The earth of Draenor was rotting, and no normal plants could grow.
The turbid wind blew in the sky, making it hard to breathe.
Without plants, herbivores could not survive, and naturally, the carnivores at the top of the food chain could not survive either.
The stars in the sky were on the verge of falling, and the sun was dim in the thick clouds of dust. Everything seemed lifeless.
The wind on the earth suddenly stopped, and the air reverberated with the melodious and deep sound of a horn.
The wind stopped, and the dust that was originally flying along with the wind also settled down. On the ground, huge figures could be seen advancing towards the same target.
There were huge wolves of various colors, but most of them were huge green-skinned humanoid figures. They were generally more than two meters tall, and their entire bodies were bulging with explosive muscles. Even the slightly slender females among them had burly figures that completely surpassed the human Warriors.
They carried all kinds of weapons and gathered at the place where the horn sounded.
Their thick and heavy feet stepped on the ground, and even the solid ground made slight cracking sounds when they stepped on it.
The earth was cracking inch by inch, and there was no longer a trace of nutritious soil. Every step on it was like the sound of approaching death.
A huge bolt of lightning seemed to split the sky, and the remaining cracks were imprinted on the retina of these burly Warriors. A giant with a reddish complexion raised his head in shock. He saw that in the gloomy sky, the mud-like clouds were slowly flowing towards the target.
"This … is …"
"Durotan, there's no need to look. That must be Gul 'dan's spell."
Durotan opened his eyes, and in his pure blue pupils was a reflection of a nearly straight tornado. It was as if the energy of the entire world of Draenor was converging there.
As the chief of the Orc Frostwolf Clan, the young Durotan had an incomparably strong body. On that strong body that was like a small mountain, it was covered with the most typical Orc style accessories.
Two large braids were combed well and hung down in front of his chest. On his two arms that were thicker than a cow's leg, there was a ring of animal tooth ornaments of various sizes. Around his waist was a white leather belt that was thick enough to cover his entire belly.
Durotan was carrying a huge axe that was as big as half a door of a human house. Beside him was his beloved white wolf, which was as big as a water buffalo and weighed at least 400 kilograms.
Durotan wriggled his mouth, and the two protruding fangs in his lower jaw emitted a crisp metallic sound as they were pierced by decorative iron rings.
"Orgrim, I feel that the destruction of the world has something to do with Gul 'dan."
Durotan's good friend, Orgrim Doomhammer, who would soon become the Great Chief of the Orc Tribe, tilted his head and said, "I don't think a single Orc can destroy a world."
Orgrim's body wasn't as burly as Durotan's. Just by looking at his figure, he was half a size smaller. However, if any Orc neglected the square-headed iron hammer in his hand, which was larger than most Orcs' torsos, they would definitely pay a heavy price.
Orgrim's body was also covered with all sorts of Orc accessories. The fangs hanging on his body were a type of decoration, but also a symbol of his bravery. Only a Orc Warrior who had killed a ferocious monster by himself could cut off the monster's fangs and hang them on his body.
In this aspect, Orgrim was not inferior to Durotan.
Both of them were renowned warriors among the Orcs!
As they got closer to their destination, Durotan saw more and more Orcs.
These elite warriors from different clans and clans were either beating their own chests or letting out sky-shaking roars, displaying their bravery in all kinds of ways. Some of them were even slightly exaggerated, and naturally, they were wrestling with those who were not pleasing to their eyes. The entire gathering place was like a huge arena.
"Ah, the Warsong Tribe, Blackrock Tribe, Shadowmoon Tribe, Shattered Palm Tribe … Almost all the large tribes are here."
Orgrim continued, "Of course, the world is ending. If we don't want to follow the world to its end, we can only respond to Great Chief Blackhand and Gul 'dan's call."
While the two of them were talking, many Beastmen noticed Durotan.
Many Orcs' pupils suddenly shrank, and the crowd filled with fighting spirit became restless. The gathered Orc Warriors parted like water splashes, or perhaps like a retreating tide. The Orc Warriors opened up a path for the two warriors, who were wearing tusk ornaments all over their bodies.
At this time, an even taller and more burly figure appeared on a rough wooden platform not far away. It was a huge Orc wrapped in heavy iron armor. The huge war hammer covered in dried blood showed off his bravery.
His iron-blooded face seemed to tell the other Orcs that he also had a heart of steel.
His aura when he appeared was like a giant battle axe, forcibly splitting apart the wild and unruly crowd of orcs. Those who retreated a few steps too late were suffocated by the murderous aura that was filled with the smell of blood, and their chests shrank as they exhaled, almost losing the courage to bounce back.
"Oh, Frostwolf Tribe, go look for a place in the south." In the tribe, the only one who could suppress the heroic Frostwolf Chief in terms of aura was the Great Chief Blackhand, nicknamed the Destroyer.
Durotan and Orgrim simultaneously punched their left chests with their right fists to show respect to the Great Chief. But Blackhand didn't even look at Durotan as he left.
After settling down the Frostwolf Tribe, an hour passed. In front of the huge stone gate that was a few hundred meters tall, there was a call to assemble.
"Woo woo — Woo woo woo —" The long horn sounded as if it came from a long, long time ago. It was as if it was announcing that the world that the Draenei called 'Draenor' was about to perish. It was also as if it was blowing the horn of a new war!
Most of the Orcs didn't think that much. They only knew that it was Gul 'dan gathering the Orcs in the name of Great Chief Blackhand.
The green Orcs surged towards the wide open space in front of the huge gate. The tall and sturdy figure easily squeezed the empty space until not even a drop of water could trickle through.
The weaker Orcs couldn't even get close to the gate. Those who lacked strength and stamina would naturally be pushed to the outermost circle.
On the stone steps in front of the huge gate that was dozens of meters tall, a hunchbacked Orc in a black robe slowly walked into the sight of tens of thousands of Orcs, holding a skull staff. There were even a few huge bone spikes sticking out of his back, and there were even a few dried skulls stuck on them.
His figure wasn't huge, but no Orc would ignore his existence.
He was the one who had surpassed his mentor, Ner 'zhul, and was now the ruler of the Orcs — Gul' dan!
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