Chapter 63

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Chapter 063: Wanderer

Thrall?

Thrall is the son of the former chief of the Frostwolf Clan, and when he grows up, he becomes the Great Chief of the entire tribe. But right now, he is not even 10 years old. Who knows him?

And the name Thrall is given by humans, it’s a common language name that Orcs definitely wouldn’t know.

His original name was Go’el, but this name was chosen secretly by his parents. How many people in the Frostwolf tribe knew about it so early?

Yes, Thrall’s father, the former chief of the Frostwolf Clan, was Durotan!

Jesse quickly pronounced Durotan in several similar ways, this time Orcs finally understood.

"Durotan… Durotan!"

Luckily, this simple name Durotan is similar in Orcish language and English or Chinese. Jesse took the opportunity and said, "The son of Durotan, alive!"

"The son of Durotan." The Orc was stunned, then whispered after a while, "Drek’Thar, I understand now, Drek’Thar."

Earlier, the Orc just didn’t realize it was a name. When he pronounced Drek’Thar in Orcish, he stressed the "Tar" part heavily, while the "Drek" part sounded light and brief, like a simple prefix. Jesse pronounced it completely the other way round, so no wonder the other person didn’t understand immediately. Perhaps Jesse’s pronunciation of Drek’Thar carried a different meaning in Orcish.

Thankfully, it’s not a bad word.

"Where is the son of Durotan?" asked the Orc.

"The son of Durotan, Durnholde," Jesse said.

He used a stick to draw a simple outline of the Eastern Continent on the sand, then pointed to the locations of "Alterac Valley" and "Durnholde."

"Durnholde…" The Orc dropped his dagger to the ground, raised his hands to show he meant no harm but wanted to get closer.

But Jesse knew that even without a weapon, this guy could easily harm him with just his fists, so what good was throwing the dagger?

However, in this situation, there weren’t many other choices, after all, he couldn’t just chop off his hands.

The Orc dragged his injured belly closer to take a look at the simple map Jesse had drawn and nodded slowly.

The distance between the two was so close that Jesse could clearly smell a demonic sulfur scent coming from him, a smell that only an Orc who had consumed demon blood would have, not even washed away by the rain, surely.

At that moment, Orc looked up, pointing at Jesse’s stick and said, "Teron’gor."

Jesse’s guess was right, the Orcs all knew that this stick belonged to Teron Gorefiend.

He tossed the stick aside, then bent down to pick it up, and said in Orcish, "Forest."

Then he pointed towards the distant southeast direction of Elwynn. The Orc nodded understandingly, then looked towards the imp who had just sat up, coughing incessantly.

"Distrust, warlock, demon."

His distrust was spoken in common language, while warlock and demon were said in Orcish. Jesse surprisingly understood everything.

Jesse pointed to the vein protruding on his arm, and said in Orcish, "Demon, alive."

Then he pointed to his chest and said, "Warlock, alive."

The expression on the Orc’s face immediately became very complex. After a while, he sighed and said in common language, "Human, alive."

After speaking, he hobbled away into the distance until his figure was obscured by the rain and shadows in the depths of the forest.

Some Orc Shamans chose to abandon Orc traditions and the ways of Shamanism, following Gul’dan’s suggestion to drink demon blood and become servants of evil, not because they desired fel magic and the Burning Legion.

They feared that defying Gul’dan and his master Kil’jaeden would result in their clan being wiped out entirely, something that had happened more than once in Draenor.

Jesse was studying warlock magic in order to survive in this world.

The Orc understood the meaning behind this, and Jesse, relieved to have narrowly escaped death, took a long breath.

Finally rid of this guy, whether he ends up as a gladiator captured by the lord of Durnholde, joins the Frostwolf Clan, or perishes in the snowstorms of Alterac, it’s up to his fate.

It’s more likely that he’ll be escorted back home by a dwarf patrol in Khaz Modan.

Suddenly, Saenor skipped over to Jesse and asked, "The monster is gone, where do you think it’s headed?"

Jesse replied, "Let it go wherever it wants, as long as it doesn’t come looking for me again."

Jesse finally relaxed and suddenly felt the painful shock that had passed through his whole body from the terrifying electricity, Greed still hadn’t woken up.

"By the way," he looked at the imp, "Can you… do any healing magic?"

"Absolutely not!"

Even though he couldn’t, Saenor sounded really excited.

"Then, can you help me get my bag back?" Jesse pointed in the direction the Orc had left. "It’s right over there!"

"Got it!" The imp immediately bounced out, leaving behind a trail of flames in its eyes.

He collapsed next to Greed, raising his arm to check if he was still breathing, to see if he was alive.

However, seeing his beard fluttering from the breath, and his arm not wanting to move due to the pain from the electric shock passing through.

Not knowing how long had passed, Jesse lay back on the lake shore, feeling like he was about to fall asleep, until Saenor finally dragged things back over.

Jesse looked up and the raindrops kept hitting his face.

"Thank you, demon. Even though you pretended to be dead behind me all this time, without that last strike, I would have been in real trouble."

"Ha, thank you, ha, thank you. What does this mean?" Imp kept repeating thank you while bouncing around energetically as if infused with new energy.

Jesse didn’t know where he found such great spirit from. He was completely exhausted.

But he couldn’t fall asleep. If he stayed here, the two lives he fought so hard to save might be taken away easily by monsters like the Murlocs near Lake Everstill.

With a loud shout to motivate himself, Jesse swung his arms and sat up, feeling less pain than before.

He managed to lift the dwarf up and balanced him on his shoulder, almost toppling back down under the weight.

This guy was nearly 200 pounds heavy. In his previous life, Jesse wouldn’t have even dreamt of lifting him.

But in Azeroth, he was used to carrying heavy loads. As long as he found that feeling from back then, step by step…

After walking and resting for who knows how long, Jesse felt his spirit numbed.

He didn’t know how far he had walked or where he was. The heavy rain engulfed everything in his view, but he knew he just had to keep following the road.

The rain kept pouring, soaking everything in sight, everything he was wearing, and everything he was carrying.

Suddenly, a flicker of fire appeared ahead.

It was the patroller from the Lakeshire militia!

"Is there anyone over there?" the militiaman shouted from afar, "Is someone injured?"

"Yes! Someone is injured!" Jesse shouted with all his might, "Please come help!"

Several militiamen ran over, lifting up the dwarf. Jesse suddenly remembered the imp was still behind him, worried about being discovered by the militiamen, his heart pounding. But when he looked back, the imp had already vanished.

He found his pocket had been opened and the rope inside was swaying back and forth. It seemed the imp remembered that command, to disappear whenever someone else was present. That was a relief.

Jesse breathed a sigh of relief and sat on the ground. Several militiamen helped him up as he watched Greed being taken away, feeling tense. He didn’t know if that was a lightning arrow or a lightning chain. Of course, regardless of what it was, he had no idea of its power as he was completely clueless about Shaman magic. He wondered if Greed could hold on.