Azeroth Monster Manual

PS: Copying chapters. I was late coming back from overtime. I'll continue to pay off the debt tomorrow...

Just as the Frostmane Trolls launched their massive invasion, the originally tranquil farmland became wrinkled like a crumpled canvas, until a faint blue arcane light flashed, and everything changed.

In the dim moonlight, three rows of well-equipped dwarven riflemen were arranged in a ladder shape in front of the field ridges, with heavily armored infantry poised to charge on their flanks.

Bartok instinctively wanted to shout, but it was too late.

"3!

2!

1!

First row, fire!"

As the signalman's voice rang out, the first row of riflemen had already squatted down the moment the countdown began. When the signalman uttered the last number, a neat and uniform roar instantly sounded.

Bartok watched with wide, bloodshot eyes as several guards beside him fell, unable to dodge, and let out an angry roar. But before he could react, the dwarven signalman's voice rang out again.

"Second row, prepare!

3!

2!

1!

Second row, fire!"

The riflemen who had fired in the first row immediately retreated upon receiving the signal, standing in the last row, and began to calibrate their guns and reload ammunition. The riflemen who were originally standing in the second row squatted down and began to fire.

Then the third row, and so on, again and again. Such a close distance was even more advantageous for the exceptionally elite Khaz Modan riflemen. Facing the blue tide at close range, they didn't need to aim at all. They only needed to reload ammunition and pull the trigger, and wave after wave of trolls would die.

The three rows of riflemen maintained a stable and rapid pace, shooting and killing the charging Frostmane Trolls, but as time passed, the disadvantages of the riflemen also became apparent.

Their numbers and ammunition were not enough to sustain them in this large-scale battlefield of over 80,000 people.

Bartok roared and threw out two throwing axes, accurately killing two riflemen who were still reloading ammunition. Looking at the field ridge close at hand, the berserker's mouth revealed a crazy smile.

… …

"Commander!"

Muradin looked at the approaching blue tide and couldn't help but feel a little anxious.

"Too close."

Aier stood leisurely at the rear of the army, watching the battle in the field.

"But those trash are less than fifty meters away from us!"

Brann lowered the telescope in his hand and screamed exaggeratedly at Aier. But the young man seemed not to have heard, and actually closed his eyes, letting the two Bronzebeard princes complain anxiously beside him.

More than ten seconds later, Aier suddenly opened his eyes and let out a clear shout.

"Riflemen retreat, first group of heavy infantry, shields up! Stoneform!"

Under the effect of the amplifying magic, Aier's voice clearly reached everyone's ears, even the Frostmane Trolls who were about to approach heard it clearly.

Just as the trolls were wondering what the specific effect of this order was, the heavy infantry who were originally standing on the flanks had already raised their shields and activated Stoneform. But strangely, the riflemen who were still shooting just now had disappeared, leaving a space to enter the farm.

At this time, Bartok had no time to care about anything else. Facing the heavily armored infantry defending with shields, he raised the battle axe in his hand and delivered a powerful and deadly strike, but unfortunately, only a deep mark was left on the heavy infantry's shield, and the heavy infantry behind the shield remained unmoved.

Streaks of dark, ink-like color shone on the bodies of all the dwarven soldiers. That was the color of rock, and even more so, the dwarven racial talent - Stoneform.

[Stoneform]: During the effect of Stoneform, you will be immune to all bleeding and poisoning effects. You will become a moving statue, armor increased, movement speed reduced. Note: After the time ends, all damage received will be returned to the flesh and blood body.

Stoneform is also jokingly called Stone Skin by the dwarves. It is a secondary form of [Avatar]. Different from Avatar, Stoneform has lower requirements for the dwarves' own qualities and bloodline. This also leads to the fact that as long as they are adult dwarves, they can basically activate this ability in their bloodline.

But the dwarves rarely use this racial talent. The reason is nothing else. After transforming into Stoneform, although the defense is greatly improved, the drawbacks are also extremely obvious. After transforming into Stoneform, the dwarves' own speed (not only movement speed, but also speed in all aspects) will be greatly reduced. Some individuals with poor talent may even experience a situation where they cannot move.

No one wants to be a target, and the martial dwarves will not do this.

… …

Bartok angrily pulled his long-handled battle axe back from the dwarven infantry's shield. He roared unwillingly, but it was to no avail.

The rest of the Frostmane Trolls were even more不堪. The 'weapons' in their hands could not even leave any traces on the dwarven infantry's shields. In this way, when more and more trolls discovered that their attacks were ineffective, they naturally set their sights on the open space leading to the farm left behind after the riflemen left.

A ragged Frostmane 'warrior' like a refugee stood blankly in place. The wooden stick in his hand had shattered when attacking the dwarven infantry. At this time, he was staring blankly at the dark farmland illuminated by the moonlight, looking at the vaguely visible vegetables and fruits.

The bursts of pain coming from his stomach made him sober up. Wiping away the saliva dripping from his fangs, he uncontrollably ran towards the only open space leading to the farm.

Reason had long since gone away. At this moment, the only two words hovering in his mind were food.

"Bastard! What are you doing!"

As soon as the berserker turned his head, he saw the Frostmane soldiers running towards the farm. He wanted to reprimand them, but found that the soldiers who were originally concentrated around him were as if they were enchanted, shouting words like food, and rushing to the farm together with the 'deserter'.

"Come back! All of you, come back!"

Bartok instinctively felt that something was wrong. The deployment of these dwarves' troops was really too strange.

Except for the riflemen who had already 'run away', only these mere thousands of heavy infantry were blocking them. Moreover, these thousands of heavy infantry were so well-equipped, but they had no intention of attacking their own side, but stood in front of them like smelly rocks.

If all of this was okay, it could be understood that the dwarves only had so many troops stubbornly resisting and waiting for support, but these infantry actually left an open space in the middle of the battle formation leading to the farm, which was a bit unreasonable.

As the second-in-command of the clan, Bartok naturally had a mind far superior to his clansmen. Looking at all this in front of him, he naturally understood that this was a trap set by the enemy.

If anyone knows the Bronzebeard dwarves best, it would naturally be their old rivals, the Frostmane trolls. Through centuries of constant conflict and friction, both sides have figured out each other's strengths and weaknesses.

And the dwarves' stone-like formations were naturally understood by the Frostmane trolls. Thus, Bartok prepared to meet the changing circumstances with constancy, deciding to devour these thousands of motionless 'iron turtles' before considering anything else.

Bartok believed he could control his tribe and army well. But he overlooked one thing.

The cold, fatigue, and mental stress were nothing compared to the one thing even the toughest man couldn't endure: hunger. Coupled with the overnight trek through mountains and rivers, the trolls' energy had been completely exhausted. Under this double torment, even the bloodthirsty and war-loving Frostmane trolls were almost reduced to weaklings.

At this moment, Bartok desperately needed a victory, one that could make his soldiers forget their hunger and fatigue.

But the thousands of 'iron turtles' 'blocking' their path shattered Bartok's dream, and the soldiers swarming towards the farm were the last chip in burying the Frostmane tribe.

…

On the other side, watching the endless stream of Frostmane trolls pouring into the farm, a joyful smile finally appeared on the slightly tired face of the young man.

"A surge of energy, then decline, then exhaustion. The ancients did not deceive me."

Saying something that baffled everyone, Ayr handed the telescope back to Brian.

"Second and third heavy infantry groups, listen to my command!"

The young man's roar startled the Frostmane trolls who were frantically plundering crops. Before they could react, Ayr's voice rang out again.

This work is organized and uploaded by ~ ~

"Charge!"

As Ayr's voice fell, a series of shouts suddenly echoed from both sides of the dark farm. Under the moonlight, the armor gleamed, and well-organized dwarven heavy infantry charged from both sides of the farm.

With the advancement of the dwarven infantry on both sides and the unyielding defense of the

"Romans, Kyle, you can end the illusion now. Everyone, follow me and kill these blue-skinned trash!"

Saying this, Ayr took the lead and flew towards the center of the farm, closely followed by the Hemet and Muradin brothers, who were already eager to fight.

The two Archmages exchanged glances and simultaneously ended the illusion's energy supply, flickering and entering the battlefield.

Behind the legendary combat power were the dwarven riflemen who had already completed their formation and the city defense troops who had just arrived and only rested for a moment.

Although the overall quality of this city defense army was poor and the number of people was small, they had the least pressure, all because Master Ayr, who was famous in the Eastern Kingdom, was at the forefront.

…

The dwarves' shouts of killing, the Frostmane trolls' cries for mercy and angry curses, and the occasional flashes of magical light, with the three Archmages joining forces and the encirclement of 30,000 troops, even if the trolls had a numerical advantage, they could not change the desperate situation they were now facing.

Watching his tribesmen and soldiers fall screaming, Bartok felt his heart bleeding. A dim light flickered in his bloodshot eyes. He knew that this battle, or rather, massacre, was more appropriate.

After this failed raid, the Frostmane clan of Khaz Modan might really be destroyed in his hands.

"Warlord, let's go!"

A strong Frostmane guard wanted to drag Bartok away, but was pushed away by the berserker. Just as Bartok was preparing to fight to the death, a group of guards dragged him back.

"Warlord! It'll be too late if we don't leave!"

Seeing more and more people rushing towards him, the fire of hope that had been extinguished was ignited again. He stomped his foot fiercely, spat out a mouthful of blood-stained saliva, and roared loudly:

"Go!"

…

Ayr watched the last Frostmane troll whose head was blown off by a musket, and casually extinguished the shimmering azure flame in his hand.

"Clean up the battlefield, count the casualties, and collect the bodies of our comrades."

After issuing such an order, Ayr walked alone towards the outskirts of the farm.

"Lord Ayr."

Hemet wrung the blood from his beard, laughed loudly, and came to Ayr's side. He was about to boast about how brave he had been just now when he was interrupted by the young man's gesture.

"Shh!"

The young man twitched his nose and went in one direction, and Hemet, suddenly realizing, quickly followed in his footsteps.

[Super Olfactory Sense] A skill that was almost forgotten, Ayr finally used it again on this day, not for anything else, but to track down the troll leader who had just escaped.

The heavy smell of blood made Ayr frown. It wasn't until he was far away from the battlefield that this pungent smell slightly dissipated.

Sniffing the remaining smell of blood in the air and the unique sweat smell of the Frostmane trolls, Ayr and Hemet tracked along a hidden path.

Not to mention whether Ayr and the old dwarf's tracking path was smooth, the gryphon squadron originally responsible for scouting the Gor'lok Quarry noticed some clues under Kurdran's leadership.

Two hours ago, just before the two sides broke out in war, Kurdran had ridden Skyre around the sky above the Gor'lok Quarry several times.

In order to better complete the order issued by Ayr, Kurdran divided the fifteen gryphon knights under his command into three groups of five, taking turns to be responsible for the detection of the Gor'lok Quarry.

Kurdran rode Skyre alone towards the surrounding mountains.

Although Kurdran's political awareness and grasp of the overall situation were not as talented as Falstad, it must be mentioned that Kurdran, who had been wandering in the war for many years, had developed excellent military skills and a keen sense of war.

In his opinion, those Frostmane trolls could not have appeared out of thin air. The reason why they were able to cross mountains and ridges to reach the Frostmane Ridge (Pass), which is known as the copper wall and iron wall, must have a hidden path.

In this way, one person and one gryphon flew along the edge of the mountain range.

The long-term high-load flight made Skyre a little overwhelmed, but it still gritted its teeth and persisted, because this psychic gryphon understood its master's situation at this time.

Kurdran stroked its head distressedly, constantly apologizing in a low voice.

Just then, a biting cold wind blew, causing Skyre to 'stumble'. Kurdran shivered from the cold. He was about to untie the cloak behind him and put it on Skyre when a flash of lightning suddenly lit up in his heart.

"Frostmane Ridge has a basin structure. How could the cold current blow out from the middle of the mountain range, unless…"

Thinking of this, Kurdran whistled excitedly, and Skyre instantly understood what its master meant, and just circled and flew to the mountain range that had just passed.