The air is filled with tension, and the war is coming.
Sweat streaked across the warrior's face, Zuldazar was behind him.
The footsteps of enemy troops were heard in the distance, and the earth was shaking.
It's time for the trolls to defend their homeland, and the blood in their bodies is already surging.
The last leaf on the dry branch was knocked off by the breeze.
The sunlight tore through the heavy shadow of the forest. Look, the respected regent Prophet Zul has come to the front line in person!
Zul wore his own golden mask, and the trolls couldn't see his expression clearly. A huge thunder dragon carried the prophet to the edge of the battlefield in person.
In front of him was a massive black Zandalari army.
Behind him was an equally dark, seemingly larger number of beast-blood coalition forces.
The soldiers, the priests, the troll militiamen who were only physically strong and had received some fighting training, and the trolls' dinosaur partners looked at the prophet with his back to the orcs.
Zul's waist was already bent.
In fact, he is not very old. He is only a few hundred years old. As a prophet, he is really not very old.
The Zul of Zandalari generally lived for one or two thousand years. The power and knowledge they accumulated over the generations were the mainstay of the troll clan.
It was before and it is now.
It will be the same in the future.
The expression under the prophet's golden mask was filled with joy that could not be concealed.
Looking at the Zandalari Trolls, even though the beast-blood alliance behind him was more than twice the size of the troll army, the Prophet felt no fear at all.
This feels so good.
It's not the feeling of war.
Nor is it the feeling of commanding power.
It was a completely different feeling from the cautious one he had before.
Before meeting the Desert King, the Prophet had always felt that the entire world was against the trolls.
Whenever he wants to do something to increase the strength of the troll, this huge pressure always follows him.
Zul was crushed.
The part of his body that he bent down was usually due to the pressure. The other half was due to the worry caused by the increasing depravity of the troll clan.
The pressure is gone at this moment.
It feels so good that the whole world is helping the trolls.
So good that Zul couldn't control his expression, and his expression management failed.
In the forest, there are only the roars of distant orcs, the breathing of trolls, and the loud sound of the breeze blowing through the trees and weeds.
Under the gaze of nearly 200,000 Zandalari trolls, Zul, who stood on top of the Thunder Dragon, slowly spoke.
His voice is not loud.
But it was like a refreshing breeze in the ears of every Zandalari troll.
"In the exchange of letters with the great His Majesty Tonatiu, there were many things he said that made me suddenly realize."
"In view of today's situation, among His Majesty's wise sayings, there are two that I think are very suitable to tell everyone."
"The first sentence is: Peace only exists within the spear of the army."
"The second sentence is: The survival and growth of a race cannot be solved by negotiation and compromise... If you want to survive, you can only rely on iron and blood."
The prophet started dancing.
He danced the ancient dance of Zul, which was the war dance performed by the prophet in front of the battle when King Dasa led the army of the first Zul.
Zul's aging and sluggish body was constantly twisting, reaching out, kicking his feet, twisting his head, swinging his waist and raising his butt, which looked very funny.
In line with his always solemn performance, serious acting style, and recent strict and strict policy agenda.
Under such a huge contrast, the more than 200,000 trolls who witnessed his dance should have burst into laughter.
However, the trolls did not laugh. They all had serious faces, and the hairs on their bodies slowly stood up.
This phenomenon can be explained by earth science, that is, the trolls' adrenaline hormones began to be created in large quantities.
The blood in the trolls' bodies was ignited and boiled; they felt that their bodies were getting hot, and their endless strength was gradually emerging; the trolls' eyes, which were originally blue, brown, green, etc., now began to have blood in their pupils.
.
The dinosaur companions were also affected. Their self-control was even less than that of the troll. The troll felt hot and restless. However, they roared uncontrollably. If the troll had not restrained them, they would have almost rushed out.
Zul danced in a funny-looking way, with a fierce movement when the Zandalari troll was almost on fire.
The Prophet concluded his war dance.
At the same time, the golden mask on his face turned into pieces and fell from his face.
"Ouch~"
A lifetime of distant lamentation.
The huge thunder dragon carrying the prophet screamed, and it fell down with it.
It's dead.
The prophet's dancing steps on it took away its vitality, and this huge thunder dragon was offered to the world as a sacrifice.
The trolls looked solemn.
There was no troll to save Zul, who might have been pinned beneath the thunder elephant.
They are all waiting.
They waited.
Zul, who was gray-faced and bleeding from his ears, nose and eyes, vomited blood and climbed up from under the thunder elephant with a smile on his face, and climbed onto its body.
"Now, bleed."
He pointed to his rear, which was the frontline position of the allied forces of the orcs and blood trolls.
"Drain our sweat and drain the enemy's blood!"
He suddenly raised his arms and shouted.
"Trolls live forever!"
"The empire must rise!"
The prophet's roar echoed throughout the land.
The whole forest seemed to be roaring these two sentences, the big trees were singing, the grass was humming, and the bushes were shouting.
Tens of thousands of years after the bloody battle with the Yaqir Empire, the trolls finally cried out to the world again.
The two hundred thousand Zandalari trolls, who had always had solemn expressions, could no longer control their expressions at this moment, and they all showed ferocious and bloodthirsty emotions like wild beasts.
Like their ancestors, they roared, shouted, and marched forward with their own weapons.
Even if there is an abyss ahead.
Even if they rush to the front, they can only survive for one second.
Even if the enemy is many times stronger than you!
"Trolls live forever!"
"The empire must rise!"
The two words Zul yelled became the war cry of the Zandalari trolls, which was sung in the forest and instilled endless courage in the trolls.
More than 200,000 trolls launched a desperate charge. Behind them, except for the two loa of Lazan and Gani.
The other Zandalar Loa who were left alive appeared one by one, this time even Bwonsamdi and Zanza the Sleepless came.
"Zul is so willing to give up. Old Bwonsamdi's sense of him has changed a bit." The god of death rarely used his trademark humorous tone.
"The prophets have not changed." Zanza the Sleepless, the troll Loa who was transformed from the fallen ancient troll hero, said softly. "Every prophet and every Zul is dedicated to the troll empire.
"
"It seems that old Bwonsamdi is going to lose money today." Bwonsamdi said, shaking his head.
The Sleepless One did not respond to Him.
The troll Loa has already rushed towards the orc position.
The sound of fighting was loud.
Just like tens of thousands of years ago.
The forest will once again witness the bravery of the trolls.
