Any description of war by someone who has not experienced it is pale and empty.
Duke once naively thought that he could save everyone, but Lothar gently modified Duke's plan.
It was a magical image that was almost like a video.
There was no sign of life on the charred land, and thick black smoke columns were everywhere reaching the sky. The once fertile fields had been abandoned, and the end of the horizon was full of broken houses and shabby tiles. The streets were littered with corpses.
There were sturdy farmers, skinny old people, pregnant women with big bellies, and children under 10 years old. Most of them were beheaded and their blood had begun to dry and turn black, proving how desolate and tragic the scene was.
Duke seemed to hear the screams, howls, and cries that lingered there at that moment.
Regardless of age, gender, or whether or not they had the ability to fight, everyone was apparently dragged to the village square and slaughtered uniformly.
That was a genocide aimed at exterminating the entire human race.
Games are always just games. No matter how one describes it, it is not enough to describe this unforgettable spiritual impact.
Lothar came over and patted Duke on the shoulder gently: "Your plan is great, but you are still too young."
Duke's mouth was half open, as if he wanted to argue something, but in the end, the words that came out of his mouth became: "At least let me go with you to see off the soldiers!"
Lothar was stunned for a moment, then stared into Duke's eyes and said only one word: "Okay!"
The sun has already set and the moonlight in the sky is hazy, as if expressing sorrow for Stormwind City, which has stood for a thousand years but is about to fall.
A large number of troops gathered in the open space outside Stormwind Fortress. Ten thousand soldiers stood solemnly in the shadow of Stormwind Fortress, forming a huge silent square formation.
Torches had already been lit on the walls between the city districts of Stormwind. Torches on every battlement on the top of the city cast long, swaying, fiery red rays of light, shining on the square formation, making the clanging light of armor appear.
It is a combination of iron and blood.
That is a reflection of hatred and anger.
It was a volcano of anger ready to erupt.
The suicide squad has assembled and is silently waiting for the order to attack.
If you look closely, you will find that most of these suicide squad members are injured.
Either light or heavy.
In serious cases, some even had broken arms, and in worse cases, a piece of intestine was exposed outside the body and was simply held up by the hands.
The continuous wars have exhausted the mental strength of all the priests in the city, and medical supplies were used up 10 days ago.
If these people were left alone , most of them would die given the backward medical level of this era.
But if you die, you must die meaningfully!
Suddenly, a clear command was heard: "His Majesty Wrynn has arrived! Salute—"
There was only a series of clattering noises, and 10,000 people stood at attention at the same time. The injuries obviously affected them. If they were in a normal state, the elite soldiers trained by Lothar would definitely move in unison, as neat as one person.
Duke, who was following behind Llane, Anduin and Bolvar, suddenly felt a little sad.
Llane, wearing a golden helmet and golden armor, stood at the main entrance of Stormwind Fortress, and his facial muscles twitched.
Anduin Lothar stood beside the king, his loud voice like a lion's roar spread throughout the army: "Warriors of the kingdom! His Majesty Wrynn comes personally to bid farewell to the warriors. Everyone, be silent!"
Nearly ten thousand people once again stood at attention and put their feet together.
Walking down the ramp, Llane, Duke and others walked slowly past the front of the queue.
What kind of faces are those!
There was no vitality, no energy, and every face was filled with the paleness of death.
Every pair of eyes revealed an astonishing and fiery fighting spirit, mixed with hatred and murderous anger!
In every pair of pupils, there is a sparkle of the fighting spirit to die bravely.
Yes! Every soldier knows he will die.
But before their lives are burned out, they will give the invaders a fatal blow in the most fierce way.
Duke's nose felt a little sour.
Llane looked at the familiar and unfamiliar faces one by one, and couldn't help being moved. He almost patted the shoulders of every soldier in the first row as he walked past. In the end, he managed to control himself and walked to the pre-built platform.
Llane raised the large bowl filled with wine high, and the soldiers followed suit by raising their large bowls filled with wine.
King Llane's clear voice spread far and wide:
"Azeroth has been invaded, and humans have been slaughtered like pigs and dogs. But luckily, you are here to raise your swords to these damn greenskins. I, and you, will die in this damn war, perhaps tonight or tomorrow. But it doesn't matter, because we are dying for our descendants."
"I only regret that I, Llane Wrynn, cannot accompany you to fight side by side tonight! But it doesn't matter. Please go ahead. When I meet you again, I will either proudly tell you that I have taken Stormwind back; or I will tell you that I died on the way to charge, just like you all!"
"Now, let me use this wine to wish you all good luck in choping off more orc heads!"
After saying that, Llane resolutely raised his head and drank the full bowl of liquor in one gulp.
Looking at Llane's moving Adam's apple, Duke, Anduin, Bolvar and others all raised their heads and drank.
It must be said that this gin, which originated from the dwarves, had a strange fiery feeling. The hot torrent rushed into his throat, flowed down his esophagus into his stomach, and Duke suddenly felt a burning sensation all over his body.
Duke, who didn't like drinking much, staggered, but took a step back and stood firm immediately.
"Sir Edmund! I heard that it was you who proposed this operation, so I would like to ask one last question." An old soldier with a bandaged head and an empty left arm stepped out, raised the wine in the dish high, and saluted Duke.
A buzz of low voices rose among the soldiers.
Duke took a step forward proudly, his breath still reeking of alcohol, but he was very sober: "You ask, I answer!"
The old soldier grinned, his teeth were covered with dirt. "I am a rough man! I don't know anything about magic, nor do I know any plans. I only know that my wife and children died in this war, and I don't have anything to worry about. I just want to ask you... tonight, how many orcs' lives can I buy with my death? "
This is not only the voice of the veterans, but also the voice of the ten thousand warriors who are about to die.
They are not afraid of death!
The key is whether it is worth it! ?
Duke trembled all over and shouted, "One for ten! And I will use the head of the orc chieftain to establish to raise the spirits my brothers!"
The old soldier laughed proudly: "Hahaha! Originally, I thought that killing one would break even, and killing two would be a profit! I didn't expect that I could actually go to hell while looking at the head of the tribal chieftain! Hahaha! I'd be willing to die!"
He resolutely drank the wine in the large bowl in his hand, and with a crisp snap, he smashed the plate to pieces.
Behind him, ten thousand soldiers were doing the same thing, and the sound of plates breaking could be heard everywhere.
Llane's eyes were filled with tears, and he raised his hand: "Let's go!"