Chapter 45 Kashhag Festival

Time flies and spring is here.

It's the Keshhag Festival again. This festival only occurs twice a year, once in spring and once in autumn. When the festival comes, all the clans will gather to celebrate the day when day and night are of equal length.

It can be said that the festival period is the busiest time in Nagrand. Even the ogres would never dare to disturb the gatherings of the orc clans during this period.

Otherwise, it would not be a joke for many clans to unite after disturbing the traditions of the orcs.

Before the festival officially started, the orc clans came here one after another.

The same goes for Nergo. Thanks to the distance advantage of the Warsong clan, he did not rush to Nagrand months in advance, or even half a year ago like some clans did. He only needed a few days of effort.

"It's okay if it's Gorgrond, but if it's the Shadowmoon clan, I'm afraid I won't have to do anything else for the whole year, and I'll be on the road." Nergo thought a little jokingly.

But no, there are two festivals a year, and it takes several months to get there once, and several months to go back. Back and forth, the front leg has just arrived home, and the back leg festival is coming again.

It's really difficult for them to keep from missing every festival.

The festivities officially begin at moonrise the night before. They gathered in a land they called Nagrand, the Land of the Winds, at the foot of Oshu'gul, the Mountain of Souls.

The Keshhag Festival is held every year in this holy land. No one can tell how long this tradition has been.

I just vaguely remember that this was originally a gathering of shamans, and later evolved into a festival for all orcs.

Challenges and duels are nothing new at festivals, but truly angry fights have never broken out here. If someone does lose their temper, which does happen with so many people gathered together, the shamans will advise the person involved to resolve the issue peacefully, and if they can't, they will be ordered to leave the sacred place.

At the foot of the Holy Mountain.

Nelgo waited with the other orcs for the Pale Lady to appear.

This is not the first time Nergo has participated in the Kershharg Festival, but every time he sees the pale lady climbing above the clouds, she casts bright moonlight, and her breathtaking beauty makes him cheer like other orcs. .

How loud is an orc's voice?

What about a thousand? Ten thousand?

I don't know how many orcs were waiting for this moment under Washugu and cheered.

The sound was like thousands of horses galloping, and like the sky falling apart.

Wise elders, heroic warriors, even children learning to speak, they all made their own voices.

After the cheers, there is the sound of drums.

Not just shamans, but other orcs too are making every sound possible to pay their own tribute to the great star that rules the night.

When Amukvar found Nelgo, he was celebrating the occasion with two unknown orcs.

Nergo had a medium-sized war drum hanging on his waist. His other hand did not hold a mallet or anything like that, but he was just clapping rhythmically with his palm.

The remaining two orcs raised their hands high and pointed at the stars, launching primitive roars.

"As expected, you're here too." Seeing his friend from the Throne of Elements, Nelgo stopped, stepped forward and pulled Amukwa to sit on the plush blanket that had just been laid out.

"This is a festival for all orcs." Amukwa smiled, feeling more relaxed that he had found his friends so easily.

He didn't want to be thought of by the Warsong orcs as a spy plotting to destroy their clan.

"No, I mean, I didn't expect that your clan actually allowed you to come to our camp." Nergo lit a bonfire and took out the bacon that had been slaughtered and dried and put it aside.

Next comes another program of the Kershhag Festival - the banquet.

The warm firelight and silvery moonlight merged wonderfully, and the drums sounded again.

"I am a shaman after all." Amukwa waved his hand helplessly, "But even so, I can still feel the surveillance from the dark."

Orcs have never been civilized, but they are not sociable either. Every clan is very closed-minded. Even during festivals like this, the clans are just acquaintances, if not inseparable.

It's no wonder that someone is secretly monitoring this outsider.

Nergo couldn't say much about this tradition between various orc clans. Fortunately, Amukwa also understood that the isolationism among the orcs was not something that the two young shamans could change. He made a decisive choice Changing the subject, "Did your clan raid another ogre stronghold recently?"

Speaking of this, Nergo also responded happily: "You are really well-informed."

"No one is well-informed." Amukwa complained: "It would be strange if your Warsong clan didn't raid the ogres some year."

"Besides." Amukwa pointed to the drum on his waist and said, "I also know that you must have participated in the battle."

Nergo smiled, and his unrestrained smile did not arouse Amukwa's disgust. On the contrary, it made him look more like an orc. "That's right, and this drum is made from an ogre magician." Made of heads.”

"The bones of the ogre magician, the skin of the clefthoof cow." Nergo pulled over Tazzag who was just eating meat. "This is also thanks to Tazhag, who provided me with the skin of the clefthoof cow." ”

"Ogre mage? So brave." Amuqwa did not hesitate to praise him. Being able to participate in the battle at this age was already a heroic deed worthy of boasting, and killing the mage of the ogre was even more heroic. Didn't you see that the little orcs who were secretly watching them were already full of stars?

Tazag echoed: "Not only a mage, but also a spellbreaker, the kind that is immune to wind elements."

He recalled with a trace of admiration on his face: "At that time, the mage led his men to escape, and Nergo went to chase him alone. When the battle was over and we sent people to find him, we found that he was leaning on the body of the ogre mage, holding the head of the ogre in his hand."

"So amazing!"

"I tell you..."

The two orcs were like telling a crosstalk, one sentence after another, one funny and one supporting, turning a seemingly ordinary story into an epic.

It was comparable to St. George slaying the dragon.

Everyone laughed at Tazag's exaggerated story, only one orc was still unhappy.

"Garrosh, is the food here not to your liking?" Nergo noticed that the little bald head who was not bald yet was in a somewhat depressed mood, and asked after patting his head.

"No, I'm just worried." Although Garrosh disliked this kind of patting, he was powerless to resist and could only let him do whatever he wanted.

"Worried?" Nergo was a little surprised, but also a little funny, "Are you worried about my safety? Don't worry, I..."

"I'm worried that after I come of age, there will be no ogres for me to establish merits!" Garrosh interrupted him without hesitation.

It seems that I am still self-indulgent?