Starting from World of Warcraft, the wind swept the world

Time is fleeting and spring has arrived.

It is another festival of Kshhaag, which is held only twice a year, once in spring and once in autumn, when all the clans gather to celebrate the day of equal length of day and night.

It can be said that the festival period is the most lively period in Nagran, and even ogres will never dare to disturb the assembly of the orc clans during this period.

Otherwise, it is no joke that many clans will unite after interfering with the orc traditions.

Before the festival officially begins, the orc clans come here one after another.

Nairgo was the same, thanks to the distance advantage of the Warsong clan, he did not rush to Nagran months in advance like some clans, or even half a year ago, he only needed a few days of effort.

"If it's Gorlond, it's okay, if it's the Shadow Moon Clan, I'm afraid that I don't have to do anything else for the whole year, it's all on the way." Nelgo thought with some teasing.

But no, the festival is held twice a year, it takes months to go back once, and it is many months to go back, back and forth, the front foot has just arrived home, and the back foot festival is coming again.

It's really embarrassing for them to keep the festival from day to time.

The festivities officially begin the night before at moonrise. They gathered in the land they called Nagran - the "land of the winds", at the foot of the "mountain of souls" Washougu.

The Kshhag Festival is held every year in this holy place, and no one can say how long the tradition has lasted.

I only vaguely remember that this was originally a gathering of shamans, and later evolved into a festival for all orcs.

Challenges and duels are nothing new during the holidays, but truly angry brawls never break out here. If someone really loses their temper – so many people gathered together – it does happen from time to time – the shamans will advise the parties concerned to solve the problem peacefully, and if they can't, order them to leave the Holy Land.

At the foot of the sacred mountain.

Nairgo, along with the other orcs, waited for the Pale Lady to appear.

It wasn't the first time Nelgo had participated in the Kshhag Festival, but whenever he saw the Pale Lady climbing above the clouds, she cast a bright moonlight, and the breathtaking beauty made him cheer like the other orcs.

How big is the voice of an orc

? a thousand? I

don't know how many orcs are waiting for this moment under Voshugu, issuing their cheers.

This sound is like a thousand horses galloping, and it seems that the sky is shattering.

Wise elders, heroic warriors, even babbling children, they all have their own voices.

The cheers were followed by the drums.

Not only shamans, but other orcs are making every sound that can pay tribute to the great stars who rule the night.

When Amukva finds Nairgo, he is celebrating the moment with two orcs he doesn't know.

Nelgo hung a small war drum on his waist, and the other palm did not hold a mallet or anything like that, but just beat rhythmically with the palm of his hand.

The other two orcs raised their hands high and pointed to the stars, launching a primitive roar.

"You really came. Seeing his former friend from the Elemental Throne, Nairgo stopped his movements and stepped forward and pulled Amukhva to sit on the plush blanket that had just been laid out.

"This is the festival of all orcs. Amukhwa smiled, and it was so easy for him to find his friend.

He didn't want to be seen by the Warsong Orcs as spies plotting to destroy their clan.

"No, I mean, I didn't expect your clan to allow you to come to our station. Nelgo lit a bonfire and took out the bacon that had already been slaughtered and air-dried.

Next up is another program of the Kshshhag festival - the banquet.

The warm fire blended wonderfully with the silver-white moonlight, and the drums beat again.

"I'm a shaman after all. Amukwa waved his hand helplessly, "But even so, I can still feel the surveillance from the shadows." "

Orcs have never had a civil war, but they're not sociable either. Each clan is very closed, and even in this kind of festival, the clans nod their heads even if they don't talk about old and dead and don't interact with each other.

It's no wonder that someone is secretly watching over this outsider.

Nairgo couldn't say much about this tradition between the various orc clans, but Amukva also understood that isolationism between the orcs was not something that the two little shamans could change, and he decisively chose to change the topic, "Your clan recently raided an ogre stronghold?"

"What's so well-informed. Amukwa complained, "It would be strange if your Battle Song Clan didn't raid the ogres in any year.

"Besides. Amukwa pointed to the drum around his waist and said, "I also know that you must have participated in the battle."

Nairgo smiled, and the unrestrained smile did not cause Amukva's disgust, but made him more like an orc, "That's right, and this drum is still made from the head of a cannibal magician." "

The bones of a man-eating magician, the skin of a cracked hoofed ox." Nairgo brought Tazagra, who was only concerned with eating meat, "also thanks to Tazag, who provided me with the skin of a cracked hoofed ox." "

The ogre's mage? Amukva did not hesitate to praise himself, it was enough to brag about heroic deeds to be able to participate in battle at this age, and the mage who killed the ogre was even more courageous, didn't you see that the few little orcs who secretly paid attention to them on the side were already full of little stars?

With a hint of admiration on his face, he recalled: "When the mage led people to escape, Nelgo went to hunt him down alone, and when the battle on our side was over and someone was sent to find him, we found him leaning on the body of the cannibal magician, and he was still holding the ogre's head in his hand."

"

I'll tell you..." The

two orcs are like talking about crosstalk, you say one by one, one by one, one teasing and one teasing one, telling a seemingly ordinary story into an epic.

Comparable to St. George's dragon slayer.

Everyone was amused by Tazag's exaggerated narration, except for one orc who was still sullen.

"Garrush, is something here not to your liking?" asked Nairgo, noticing that the little bald head who was not yet bald was in a somewhat depressed mood, and after touching his head.

"No, I'm just worried. Although Garrush hated this act of touching his head, he was powerless to resist and could only let him do whatever he wanted.

"Worried?" Nairgo was a little stunned, but a little amused, "Are you worried about my safety?

It seems that I am still making a lot of my own affection?