Chapter 63: The Wanderer

Sal?

Sal was the son of the former chief of the Frostwolf Clan yes, and had grown up to be the Grand Chief of the entire tribe, but he was less than 10 years old now, so who knew him.

And the name Sal was given by a human, a lingua franca name that the orcs could never have known.

His original name was Guile, but it was a name his parents had made up privately, and how many of the Frostwolf clan had heard of it so early in their lives?

Yeah, Sal’s father, the former chief of the Frostwolf Clan, Durontan!

Jace immediately gave a continuous reading of Durontan in several more or less the same way, and this time the orc finally understood.

“Durontan …… Durontan!”

Luckily the simple name is similar in Orcish and English Chinese, and Jace struck while the iron was hot, “Son of Durontan, alive!”

“Son of Durontan.” The orc froze and after a moment whispered, “Drektar, I understand Drektar.”

It turns out that just now the orc just did not understand this is a person’s name, listen to his orcish Drake Tal pronunciation accent on the “Tal”, and emphasize the very obvious, the first half of the “Drake” said very light and very omitted, like some kind of simple prefix. Jace just pronounced it completely the other way around, no wonder the other party didn’t understand it at once, maybe Jace’s pronunciation of Drake Tal has other meanings in the Orc language.

Thankfully, it wasn’t a curse word.

“Son of Durontan, where is it?” The orc asked.

“Son of Durontan, Dunhold.” Jace said.

He drew a simple outline of the topography of the eastern continent in the sand with his stick, then pointed to the two places about the same time and said, “The Valley of Otterland, Dunhold.”

“Scatterhold ……” The orc threw his dagger to the ground and held up his hands, signaling that he wanted to come closer, but without malice.

But Jace knew this guy could kill himself in one blow with his fists alone even without a weapon, so what was the point of this just throwing daggers?

Only in this situation, there is nothing optional, after all, he can not chop his hands.

The orc dragged his wounded belly closer to take a look at the simple map that Jace had drawn and slowly nodded.

The two had gotten close enough that Jace could clearly smell a demonic sulfurous stench on him, even with the rain it did little to lessen it, it must have smelled like only an orc who drank demon blood.

At that moment, the orc looked up, pointed at Jace’s stick, and said, “Talon Gore.”

Jace had guessed correctly, the orcs knew that the stick was something from Talon Bloodmage.

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

Then pointing in the direction of Elwyn in the far southeast, the orc nodded as if he understood, and then looked over to the little kid over there who was just sitting up and coughing incessantly.

“Distrust, warlock, demon.”

His distrust was spoken in Common, while the warlock and the demon were spoken in Orcish, and Jace had the rare privilege of understanding all of it.

Jace pointed to the veins protruding from his arm and said in Orcish, “Demon, alive.”

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

The look on the orc’s face immediately became extremely complex, and after a long time, he sighed and said in the common tongue, “Human, live.”

With that, he turned and limped off into the distance until his form was buried by the rain and the trees as he walked deeper into the forest.

Some orc shamans choose to abandon their orcish traditions and shamanic ways to follow Gul’dan’s wishes and drink the blood of demons and become demonic slaves, not because they are so inclined to evil energy and the Burning Legion.

They were afraid that after disobeying Gul’dan and his loyal master Kilgardan, it would result in the entire clan they belonged to being wiped out, something that hadn’t happened once or twice in Draenor.

And Jace learns warlock magic so he can live in this world.

The orc understood the implications, and Jace breathed a long sigh of relief for having managed to pick up a life.

Finally, the guy was sent away, and it was up to the guy whether he was captured as a gladiator by the lords of Dunhold, or whether he managed to find the Frostwolf Clan, or perhaps freeze to death in the winds and snows of the Outlander.

The greater likelihood is that halfway through it was sent back home by a Dwarf patrol right in Kazmodan.

At that moment, Saeuno bounced up to Jace and said, “I can’t believe the monster is gone, where does the monster want to go?”

“Wherever he goes, go wherever he likes, and don’t come back to me anyway.”

Jace this relaxed before he suddenly felt the pain left by that horrible burst of electrical energy that had just run through his body, and Grid hadn’t woken up yet.

“Right.” He looked to the imp, “Do you …… you know any healing magic?”

“Not at all!”

Obviously it won’t, Saeuno sounded as if he was still excited about it.

“You, then, want to help me get my bag back.” Jace pointed in the direction the orc had left and said, “Right over there!”

“Understood!” The little ghost immediately jumped up and scurried away, leaving behind a trail of flames left behind by the flames coming out of his eyes.

He collapsed beside Grid, lifting his arm what would have been an attempt to probe his nostrils to see if he was still alive.

Yet it was nice to see the mustache under his nose quivering with air, and his arms not wanting to move from the pain of the electricity passing through them.

I don’t know how long it took for Jace to lay on his back on the lake beach, feeling like he was about to fall asleep, before Saeuno finally dragged the thing back to the side.

Jace leaned back as the rain beat uncontrollably on his face.

“Thanks, Devil, even though you’ve been playing dead for me back there, I’d have been dead without you that time before.”

“Ha, thank you, ha, thank you, what does that mean?” The brat kept repeating thank you while bouncing back and forth like a chicken blood.

Jace really didn’t know where he got so much energy, he was exhausted and weak anyway.

But he couldn’t fall asleep, if he stayed here, the two lives he had managed to fight for might be casually taken away by the fishmen and other monsters along the shore of the Stopwater Lake at will.

Jace gave himself a pep talk with a yell and threw up his arms and sat up, his body not hurting as much as it had a moment ago at this point.

He yanks the dwarf up whole and shoulders him, which nearly crushes him again.

The guy was almost 200 pounds heavy, and in a previous life, Jace wouldn’t have even expected to lift him at all.

But in Azeroth he was carrying a big bag, and it’s not like he hasn’t carried one that’s almost as heavy as this one, so as long as he gets back the feeling of that time, one step …… one step ……

Walking around for who knows how long, Jace felt mentally numb.

He didn’t know how far he’d traveled or where he was, the rain was swallowing up everything in his vision, all he knew was to just follow the road.

It kept raining, and everything he could see, everything he wore, everything he carried was soaked.

At that moment, a fire appeared ahead.

It’s a patrolman from the Lakeside Township Militia!

“Anyone over there?” The militia called out from a distance to this side, “Anyone hurt?”

“There! Someone’s hurt!” Jace shouted with all his strength, “Get over here and help!”

A couple of militiamen ran over and helped carry the dwarf, and Jace suddenly thought that the Kid was still behind him, fearing that the militiamen would notice a thumping in his heart, but when he looked back, the Kid had disappeared.

He realized that his pockets had been unbuttoned at some point and the rope was swinging back and forth. It seemed the brat had remembered the order to disappear whenever anyone else was present, great.

Jace sat down on the ground with a sigh of relief as a couple of militiamen helped him up, his heart tightening as he watched the grimoire being taken away. He didn’t know if it was a lightning arrow, or a lightning chain. Of course whatever it was, he didn’t know how powerful it was, and he knew nothing of the power of shamanic magic. He wondered if Grid could hold it.