Rise of the blood elves

afternoon.

"Greetings to you, envoy."

"May the Holy Light bless you."

Along the way, soldiers kept saying hello to Angmar.Since the battle three days ago, he has become a celebrity on the defense line of Holy Light Monastery.

The soldiers all knew everything he did on the battlefield. He took over the command at the most critical moment and turned the tide, preventing the defense line from being breached by natural disasters. He was seriously injured in the battle and almost died.

The respect is from the heart.

Angmar walked through the camp, smiling back every time a soldier greeted him. Finally he came to the field hospital and lifted the curtain and entered.

The field hospital is a very large tent built with a large amount of canvas spliced ​​together. The ceiling is very short, but the area is extremely large. There are about two to three hundred simple hospital beds divided into six rows, extending from close to far away.

The scene in the tent made him frown. The wounded groaned in pain one after another, and everyone was covered in bandages.Those with sword wounds, those with penetrating wounds, those with missing limbs and legs, and some who seemed to have more air coming out and less air coming in, as if they were about to reach the end of their lives.

Angmar's heart was unspeakably heavy.

The priests of the Holy Light Monastery hurriedly walked between the hospital beds, removing the blood-stained bandages on the wounded, reapplying medicine for them, and leaving precious mana to those seriously injured who needed priority treatment.

Angmar could see clearly that many of the bandages re-bandaged on the wounded were not new, and there were still bloodstains on them that had not been washed away. I am afraid that there was a serious shortage of medical supplies.The pastors who served as caregivers were all exhausted. It was obvious that there were not enough manpower and everyone was overworked.

"Oh please, please, please kill me." Suddenly a painful roar echoed throughout the audience.

Angmar turned around and saw seven or eight strong soldiers pressing a wounded man firmly on the hospital bed. There was a doctor covered in blood, holding a sharp saw, constantly pressing the wounded man's thigh. Push and pull.

The bandage on the leg had already been torn apart by the wounded man, revealing a shocking wound with bone deep underneath.

Sacred spells are not omnipotent. Because they were not treated in a timely and effective manner, the wounds worsened to this point. Even the most skilled casters were helpless. There was no other way except amputation to save their lives.

The sound of flesh and blood being sawed was extremely cruel, and the wounded man's screams of pain gradually decreased from loud to loud, and finally he fainted and stopped struggling.

There was a "crash!" It turned out that the amputated limbs had knocked over the iron basin on the ground that collected blood, and the blood spread everywhere.

"Is there a pastor? Where is the pastor?" The doctor called to the pastor while he was trying to stop the bleeding. Although the wounded man had a tourniquet on his thigh, the blood spurting out still covered his face.

Angmar saw the Tirion he was looking for running quickly. He closed his eyes and prayed for a moment. When he opened his eyes again, his hands were already emitting a holy light. He touched the wounded man's broken leg and the blood stopped immediately.

Angmar waited quietly until he finished the work at hand before calling softly: "Lord Tirion, do you have time?"

Lafayette looked back at Angmar, and cast a few more healing spells on the wounded man, then wiped the blood on his hands and followed Angmar out of the tent.

"Child, I have received your invitation. If you need me to find Teacher Fa'o for you, I will help you, but I will not attend."

Angmar handed over a handkerchief, shook his head and said, "Just because Lord Dathrohan is here, I'm not talking about that. I just want to ask you about your future plans."

Taking the handkerchief and wiping his hands, Tirion took a deep breath and looked up at the far end of his sight, wondering what he was thinking.After a while, he said faintly: "Thank you for your respect, but please don't call me your lord anymore. Like Dathrohan, he also wants me to return to the Knights of the Silver Hand. But I no longer belong there."

Angmar let out a long sigh. How can every hero who is enough to make a significant mark in the history of Azeroth be touched by ordinary people in just a few words?

"So you still choose to be stubborn"

"Stubborn." Tirion smiled bitterly and shook his head. "If you know how I rescued Eitrigg, you must know that I attacked those guards and caused the death of some of them. Although I did not kill them myself. , but made them ignore the danger from behind. I am no longer worthy of returning to the ranks of my brothers. Yes, you did let me see the reason to stay, making me no longer able to live in seclusion in the wilderness with peace of mind, but I can't go back, I I'll stay here and help in any way I can."

Angmar understood Lafayette and even more clearly what he was thinking.

As the saying goes, people are not born sages. They always have to experience something before they change the ideas they once insisted on.In Tirion's heart, the Knights of the Silver Hand are pure and righteous, and there is no room for such a guilty person like him. Isn't it ridiculous? No, for Tirion Fordring, it would be inappropriate to think otherwise. normal.

"Practicing glory does not mean punishing yourself with past sins. Think of Tailan; think of your countless brothers who shed their blood on the front line. How many people can you save here, ten or twenty? You are One of the most powerful Paladins in the world, in critical moments like this, not only your brothers need you, but the people you have sworn to protect also need you. Return to the front line, and you will be able to save countless people and make countless lives easier. Such field hospitals no longer have to be filled with dying and seriously injured people."

Angmar became more and more excited as he spoke, pointing at the field hospital behind him, and in the end he almost shouted.

He took a long breath and said in a deep voice: "Look at you like this now. You put your feelings above the glory, the people, and the holy light of your piety. You only live in the guilt of the past. . If I am not mistaken, even the Holy Light's response to you these days has not been as good as it used to be. No, ever since the natural disaster began to wreak havoc on Lordaeron, and you turned a blind eye to it and still chose to escape in the wilderness, Holy I’m already disappointed with you.”

Tirion Fordring seemed to have aged dozens of years in an instant, his face was heavy and he was silent.

In the official history, Lafayette escaped for many years. Natural disasters ravaged Lordaeron for three or four years, until the Kingdom of Lordaeron was destroyed and not even the scum was left. The Silver Hand split into the Argent Dawn and the Scarlet Crusade; until his son Tai Lan became a fanatical puppet and eventually died at the hands of Elison. Only then did Lafayette wake up and resolutely take on the responsibility that he had evaded for many years, and began to integrate the remaining Silver Hand and Silver Dawn to fight against evil.

Angmar really wants to ask, Lafayette, why do you have to wait until it's too late to regret everything before you show up?

"You must have heard about Lord Alexandros Mograine, the Ashbringer who has recently become famous. I know that there is an artifact that is not inferior to the Ashbringer, and no one is more worthy of picking it up than you."

After speaking, Angmar left without looking back.

"At least, Lord Tirion, I think so."

The gray-haired Tirion raised his head when he heard this, and his eyes followed the young figure who was retreating until the young man disappeared from his sight.

He took a deep breath and clenched his hands involuntarily. When he exhaled again, his frowning eyebrows and fine-lined eyes relaxed, and determination slowly rose in his eyes.

Although Tirion is over fifty years old, he does not deliberately straighten his back, but he has an immovable aura slowly exuding, like a rock in the stormy sea, which makes people involuntarily awe.

"Yeah, it's time to go back." He murmured.