left hand, took a few steps forward, and looked back at Lor'themar:

"Let's split up and let the pursuers disperse. At least one of the two will survive... Don't tell me, the current you can't even deal with a few orcs."

Lor'themar didn't answer, his fingers stroked the surface of the bow, and after a moment he replied:

"I worry about the orc warlord...he is more dangerous than Zul'jin."

"No matter how strong he is, he can only chase in one direction at the same time."

Tyrion took a deep breath, shook his hands without looking back, and walked into the darkness:

"Since we have come to a desperate situation, let fate decide all this. Whoever encounters it will be his misfortune. Lor'themar the Farstrider, good luck to you."

"If you die! Tyrion!"

Lor'themar put the golden-red phoenix bow on his back, drew an arrow from his quiver, and shouted loudly:

"I will tell everyone about your feats and feats, and I will tell the story of your heroism throughout Quel'Thalas! I swear that I will help the Windrunner family secure the position of Ranger General, as long as I am still in Quel Salas has not been able to shake this principle for one day!"

He was silent for a second, then turned and walked in the other direction.

"If I die...please do the same thing, take my place, help His Royal Highness, and make Quel'Thalas better!"

Tyrion, who walked into the darkness, stopped, his shoulders were moving, and about the memory in his mind, those chaotic fragments echoed repeatedly in his mind:

"Don't be so desperate, Theron, maybe we'll all survive... at least I know, you... your fate is not here."

This familiar sentence made Lor'themar stunned for a moment. He shook his head, and a smile appeared on the corner of his mouth. He looked back at Tyrion's back and shouted:

"Hey! Tyrion, you are so good at comforting others, you must have spent a lot of time comforting yourself? How pitiful... If you can survive, I will buy you a drink!"

Tyrion didn't answer, as if he didn't hear that sentence at all, his figure quickly disappeared into the darkness, while Lor'themar reached out and touched the head on his waist, then turned around and jumped into the dark forest .

At this moment, the gears of fate quietly start to speed up. The familiar history may be diverted, and the extra gear may be completely crushed, allowing fate to return to track. So far, no one has heard the ending of this story. Know...

Less than 3 minutes after the two dispersed, Red Blackhand rushed out of the forest with a fully armed orc scout. He saw the scout with the head of the owl at a glance. Standing beside the soldier, he reached out to help him close his swollen eyes.

The muscles on Red's arm were tense, and he tightly held the red saber in his hand. He roared angrily:

"After losing a battle at the hands of humans, can even the weak elves wantonly humiliate us?!"

"Chasing! Use their heads...to pay homage to our soldiers!"

"Roar"

The orc warriors behind him roared in unison, completely breaking the silence of the dark forest, and the birds flew up from the forest, startling their feathers.

"They ran in both directions!"

After another scout rummaged through the ground, he reported to Red:

"We have no way of knowing who has Zul'kin's head."

"Cunning as a fox!"

A trace of resentment flashed in Reid's eyes: "Then we will separate too..."

"madness!"

A sound of reprimand came from behind Red, and the orc warriors moved out of the way in unison. The orc warlord Saurfang, who was carrying a tomahawk on his back, came out of the forest behind him, walked up to Red, and used A light of scrutiny looked at the little orc chief, and he asked in a deep voice:

"Is anger going to your head? Raid... tell me, do you want our exhausted warriors to die in vain?"

"I didn't...I just..."

"Snapped"

Red's rebuttal earned him a loud slap in the face, and Saurfang cursed in a voice that hated iron and steel:

"Two elves who combine to slay Zul'jin, isn't that enough to put you on your guard? Will ordinary warriors be their match? You guys, go to the right...all of you! They won't get far !"

"The other side..."

Reid subconsciously asked back, and then he saw Saurfang Warlord reach out and take off the battle ax behind his back, then turned and walked in the opposite direction to them.

"On the other side, I'll come in person!"

"Obey! Overseer!"

Red shouted, grabbed his sword, and rushed into the forest with the remaining orcs. Lor'themar's estimate was somewhat inaccurate. The number of orcs chasing him was actually not as many as he thought. In the scuffle with Dailin In the process, the remaining orcs were injured, and Zul'jin's body couldn't just be thrown in the forest like that.

There were about eight orcs following Red into the forest, and only one orc, Saurfang, was chasing him on the other side. It seemed that both Tyrion and Lor'themar had hope of escape.

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"Wow, wow"

The huge wings flapped the air, kicking up waves of dust on the boulders, and accompanied by the cry of a giant eagle, a huge and weird creature slowly landed on the top of a huge castle built along the mountain .

It has a lion-like golden mane, sharp claws, and a lion-like tail, but the front half of its body is a huge eagle with lightning eyes. Even the front claws are similar to eagle claws. The sharp long beak can Easily tear apart the enemy's body, and the wings flapping on both sides of its body can make this majestic and ferocious giant soar rapidly in the air.

This is the griffin... one of the most ferocious beasts of the Hinterlands at the top of the food chain.

However, this griffin has a rein on its head, and after it came to a stop, a short creature wearing leather armor and carrying a warhammer, as strong as an iron barrel, jumped down from behind the griffin, and he shot back with his backhand. He took out a large piece of fresh meat from the basket next to him and threw it to the beloved pet behind him.

Amid the griffon's joyful chirping, the short, muscular man quickly walked down the griffon fence and rushed towards the castle below.

"Kurdran! How are you, have you caught those troll thieves?"

"I killed them all! Not one left!"

When he entered the castle, his fellow clansmen in guard armor greeted him friendly. Obviously, this short man had a high status in his clan.

"Falstad, are you there?"

The short man rushed into the meeting hall of the castle. There was no one there. He yelled in his loud and loud voice. His thick voice echoed back and forth in the meeting hall. The short man with the crown walked quickly into the conference room.

What came into view was a pair of wise eyes, and an orange-red beard that completely covered most of his body. The beard was braided and dotted with gorgeous golden rings. Finally, his height, only 1.60 meters are less than.

"What's the matter? Kurdran? Didn't you go after the troll who stole our food? Why did you come back so soon?"

"Listen to me! Falstad, I've killed the troll, but I saw other creatures in the forest... elves! Those Quel'Thalas elves in the north who play magic! I see clear!"

Holding a warhammer, Kurdran shouted like a warrior:

"Green-skinned orcs are hunting them in our forests! As the messengers from the human kingdom told us, those orcs are ugly! And savage! I think we should help the elf!"

"But the Wildhammer dwarves haven't decided whether to join the war between humans and orcs, my brother!"

Griffin Knight Kurdran's friend, High Lord Falstad said a little embarrassedly:

"We managed to live a peaceful life. I don't want to lure orcs to the Hinterlands. The trolls here are annoying enough."

Kurdran and Falstad are both dwarves, a group of creatures who are short in stature but stocky in body and even comparable in strength to orcs. The blue battle patterns on the arms and cheeks of the two represent their clan, They all belong to the Wildhammer dwarves in the mountains of the Hinterlands and have lived here for 200 years.

"Those orcs just slaughtered Khaz Modan! Falstad, they killed thousands of our people!"

Compared to the leader who has to think too much about issues, the warriors always have simple ideas. Kurdran shouted to Falstad angrily:

"Although we have parted ways with the Bronzebeard family, what remains in our bodies is the blood inherited from the great Kazgros. If you hadn't stopped me, I would have taken the Griffin Riders to teach those damned people a lesson. The greenskins! Not to mention they are breaking into our Hinterlands now!"

"Can't be soft on them anymore! Falstad!"

He stared fiercely at his lord, almost grabbing his collar with both hands:

"Tell me! Falstad, has the courage surging in your body disappeared?!"

This kind of irony about courage is fierce in the tradition of dwarves. Lord Falstad of the Wildhammer almost jumped up when he was ridiculed by his friend. He responded loudly:

"Kurdran! You have to consider the continental form!"

"I don't think about any continental form!"

Kurdran walked outside the castle on his own:

"I only know that Quel'Thalas is killing trolls, and we are also killing trolls, so we are friends with Quel'Thalas! Falstad, whether you want it or not, I'm going to try it !"

"Listen to me! Kurdran! Don't be impulsive!"

"I won't listen! The sky never taught the Wildhammer to be weak!"

Griffin Knight Kurdran turned his head and waved the warhammer fiercely in his hand: "No one can challenge the Wildhammer in the Hinterlands! Trolls can't, and orcs can't either!!!"

"Alfonso! Summon the Gryphon Riders! Let us slaughter the Orcs!"

"We'll tell the Greenskins! We're not like the weak Bronzebeards! We're... the Wildhammers of the sky!!"

Uh uh uh, group, yes! Created a group --- 785722542, Death Track book friend group, reading books harmoniously, discussing harmoniously, and occasionally there are red envelopes~ come soon~