Chapter 656

Chapter 656: The Missing Orcs

The afternoon in the Bartol Mountains was cool and clear. Jesse stood on a hillside, gazing into the distance, enjoying this rare moment when he didn’t have to rush to do anything important. Below, a large group of Dragonmaw Orcs searched through the mountains and valleys, with young dragons flying overhead. He watched them hustle back and forth, his mind calm.

Molofeel leaned against Jesse, her face always smiling as she silently watched the Orcs come and go.

Last night, a patrol of six Dragonmaw had gone missing, with no trace of them found. It was hard to tell if the Orcs here were looking for the missing ones or for the killer.

As the sun started to set, deep shadows spread over the hillside. Suddenly, angry shouts nearby broke the quiet.

Jesse looked up and saw Nekros grabbing his son’s neck, his white hair flying as he yelled, spittle spraying. Young Nek’rosh’s expression showed his father was saying harsh things.

While scolding, Nekros must have noticed Jesse watching. He glared over, shoved the strong young Orc aside, and limped down the hill on his staff to face Jesse.

He grabbed Jesse’s robe collar with one hand and shouted, "It’s your trickery! You’re behind this!" Jesse calmly asked, "Did you find out it was the Blackrock Orcs?"

"Don’t act innocent in front of me," Nekros tightened his grip, demanding, "You just arrived at Grim Batol yesterday, and now I’ve lost a patrol. What a coincidence!"

The guy was incredibly strong, almost lifting Jesse off the ground. Jesse looked down at the Warlord’s scarred wrist and said, "The Great Chief sent me urgently to Grim Batol because he saw danger coming, to stop things from getting worse. You’ve got it backwards."

Nekros snarled, his yellow fangs jutting out so far they nearly touched his nose. After a moment, he let go and stepped back.

Jesse straightened his clothes and asked, "Have you found out who did it?"

Nekros coughed and replied, "Still looking. Our patrollers and dragon riders are working hard… I won’t let anyone kill and leave easily. Whoever it is must die here!"

"Maybe deserters," Jesse said, looking into the distance. "Orcs came from Lordaeron and Khaz Modan to Grim Batol, so some might leave too. That’s normal."

Hearing this, Nekros exploded, "We found blood! Dragonmaw blood! They were killed! Outsider, are you insulting my clan? Which clan are you from? I need to know if your clan values honor like us. Maybe you serve Blackrock Spire, or you’re the Great Chief’s right hand, but you’re not Blackrock Clan! Your skin and accent are different! A Blackrock wouldn’t talk like that! Tell me your clan!"

"Shadowmoon," Jesse said.

At "Shadowmoon," Nekros paused. That was the clan of Ner’zhul, the real Great Chief beyond the Dark Portal, and Teron Gorefiend’s clan. Many in it were in the Shadow Council, making it mysterious even in the Horde.

Jesse knew his Orcish wasn’t as smooth as a true Blackrock Orc’s, so he made up a simple, hard-to-disprove story. In Azeroth, no Shadowmoon clan members were left; if any, they hid in corners and wouldn’t expose him.

Before learning dark magic from Gul’dan, the Shadowmoon clan followed ancient shaman ways. The Dragonmaw’s Great Chief Zuluhed was an old, wise shaman. If he were here, he might see through Jesse’s trick. But Jesse doubted Nekros, a warrior turned warlock, knew much about the secretive Shadowmoon clan.

Still, Nekros was suspicious, so Jesse had other explanations ready, though they weren’t needed now.

The Warlord didn’t ask more, and his face lost its earlier aggression.

He could probably sense lies through emotions like a succubus, but Jesse was good at that too—even Deathwing couldn’t see through his lies.

"Now you know, I can’t accept the Horde failing completely," Jesse warned. "I won’t let your pride or your pointless hatred for black dragons ruin my plan to help the Great Chief reopen the Dark Portal. Your Dragonmaw clan might stay here forever, but I can’t. I must go back to Draenor, to Shadowmoon Valley, my home, even if demons destroyed it."

"So, will you keep watching them search uselessly till dark, or ask for my help?"

Jesse finished, holding Gorefiend’s magic wand, his eyes fixed on the slope below.

"Then show me what you’ve got."

Nekros leaned on his staff and moved aside. Jesse glanced at him and walked downhill.

At the spot where the Dragonmaw Orcs found blood, Jesse looked around. He had to admit Greed and Vereesa took "leave no trace" literally. Only a few blood spots on grass and some bloody dirt far off—nothing else.

With so many Dragonmaw Orcs searching everywhere, not even a body was found?

But thinking of Vereesa’s experience with trolls in Quel’Thalas, it made sense. Trolls were better trackers than Orcs, so a ranger who handled them could outwit Orcs easily.

"Now you’ve seen it, Yulok, who do you think did it?" Nekros asked, smirking.

Jesse scanned the area and said, "Could be the Red Dragons? Are you sure every Red Dragon in Grim Batol obeys you? To be this clean with no bodies… only flying dragons snatching them for food makes sense."

"Ridiculous! Grim Batol’s control over Red Dragons was tested in war," Nekros spat through gritted teeth, but he clearly wavered.

Molofeel smiled at Jesse—a real smile, not a succubus’s fake one.

Jesse knew what she meant: Nekros was doubting himself more and more. Fine, the main event hadn’t started yet.