What is a master tactician?
Battlefield tactics are ever-changing, but no matter how they change, they remain true to their roots.
In the final analysis, tactics are just four words—leverage strengths and avoid weaknesses.
If your infantry is well-trained, then display bunkers all over the mountains and fields, build gun towers by the mountains and water, and use infantry arrays to fight forward.
stable!
Your cavalry is good at maneuvering. In the plains battle, you can outflank and harass at night in roundabout ways, and use your mobility and impact to drag down the enemy's logistics and morale.
Cool!
If you have many archers and gunners, build parapets and dig trenches, advance soil work step by step, and carry out the HIT-RUN-HIT tactics to the end.
show!
Your family has a lot of engineering talent. You can build columbines, cannons, and tanks. It’s the tortoise shell, and the caliber determines justice. If you’re not convinced, you can keep up with technology.
trench.
Adapt measures to local conditions, be flexible, and use your strengths to counter other people's weaknesses. There is no enemy that cannot be defeated.
Therefore, in ancient battles, it often happened that a small number defeated a large number, and that the weak defeated the strong were all lies, and anyone who said this was a liar.
Weakness is weak, strong is strong. If the weak can defeat the strong, what the hell are you doing? Just go to the battlefield and roll dice. Wouldn't it be beautiful to roll 20 to destroy the world?
Anduin Lothar also understands the principles explained hundreds of chapters ago.
Who wants to fight a grand army battle unless there is a huge advantage.
Unless they run out of ammunition and food, who would be willing to throw away their horses and horses and go on a desperate mission.
Unless there is no way to retreat, who is willing to have a fateful confrontation with the enemy? It's hypocritical.
However, at this moment, in the Burning Plains, I, Anduin Lothar, 388, clock in...
Uther, who had high hopes, let everyone go. It was agreed that in two days, two days, two days, and two days, the alliance soldiers who burned their own fortresses were in pain. Although the chasing tribes were in agony, this kind of attack would hurt ten thousand people and hurt eight thousand people. Things are really not easy to do.
The lone army of the Alliance has reached the end of its rope.
Lothar knew that Orgrim's life in the tribe was worse than his own. But so what?
Lothar knew that the tribe not only ran out of food for one day before the alliance. But so what?
Lothar knew that not only was there no food in the tribe, but the water source was also in question. But so what?
Lothar knew that the number of wolf cavalry in the tribe was less than half that of the alliance cavalry. But so what?
Lothar knew that the Horde was at its end. If the Alliance continued to pursue, an astonishing victory would be within reach...
But so what! ! !
I can't hold on anymore.
If real knight battles were like those described in novels, and if I could fight without sleep, without eating or drinking, for ten days and a half by shouting a few words of Holy Light, grant me strength, why would I need a quartermaster!
I really can't hold on any longer.
The orcs were at the end of their game. Even if Lothar still had two days of food and fodder, not to mention annihilating all the orcs, leaving two-thirds without any casualties.
But does Lothar have two days of food and grass?
No, not even a meal.
The worst thing is the fodder for the war horses. The hungry war horses are already overwhelmed, and the beans in the straw bags have been exhausted in repeated attacks.
Victory is so within reach, but dreams are as visible and intangible as the sun in the sky.
Lothar tried his best to calm down the turmoil in his heart and made the decision to gather people.
This is enough for the war.
If Uther is not contacted as soon as possible, hunger and cold will kill the brave Alliance soldiers.
This is not a fate that a brave man should face.
I have a great advantage. In Ironforge, there are still 100,000 troops ready to go. I have enough food and grass for 200,000 troops to consume for half a year, including bacon, sausages, beer, and clothing.
Going back means victory, I did not lose this battle.
Using all his strength to suppress the urge to fight to the death with the orcs, Lothar fulfilled the duties of a marshal.
The return of Alleria and Saidan Dathrohan brought good news that the Suicide Squad had successfully completed their mission. Turalyon's excited face and his growling stomach formed a sharp contrast.
"Take it and eat it."
Alleria handed over her ration bag. There were not many supplies left in the abandoned camp of the Altar of Storms, but they could temporarily relieve Turalyon's hunger.
"Take it and share it with everyone."
Turalyon responded to Alleria's kindness with a simple smile, but then handed the food to his lieutenant.
"General, you can eat. You consume the most physical strength. We..."
"This is an order!"
Unknowingly, Turalyon had established his own prestige within the alliance. The adjutant was a little entangled and moved, but in the end he said nothing more and left after saluting.
On the other side, after listening to the team's report, Lothar scolded them with great dissatisfaction.
"Stupid, narrow-minded, and self-righteous! Carlos's judgment is not wrong, it can even be called wise! What is the use of dozens of you people? How many orcs can you kill on the battlefield? Uther is blocked in Blackstone Mountain, all of us The reinforcements are blocked outside the gate. You are watching Carlos leading more than 20 people to open the tunnel of life for all of us, but you only want to come to this old guy like me? Stupid! Extremely stupid!!!"
No one said a word during Lothar's reprimand, just silently listening to the marshal's roar.
Lothar cursed for about three minutes, and his anger subsided first.
"Thank you, thank you. Then, just come back, just come back... Go down and rest, there are still tough battles to fight."
After appeasing everyone, more work awaited Lothar.
Assess battle damage, reorganize the organization, distribute supplies, and contact troops.
So far, on the battlefield of the Burning Plains, the Alliance can dispatch about 14,000 troops. This is the number after Turayan went to the Altar of Storms to mobilize the 2,000 cavalry.
Nature is fair when it comes to water sources. Water shortages not only trouble the tribes, but also the alliance.
Therefore, of the nominal 14,000 men in Lothar's hands, only about 4,000 cavalry were harassing the orcs on the front line. The remaining 10,000 were divided into hundreds of small teams and scattered around Lothar, agreeing to use the beacon as the signal to assemble. At other times, they each find water and food.
There is no way. What is the difference between keeping soldiers together after the logistics system collapses and committing suicide slowly?
What Lothar needs to do now is to designate a feasible retreat plan, gather the soldiers on the front line back without leaving a trace, and then open a way home.
Therefore, before Turalyon could say a few words to Alleria, he was assigned by Lothar again.
"Carry out one or two raids to slow down the tribe, give them the illusion that we will never give up, and then use the night to come back."
Lothar briefly pointed out what Turalyon needed to pay attention to, and then thrust a delicate metal pot into Turalyon's hand.
"Go early and come back early."
The young Turalyon wanted to say something, but when he saw Lothar's dry and cracked lips, he couldn't say anything. In the end, he could only nod solemnly and left with smoke and dust all over his body.
There was no wind that night. Apart from being hungry, I slept quite comfortably.
The next day, troops who went out for hunting returned to Lothar one after another, bringing all kinds of strange prey, which seemed to be edible or not.
Therefore, human beings still have huge potential. As long as they are willing to hunt, they can always get food.
It’s just this damn place called the Burning Plains…
It's not easy for Lothar to dampen everyone's enthusiasm. It's better than nothing. The calories that can be replenished by that little food are far less than the calories consumed during the hunting process. But it can't be stopped, or even explained. Morale and spirit are at a crossroads, which is countless times more terrible than hunger.
For a whole day, Lothar led the large army to retreat northward for about twenty miles without leaving a trace. Half of the food obtained by hunting was distributed to the messengers.
Without food, the Alliance's strong soldiers could hold on for a week, but without water, they would be finished in two days in this damn place like the Burning Steppes.
So the mages became water-making tools.
Looking at the longing faces, no matter how noble the master is, he can't say any words of rejection. He just rests silently, casts spells silently, then rests again, casts spells again, until he faints.
Although the situation was difficult, Lothar was very pleased that the soldiers still maintained high morale. This was not easy.
The situation in front of him made Lothar couldn't help but have a little fantasy. It would be great if Uther suddenly appeared and reinforcements suddenly arrived. A great victory would be at your fingertips. The war between the Alliance and the Horde would end within this year. Soldiers We can still go home for Winter Veil...
While dealing with military affairs, Lothar held on to this little fantasy and stayed up all night.
On the third day, bad news came.
"Marshal, it's bad, the tribe is eating people!"
Lothar recognized that the dusty clay figure in front of him was one of Turalyon's guards, and quickly poured out a small half cup from his water bag and handed it to him.
"Uh~~~~Ah~~~~~~~"
The guard had an expression of relief from smoking marijuana. He put the water glass aside, pursed his lips, suddenly lowered his face, and leaned close to Lothar's ear.
"Marshal, the orcs have started to eat human flesh, those beasts have started to eat humans! General Turalyon asked me to come back quickly to tell you that the situation has changed, so be prepared."
"You go down and rest, I understand."
Lothar patted the messenger on the shoulder, patted the ashes off his hand, and looked down at the ashes on half of his palms. It seemed that the clear black and white line was the battle line between the Alliance and the Horde.
Lothar fell into deep thought.
"Kilrogg is betraying you! Have your Blood Cave clan forgotten what glory is?"
Orgrim's anger was about to exceed the limits of reason.
"Great Chief, the patriarch never betrayed the tribe. The Gurubashi trolls launched a war against the tribe. The tribe leader did not escape, but chose a more difficult battlefield."
The one-eyed orc responded to the tribal chief's question in a nonchalant manner.
Orgrim understood that Kilrogg's choice was not wrong. Stranglethorn Vale, or the troll city of Zul'Gurub, was too close to the Dark Portal and too close to Elvin. And after the trolls in Zul'Gurub refused the tribe's solicitation, the two sides clashed several times. At the moment, the entire tribe relies on the Elwynn region for material supplies, and even needs blood transfusions from its hometown of Draenor. If the Gurubashi Troll breaks out of Stranglethorn Valley and cuts off the tribe's transportation and supply lines, it will be a big trouble.
Therefore, rationally, Orgrim agrees with Kilrogg's choice. Even in another time and place, Orgrim would not hesitate to use the most sincere words to praise Kilrogg and praise blood. Cave clan.
Just for now...
A feeling of betrayal filled Orgrim's heart.
"What I want are reinforcements, warriors from your Blood Cave Clan, not an envoy."
"It's really because the clan leader couldn't come that I came. Great Chief, everyone in the camp knows about this. Five days before your order arrived, the clan leader had already led the army. Everyone was indifferent to the troll invasion. Everyone is waiting and watching, using you as an excuse. Only the clan leader stands up. Great Chief, you cannot blame the clan leader."
The messenger of the Blood Cave Clan was neither humble nor arrogant, and Orgrim fell into deep thought.
"Why not mobilize another support force from the camp? Even if Kilrogg and your Blood Cave clan can't come, the tribe still has at least 80,000 warriors in the Burning Plains."
Orgrim asked in a low tone.
"Only you are the chief of the tribe."
The messenger knelt down on one knee, lowered his head, and expressed his surrender to Orgrim.
"The Blood Cave clan is not a despicable Forsaken. I will stay by your side and prove the glory of the Blood Cave Orcs with bloody battles."
Orgrim thought for a moment, and then said: "Then prove it to me."
After saying that, he waved to Kilrogg's envoy to leave.
When the messenger left, Orgrim immediately summoned his confidants and returned to the camp for the second time to bring in reinforcements.
After continuing to deal with some things, a subordinate came to Orgrim with a basin of mysterious broth with no visible raw materials.
The hungry Orgrim took a bite in surprise and asked, "Fresh meat?"
The orcs under his command did not dare to deceive the warchief and answered honestly: "It is human flesh."
"Hmm! Ah, oh..."
Orgrim looked thoughtfully at the wooden basin in his hand, and finally ate it all without any pretense.
The so-called fate is just the painful result after everyone makes a choice.
The league doesn't want to fight.
The tribe didn't want to fight.
The two families cannot sit together and negotiate terms.
What to do?
Beat the other person first so that the pain is gone, and then he will be able to leave safely.
At least that's what Anduin Lothar, Orgrim Doomhammer and their generals thought.
The final result was that no one could retreat, and the back-and-forth battle between the two sides continued for two more days.
The tribe is out of ammunition and food.
Alliance, drink water to stuff your teeth.
Orcs began to eat human corpses on a large scale.
Humans are relatively miserable. Orc meat corrupted by demon blood is very unpalatable, not to mention weakly toxic, and it also wears out teeth.
"No, procrastinating any longer is no longer a competition of willpower."
"Efforts must be concentrated to destroy this human army."
Anduin Lothar and Orgrim once again reached a consensus.
So on the Burning Plains battlefield where there were almost no secrets to hide, the Alliance and the Horde began to quickly gather their forces.
A decisive battle seems inevitable.
In terms of military strength, the alliance has 13,000 men, including more than 3,000 cavalry. However, the horses are short of food, and their combat effectiveness may be compromised. There are 10,000 infantry left, 4,000 are lightly wounded, and about 5,000 heavy infantry are in complete condition, which is the real core force of the alliance.
Looking at the orcs, there are less than 800 wolf cavalry. After gathering the troops, the number of warriors exceeds 20,000. However, excluding hard labor and serious injuries, the available combat population is about 15,000.
Judging from the comparison of paper data, the orcs have the advantage in terms of military strength. In terms of combat effectiveness, the orcs have an absolute advantage.
The only problem is food and water.
The tribe ran out of food one day earlier than the alliance. After two anxious days, the alliance's physical advantage had equalized or even slightly surpassed the tribe's single combat power gap.
There are only so many water sources in the Burning Plains, so the number of orcs has become a disadvantage. In terms of dehydration, the Horde is much more serious than the Alliance.
Talking about weapons and equipment, even if Orgrim brought with him all the elite orcs, they could not compare to Lothar, who had the backing of Ironforge and the entire human kingdom of Lordaeron. He burned down the war fortress and burned material supplies. Not an armored weapon. The Alliance has the upper hand in this regard.
After analyzing all kinds of data, the most astute analysts can only give a 50-50 answer to the battlefield.
We can't put it off any longer. If we put it off any longer, the outcome will be decided by God.
No one is willing to leave their fate to fate, not even the orcs, and even less so the humans.
War horses are cavalry's best friends, but victory is a soldier's highest desire.
More than a thousand weak horses were slaughtered on the eve of the decisive battle, and the human soldiers had a hearty meal of barbecue.
The number of the alliance's cavalry was reduced to less than two thousand, and their physical strength was restored to some extent.
The orcs also emptied all their savings and waited for the final battle.
That night, there were no night raids, no harassment, a peaceful night, but no one slept deeply.
The sky was slightly bright, and the sound of horns and war drums continued uninterrupted.
Arrangement of troops is not something that can be done with chess pieces like playing a game.
The Alliance and the Horde tacitly understood each other and started a head-counting game about five hundred meters apart.
Whoever finishes the count first and attacks first will have the advantage.
What Lothar arranged was the most classic hundred-man phalanx in mankind. The wall was made of bricks with a four-by-twenty-five hundred-man formation, with a total of two layers. The entire battle line was about two kilometers long. The array line is not thick enough, but it is long enough, which can effectively reduce the flank pressure caused by the tribe's numerical advantage. The cavalry was placed on the right wing, a classic left wing collapse tactic. But such tactics meant that the Alliance's left wing also had no shelter. Turalyon did not participate in the cavalry attack this time, but was placed on the most difficult left wing by Lothar. Also placed were Alleria and others. Lothar hoped that the heroes' superb personal martial arts could help the left wing persist more. Longer time——As long as it lasts longer than the tribe. Saidan Dathrohan and others were placed in the central army. These great warriors will play their role as great warriors on the front line of the meat grinder slaughterhouse.
Orgrim's troop formations are generally not much different from those of the Alliance. It is difficult to do anything fancy in such a decisive battle where one knows the basics and is forced to do so. Therefore, Orgrim's layout is also very simple, plain and practical. Taking the thousand-man team as a unit, the orcs formed a sharp formation and were divided into three major clusters. They planned to launch an offensive against the alliance's center, left and right flanks at the same time. Because of its numerical superiority, Orgrim did not make special arrangements to focus on which side, but evenly distributed its troops. The central charge cluster delayed the pace of the Alliance's central army, and the left-wing cluster was equipped with a large number of shields to deal with the impact of the Alliance cavalry. The soldiers on the right wing had the best preserved physical strength and were responsible for defeating the Union's left wing. As for the Wolf Cavalry, Orgrim hesitated and assigned it to the attack group on the right wing. After all, the number was too small and it would not be of much use in counterattacking the Alliance. In such a life-and-death battlefield, it is not wrong to think of the worst in everything, and Orgrim chose the safest solution.
The mobilization started at about five o'clock in the morning, and by about nine o'clock in the morning, the alliance and the tribe's arrays basically had a rough appearance, but no one launched an attack first.
On the battlefield, the most common battles involving hundreds of people and thousands of people are fought. Even a battle of 100,000 people is composed of countless small battles of one thousand, one hundred, and ten people. It is truly rare to see tens of thousands of brothers shoulder to shoulder.
The alliance's array line was shorter, only two kilometers long. In order to attack in three directions, the tribe's array line was stretched far apart, and the gap between the clusters was also larger, with a distance of four kilometers.
It is not an easy task to arrange an array over such a long length. Rehearsals and preparations for the military parade will take several weeks, not to mention that on the battlefield, nervousness will affect the actions of officers and soldiers.
Until about 11 o'clock, the Alliance took the lead in completing the formation of troops. As the commander's flag waved, the war drums began to beat the drumbeats of advancement. The soldiers in the phalanx began to advance step by step on the drumbeats.
Although the tribe was a little slower, the rough orcs didn't care too much about the neatness of the array. They just panted and waited for the chief's order.
The Union cavalry did not follow the advance of the array line. When the infantry phalanx began to advance, the cavalry slowly emerged from under the belly of the war horse, put on each other's armor, fixed the saddle, tightened the leather buckle, and drank some water to moisten their throats. It wasn't until the commander gave the signal that the cavalry climbed onto their saddles and began to form the team. A large part of the training content of the cavalry is the formation. The speed of the entire team of two thousand cavalry can completely crush the infantry square. The wide terrain of the Burning Plain does not add any other additional obstacles to the cavalry. In less than three minutes, the cavalry has already Completed the final preparations before departure.
When the Alliance pushed the array line to a distance of about two hundred meters away from the tribe, the advancing drum order stopped. The thin and dense drum beats were accompanied by the long and powerful neighing of the conch horn, telling all the Alliance soldiers that they were about to flee.
Originally, according to the normal process, Lothar should have pushed the troops forward fifty to eighty meters, and fired the bow and arrow for at least three rounds before talking about anything else. However, in this embarrassing decisive battle, the Alliance did not have extra bows, arrows and guns, and the tribe did not throw spears or axes. The scattered long-range projections required the infantry square to get out of the way. The input-output was not proportional, which simply made the command more difficult.
So Lothar and Orgrim abandoned this procedure unanimously.
The alliance's increasingly rapid drum beats stimulated the soldiers' senses, and the rush of adrenaline brought about feelings of heat and excitement. At Lothar's signal, the commander conveyed the flag message three times, and finally raised the red flag in his hand and stopped moving.
The drum beat suddenly stopped, and all the Union soldiers felt a sense of loss as if the stairs were empty, followed by the excitement of the Charge.
Turalyon was stunned on the left wing, looking confused. Charge? Shouldn't the right wing rush in and the left wing hold on, waiting for the cavalry to break the formation? Why is it a full-scale charge?
But the flag is the direction, and the trumpet is the order. Even if the trumpeter is nervous and blows the wrong order, the order must be carried out.
Turalyon let out a war cry, igniting the battlefield.
Was it a mistake?
Of course not. Lothar was riding a horse, standing on a high slope, looking at the formation of the tribe in the distance, thinking over and over again, and changed his plan.
We cannot fight a positional battle according to the conventional response. This is a decisive battle without a reserve team. If we follow the process of waiting for the orcs to launch a charge and the alliance relying on the formation to defend and counterattack, it is very likely that something will happen - they will be taken away in a wave.
The orcs' lineup is so wide that 20,000 orcs cannot fill a four-kilometer array line. To fill a four-kilometer array line, at least 50,000 orcs are needed.
First of all, if we rule out the option that the chief of the tribe is a fool, then what does the tribe want to do?
There is only one truth. The tribe wanted to use a large gap to make a detour, directly amplifying the disadvantage of the alliance's military strength, and relying on the advantage of the length of the array line to outflank and annihilate the alliance.
It’s nice to think that in this evenly matched battle, no one has any hidden back-up moves to use. Orgrim’s ability to lengthen the array lines is certainly beneficial, but the gaps between the array clusters are also a fatal flaw.
So after examining the battlefield, Lothar issued an order for the entire army to charge.
Seeing that the cavalry troops also began to accelerate, Lothar drew his sword and said to the guards: "Let's go, there is no need for a commander in this battle. Let those orcs see the power of Stormwind City!"
The members of the Iron Horse Brotherhood listened to Lothar's plain words, and every muscular man burst into tears with excitement. It's been too long, it's been too long, it's been too long, so long that the name Stormwind City even sounded a bit strange. Stranger.
"For the Alliance!"
"For Anduin Lothar!"
"Long live Stormwind!"
Although the Alliance took the lead in launching the charge, Orgrim was not in a hurry. Humans are far inferior to those ogres in the Goria Empire. If the warriors of the tribe were allowed to eat, drink, and sleep for three days before starting a battle, Orgrim believed that the orcs could turn the battlefield into a slaughterhouse with just one charge.
Hungry, trapped, so what, how could humans living in a comfortable and prosperous world like Azeroth understand the suffering that the orcs endured in Draenor in order to survive.
Only such a harsh environment could give birth to a great race like the orcs.
So when the alliance's front line moved about fifty meters, Orgrim signaled the trumpeter to blow the counterattack sound.
"WaggggggggggggggggggggggggggggH!!!"
Amidst the sound of horns, the blood of the orcs burned.
A big mess has begun.
The battlefield of the decisive battle is not the Colosseum or the Arena, and the vanguard of the Alliance and the Horde are not even drunkards. In fact, it is a half-hour fierce fighting. The casualties on the front line are pitiful. Only the unlucky ones and cowards lost their lives. , with the protection of teammates, no matter whether the warriors of the Alliance or the Horde, the only enemies they have to deal with are the frontal enemies. Both sides are trying to tear apart the opposing front lines so as to create a gap and kill them.
In this way, there are human positions on the left and right, the ax head is not round, the sword cannot be thrown away, and the weapons are all hit by shields. What a mess!
The first wave of charges by the alliance's cavalry and the orcs' wolf cavalry both achieved good results. The orcs' left wing was barely penetrated, and Turalyon's best efforts to stabilize the formation could not stop the wolf knights from wanting to die. The charge of ambition.
But there are no ifs on the battlefield.
The number of wolf cavalry was a disadvantage. After the wolf cavalry died in battle, the wargs continued to bite with red eyes until they died.
No matter how elite the alliance's cavalry is, the lack of physical strength of the horses is a fact that cannot be changed by one's own will. A charge disrupted the left wing of the orcs, and half of the horses were unable to run anymore. The knights gave up the outstretched hands of their comrades and threw away their lances. He dismounted, drew his sword, and cut a retreat path for his teammates who could still fight.
Classic tactics, classic layout, classic results.
The left wings of the Alliance and the Horde were also in chaos. The stalemate of the central army could not withstand the advance of the right wing and the erosion of the left wing. The gaps between the phalanxes became wider and wider. By about 1 o'clock in the afternoon, the most complete central formation also collapsed, and the entire battlefield was no longer open. There is no difference between the front and the left. No matter the tribe or the alliance, they all face the same dilemma - enemies are everywhere.
Except for the central infantry phalanx, which still had a barely adequate array, there were no military tactics elsewhere. The fight between humans and orcs turned into a competition of physical strength and martial arts.
In layman's terms, Anduin Lothar and Orgrim Doomhammer, the two commanders who represented the most outstanding military strategists of the Alliance and the Horde, turned a decisive battle into a terrible battle.
A bad battle with no commanding skills at all.
Killing a human/orc is much harder than you think.
Whether it is Orgrim's troops or Lothar's alliance elites, they are all madmen who have been baptized by war.
fear? Cringe?
No, as long as I have comrades by my side, I will never be alone.
The hand is broken, there is another one, the leg is broken, and he can cut people while lying down. There is nothing left except the teeth.
Most of the Alliance soldiers who still had shields in their hands chose to give up their swords and hold shields with both hands to block fatal attacks for their teammates. Even if the bones of their arms were shattered by the orcs' powerful slashes, they would never give up.
The morale of the orcs is not inferior to that of humans. Starting from Gul'dan's betrayal, the tribe with high morale has lost consecutive battles.
Is it our fault?
Even after experiencing difficulties, these orc warriors are still eager to fight and glory, and will never retreat until the blood is drained.
It was these two armies without any structure that displayed a formidable momentum.
At least Nefarian, who was firmly on the throne in Blackrock Mountain, expressed his sincere admiration.
"Good fight."
The battlefield, and only the battlefield, can show the value of heroes.
Turalyon could no longer remember how many orc centurions he had killed. They were truly honorable and terrifying enemies. In order to protect Alleria, Turalyon used his breastplate to take an ax from the orc. Although the light-cast armor was of excellent quality and was not split open by the orc's axe, the huge force still penetrated the muscles and bones through the metal and injured the internal organs.
Turalyon could no longer lift his left hand higher than his shoulder.
But so what, I still have my right hand, and I can still hold the sword.
The orcs charged so hard that they had already penetrated the alliance's formation on the left wing.
But the fanaticism on the battlefield is not a magic weapon for victory. Turalyon, who insisted on fighting, inadvertently found that there were no enemies in front of him. In other words, Turalyon and the men around him held on to the Horde's onslaught and were already on the far left side of the battlefield.
This discovery made Turalyon smile bitterly. He took the time to take a few breaths and looked at the wolf carcasses on the ground. Turalyon cut off a small piece of warg rib meat and stuffed it into his mouth regardless of the stench. After chewing it twice, he swallowed it whole.
what to do?
Gather the brothers and fight in the middle!
By around four o'clock in the afternoon, the sun's rays had begun to recede. Both humans and orcs were exhausted. The warriors who were still fighting all formed battle groups of different sizes.
Rest, both the Alliance and the Horde need to rest. If you take a few more breaths, you can chop two more axes and stab a few more knives.
The result of chaotic fighting is a huge consumption of physical strength. Blind battlefield fanaticism can also be expressed in another word: incompetent rage.
The soldiers had forgotten the training in the past. All they could see was fighting and fighting, and all they could think about was hacking and slashing. As a result, they fought for several hours and were exhausted in the end.
The entire battlefield has entered a period of exhaustion. If any side has a reserve team of a thousand people at this time, it may be able to sweep the battlefield.
Compared with the fatigue of the entire battlefield, the battle in the central square was as fierce as ever.
Because the formation was not disrupted from beginning to end, the alliance soldiers had already taken four or five turns under the command of the officer. Even though their arms were sore and their legs were numb, the originally light armor seemed so heavy now, and the leather straps were sore and painful when they dug into their flesh, the more than two thousand Alliance soldiers still maintained the most basic combat effectiveness.
Lothar is among them.
It can also be said that precisely because of the existence of the central phalanx, the left-wing alliance was not completely overwhelmed by the tribes.
At this moment, apart from those large and small tired battle groups, there were only the Alliance's right-wing offensive group, which was at the end of its offensive, and the central infantry phalanx of orcs and humans surrounded from all sides on the entire battlefield.
Therefore, the encounter between Orgrim and Lothar on the battlefield was not a joke of fate at all. It was just the inevitable choice of the battlefield situation surrounded by the soldiers surrounding them.
The Horde's right wing group penetrated Turalyon's defense line, and the Alliance's right wing also broke out a river of blood, but the two sides were actually similar. There were not many orcs who broke through the layers of resistance and reached the central infantry square. The alliance's right wing was also blocked by the tribe's skirmishers, without the ability to return reinforcements. In the center of the battlefield, the outcome of the war was decided by the last two organized troops of the Alliance and the Horde.
The central infantry phalanx with the Brotherhood of the Iron Horse as the main force, and Orgrim's Blackstone Orc Corps.
As the last two troops with command and organization, Lothar and Orgrim fought the most beautiful battle in this terrible battle.
The alliance's large circular phalanx versus the tribe's centurion raid made the final battle before sunset exciting and exciting.
Fast-paced offensive and defensive transitions, seizing the disjointedness in the opponent's scheduling. In this thousand-man level battle, Lothar and Orgrim showed superb command skills.
In the end, Orgrim showed his "back-stabber" side, pretending to abandon Lothar's central infantry phalanx, intending to move on to annihilate other alliance skirmishers, forcing Lothar to fabricate a pursuit and then fight back. , finally breaking the alliance's final formation.
But the only thing Orgrim missed was that the soldiers around Lothar were all fierce men about the same size as orcs. Even if they lose the protection of the formation, they are still strong men in single combat.
Orgrim has lost count of how many times he has swung the Doomhammer today.
The artifact will not be damaged by the collision of mortal soldiers, but the orcs will be exhausted by the continuous fighting.
With the protection of the clan's soldiers and sword masters around him, and the fact that Orgrim's combat power was as high as several million in his prime, the chief of the tribe was able to stop and observe for a moment in the chaotic battlefield.
Soon, Lothar, who held a sword in his hand despite his simple armor, caught Orgrim's attention.
Do you think you can’t be found if you hide in the crowd? useless. You are such a charming man, no matter where you are, you are like a firefly in the dark, so bright and outstanding. Your melancholy eyes, sad beard, Mediterranean hairstyle, amazing swordsmanship, and of course the great royal sword all attracted me deeply. The hunger from my blood tells me that man is worth fighting.
Orgrim quickly approached Lothar and used his strength to tell the Alliance why he became the chief of the tribe.
Block, hang the handle, pull the forehand and hammer the backhand, and an alliance falls.
Using bare hands, he kicked the chin with his legs, picked up the weapon, and another alliance fell.
Orgrim, who was at the peak of his life, used his own bravery to interpret the power and terror of the orcs.
Lothar soon discovered Orgrim as well.
The iconic jet-black plate armor and the uniquely shaped Doomhammer also betrayed Orgrim deeply.
Generalissimo of the Alliance!
The chief of the tribe!
Lothar, who has been trapped in machinations for a long time, decided to let everyone recall the fear of the Lion of Stormwind City, and let everyone understand that Anduin Lothar's title back then - the most powerful man in mankind!
Pushing away the shield guard in front of him, Lothar faced the charging Orgrim without fear.
Although he is nearly ten centimeters shorter than Orgrim, Lothar's rich combat experience and outstanding martial arts skills allowed him to not lose at all in the first collision of weapons.
Even if Orgrim had the upper hand in terms of strength, Lothar's more reasonable posture and body posture gave him a small advantage.
Orgrim took three steps back, and Lothar stabilized his figure in one step, which is proof of this.
In the battlefield, Lothar took advantage of the situation and made a jumping chop with his sword in both hands. Orgrim, whose footing was not stable, had to raise his arms to parry. Orgrim almost let go of the artifact due to the shock from the Doomhammer, and leaned back.
But it is not how a ruthless person leads a tribe. The warchief just used his shoulder armor to take Lothar's sword blow. He raised his hand to block Lothar's decapitated sword with the hammer handle, and hit him with a fierce side kick with standard posture. Lothar's belly.
Unfortunately, just when Orgrim wanted to pursue the victory, the shield guard Lothar had pushed away had already stepped forward and blocked the Alliance Marshal.
The Doomhammer shattered the shield with the Alliance emblem with the aura of destruction. The shield guard with twisted arms still did not want to give in. Orgrim respected him as a man and was ready to take his life. Lothar stood up again and used no Such a smooth posture blocked this fatal attack.
Their eyes met, and Orgrim was full of fighting spirit. Out of respect for the warrior, he stopped and took a step back. When Lothar got around the fallen shield guard, the battle began again.
Anyone who can fight can call himself a warrior.
Anyone can be a brave person as long as they have courage.
But when warriors meet, they have to differentiate themselves.
On the battlefield of life-and-death battles, glory is about life and death. There is no such thing as generals versus small soldiers to watch a show. Regardless of the alliance or the tribe, as long as they seize the opportunity, there is no one who can't do anything wrong. But Orgrim and Lothar were far superior to the surrounding soldiers in both martial arts and tactics. Regardless of human soldiers or orc warriors, when they fought with chiefs to fight with marshals, they lacked arms and legs lightly, and they would die.
Soon, the battle between Ogrim and Losa became a black hole in the battlefield. While the guards blocked the enemy, they tried to intervene in the battle. The soldiers went to the leader.
Outside the war circle, the corpse piled up into an irregular circle.
The sky has become dark, and the visibility has gradually decreased. This decisive battle has been beaten from dawn to dusk.
According to the previous war experience, the tacit recipients of the two sides will receive troops and will fight again tomorrow.
But the commander who can issue this order is at this moment.
The forty -two -year -old Audin Losa and the twenty -four -year -old Ogrim Destroyed Hammer, the Marshal of the Alliance and the chief of the tribe, two men who also stood at the top of power and power, used war hammers. The strongest sound of the world collided with the sword.
However, time is a good medicine to cure the pain and the poison that murder the strong men.
The fact that Losa is unwilling to admit or can't erase is that he is old. If he has a child, the child's child can call him grandpa.
The hot war will not wipe out the fatigue of the body. After the death of the Storm Kingdom, the hard work of the Storm Kingdom also lost Losa's physical function. He is no longer the Blizzard lion that can run for eight hundred miles a day and night.
Ogrim's strength was also exhausted, but Losa knew that before the orc in front of him, he must have been physically weak.
Can't continue.
Losa suddenly woke up from the duel's fanaticism, thinking of the identity of his alliance commander.
Therefore, Losa decided to go to danger, deliberately selling a flaw to change his life, and ended Ogrim's life.
Speaking of doing it, Losa seduced Ogrim to compete for strength. When the strength was maximized, Losa suddenly unloaded, and the royal sword turned off a direction and switched to the ground. Ogrim stabilized his backhand to hit Losa's waist ribs. Losa's backhand sword pulled the sword to the gap of the dark plate armor under Ogrim's armpit.
For the wound, the battlefield veterans will be the best play, and Ogrim is no exception.
But Ogrim did not expect that Losa would be such a change.
If it is a general war hammer, Losa should be successful, but the hammer of destruction is not a general war hammer. It is probably not to change his life with wounds, but to change his life.
He died under this man, not aggrieved!
Ogrim had no intention of saving his life and smashed his whole body.
Losa has been ready to eat a hammer with soft meat around his waist, aiming at Ogrim's armpit, and preparing to pierce his heart.
Losa took pain on his waist, spit out the old blood, and his arm moved, but the sword tip was stabbed into the gap of Ogrim's dark plate armor.
Done!
When Losa was pleased, the accident happened.
In the continuous impact of the Destroyed Hammer, the sword of the Great Royal Sword was scarred, and the collision with the paint with the paint of the paint was like the last straw that crushed the camel.
Although Losa inserted the tip of the sword into Ogrim's armpit more than ten centimeters, this depth was not enough to kill an orc of more than two meters tall.
The broken sword of the Great Royal Family caused Lomaro to lose balance and fell to the ground. Ogrim was stabbed by the broken blade and was heartbroken.
In the direction of Blackstone Mountain, a large number of torches lit away in the distance.
After a few hundred meters apart, Turajan looked at Lomar's fell to the ground, anxious, and shouted "The reinforcements are here!"
Ogrim covered the wound, heard the cheers of the league, looking at the light of the distance in the distance, his face was ashamed.
Whether it is the league's reinforcements or Read black hands to pick up the cheap, you lose.
"retreat."
The chief of the tribe issued an order unwillingly.
