"What I want to talk about next is the Warsong clan, the most ferocious among the orc clans, and their chief, Grom Hellscream."
Hearing this legendary name, Varian's body felt numb, his legs felt weak, and he almost sat on the ground.
In fact, in the two orc wars, the Warsong Clan was notable for only the defense of the Dark Portal, and other than that they did not achieve many meritorious deeds.
But the trauma they brought to Azeroth is the most profound. This clan is more cruel and ruthless than other orcs. Everywhere they go, life is extinguished and the land is desolate.
Especially their leader Grom Hellscream, the reaper of women and children, the cruel and ruthless executioner, almost synonymous with death.
If Grom Hellscream hadn't been raised as a dog by Thrall, Varian would have fainted from fear right now.
Vari calmed down and said doubtfully: "I remember that Grom had a humiliating time, and his iron will was nothing more than this."
Maraad shook his head:
"Your Majesty the King, you don't understand Grom. Fifteen years of wilderness life have worn away his will. Coupled with Thrall's betrayal, he fell into that situation in his old age."
You can't just listen to rumors, you have to look at what he has done.
It is said that Grom Hellscream has a will as strong as iron. Putting aside the humiliation in his later years, he just couldn't stand the temptation of the blood of Maronos. This shows that many of the rumors are untrue.
Unfortunately, Varian didn't think about this and was completely immersed in the fear of this legendary orc chieftain.
Just listen to Maraad's voice trembling:
"I have never seen such a terrifying orc. Grom has led his Warsong clan to encroach on the territory of the ogres. What he is best at is killing women and children, stealing all property, and burning everything he sees.
During an attack on an ogre village, the Warsong clan was ambushed by an army of ogres, and Grom was defeated without any surprise."
In terms of size, the ogres have a very obvious advantage. In addition, there are mages among the ogres, so the defeat of the orcs is reasonable.
"The ogre hung Grom on a dry tree and exposed him to the sun without eating or drinking for a full hundred days..."
"Wait, you said a hundred days." Varian looked horrified.
Maraad nodded solemnly:
"That's right, it's a hundred days. If an ordinary orc couldn't hold on for three days, Grom relied on his strong will. Even if his strong body became skin and bones, he still didn't give in. When the ogre came to collect the corpse
At that time, I found that he still had a breath left."
"Oh my god, there are such terrifying orcs." Varian looked pale.
Maraad said seriously:
"A strong will can turn into vitality and create incredible miracles. The ogre warlord came after hearing the news. When approaching Grom, Grom suddenly broke free from the rope and bit off the ogre warlord's head.
The warlord was accompanied by more than a dozen relatives
letter, they were so frightened that they ran away at that moment. One of the confidants later recalled that they saw Grom eating the warlord's huge body in several bites, and the withered body swelled up again. They all said that he was close to death.
Gained the power of the devil."
Varian roared and overturned the sand table in front of him: "Such a terrifying enemy, but you tricked me into crossing the Dark Portal to fight against them. Do you think there is no cemetery in Azeroth?"
Maraad was secretly surprised, how could he express the fear in his heart, forgetting the purpose of this trip, and hurriedly made up for it:
"No, no, Your Majesty the King, please listen to me. Although Grom is powerful, he also has weaknesses?"
Varian's eyes widened: "Tell me, what is his weakness?"
"Weakness, weakness."
Maraad pondered for a long time, but was speechless.
Varian asked: "Can you defeat Grom Hellscream?"
Maraad shook his head.
"Then can I count on Prophet Velen?" Varian asked again.
Maraad smiled bitterly and said: "Prophet Velen can only pray for the Holy Light, he has never been on the battlefield."
Varian punched the collapsed sand table:
"So we are facing an invincible enemy. Do you want to see us all killed by him? The Kingdom of Stormwind turned into a sea of fire, and Azeroth became a river of blood. Are you satisfied?"
Maraad was stunned, secretly feeling that something was wrong, that some kind of magic was secretly affecting his emotions.
"It seems I have to rethink crossing the Dark Portal." Varian said uneasily.
"Your Majesty the King, please listen to my explanation." Maraad tried to organize his words in an attempt to save the situation.
Varian waved his hand and said, "You can go back."
In the barren wilderness, the scorching sun bakes the earth.
Compared with the warm sunshine in Azeroth, the sunlight in the world of Draenor is full of fiery and explosive feeling, as if it is burning the earth directly with fire.
Grom Hellscream was hung on a crooked tree, his body swinging gently.
Beside him, the corpses of thousands of Warsong clan orcs piled up into a hill.
Grimac was fiddling with a small gadget. Although his fingers were thick, they were disproportionately flexible.
"Do you recognize this thing?" Grimac showed off to Garrosh beside him.
Garrosh looked at it, curled his lips and replied:
"I have seen something similar. It was made by goblins. It can draw a picture quickly. I rarely use this thing. They say it can suck people's essence."
Grimac laughed loudly: "As expected, they are unlearned orcs. This thing is called a camera. In the early years, the Draenei came to Draenor and taught the manufacturing technology to the arakkoa. As a result, hundreds of years later, in Germany
It has been lost among the Lenny people. Prophet Velen has the same reason as you, saying that this thing has an unknown nature and is contrary to the way of the Holy Light."
After taking several photos of Grom Hellscream on the tree, Grimac selected the one he was more satisfied with and said with a smile:
"After a tragic defeat, the warchief was captured by the ogres, but he survived with his strong will and brought back the head of the ogre warlord, a flawless legendary script."
Grimac threw a prepared imitation ogre head on the ground. Grom Hellscream jumped down from the tree, smiled apologetically, and carefully picked up the head.
"There is nothing more inspiring than this. He will become a great hero among the orcs, a living legend."
Grimac shook the camera in his hand: "These will be used as evidence to be circulated in the world of Draenor. Soon, the orcs will be known to everyone."
Garrosh asked uncomfortably: "Is there no true legend in this world?"
"have!"
Grimac said seriously:
"But no leader will let the legend spread. Unless it happens to the leader himself, what are the chances that a handful of leaders will give birth to a legend? If it is not fake, it is simply impossible to happen. You have to understand that most
Most people are stupid and they believe in false legends."
Garrosh smiled bitterly and pointed at his father: "Are all the chiefs of Draenor like this? I really doubt how they invaded Azeroth."
Grimac sneered:
"Once little people gain power, they are often more unscrupulous and have no scruples than big people. Unfortunately, they cannot withstand setbacks, so once the orcs are defeated, they fall into despair. But it is not always like this. There are also some truly capable chiefs."