Emberthal
Ragnaros said a few words to Ebyssian and was defeated by his ideas.
He walked a few more steps, but he still didn't give up. He kept a safe distance behind Onyxia, trying to find a sense of recognition. He pointed at Ebyssian in front of him and whispered, "Sister, look at that freak, he really thinks that he is Tauren! How ridiculous! We Black Dragon's faces are almost completely embarrassed by him!"
Onyxia didn't even bother to look back. He sneered and retorted mercilessly, "Whatever he likes to be is his freedom. As long as he doesn't provoke me and doesn't harm Theramore, even if he wants to be a goblin, I don't care. But you... She finally turned her head and glanced at Ragnaros out of the corner of her eye. The sarcasm in her eyes almost overflowed, "I keep saying "Black Dragon Prince" and "the only orthodox" on my lips every day, and I wish I could have it engraved on my forehead."
"But you know better than anyone else how bad Black Dragon's reputation is in Azeroth! Otherwise, why do you always keep emphasizing your poor bloodline like a repeater? Is it because you have nothing but this, and you feel so guilty inside?"
"Uh!" Ragnaros was so choked up by these words that his face turned red and his ears were red. He was speechless and couldn't hold back a retort for a long time.
He could only shrink back to the end of the line in dejection.
He was indeed hit on a sore spot. Black Dragon Legion has long since fallen apart and is notorious. His so-called "legitimacy" and "prince" titles, in the eyes of the world and even many Dragon Races, are probably more associated with Deathwing's notoriety than glory.
He secretly glanced at the eldest sister walking beside Deren.
She seemed to be staring at herself warily, but the natural intimacy between her and Deren was so reassuring.
Then he looked at the back of Tauren, who was as calm as a mountain and seemed to be indifferent to the world, and there was an indescribable confusion and sourness in Black Dragon's heart:
Why are they both Black Dragon, and they all seem to have found their own path - even though he doesn't quite understand that path, but he is like a clown, jumping up and down, and in the end achieves nothing and even gets beaten up? Could it be that - is he really wrong?
Just when Ragnaros fell into self-doubt and the team continued to deepen, the surrounding darkness became thicker and the air became colder and quieter, an abrupt voice, containing warning, suddenly sounded from the darkness in front, "Stop! Don't come closer! Who are you?"
Alexstrasza, who was walking at the front, immediately stopped, his golden dragon eyes shining brightly in the darkness.
She did not panic, she just gently raised her right hand, and a warm and bright red light lit up at her fingertips, and then spread out like ripples, instantly dispelling the large darkness in front of her and illuminating the area.
Wherever the light reached, the sight took everyone's breath away.
It was a relatively open underground hall, much smaller than the previous one, but its structure was more complex.
The walls and floors are no longer rough rocks, but have been carefully polished and engraved with complex runes.
Some precision Magic Crystal are embedded in the magic circle. After thousands of years, they still seem to be working.
The most eye-catching thing is the center of the hall, where dozens or even hundreds of sculpture-like figures are neatly arranged.
And in front of these "sculpture" arrays, stood a strange figure.
She - judging from her voice and slightly slender outline - is about two or three meters tall, with a slender body and covered with dark blue scales with a metallic luster.
Her body presents a perfect streamline shape, combining the power of a dragon with the flexibility of a humanoid. A pair of proportionally proportioned dragon wings are gathered behind her, and her tail swings gently behind her.
Her face is like an exquisite lizard, but there are small dragon horns on the top of her head, and her eyes are cold pale golden vertical pupils.
She was wearing simple metal and leather armor with an obvious practical style, and she was holding a strange-looking weapon in her hand.
A weapon that looks like a spear, with the sheen of energy flowing from its tip.
At this moment, this strange, half-dragon, half-human Warrior is using her pale golden vertical pupils to watch the intruders vigilantly. The weapon in her hand is slightly raised and aimed at Alexstrasza at the front.
As the light lit up, more similar figures in a semi-activated or alert state emerged from the surrounding shadows and the
Some "sculptures" appeared faintly behind them, most of them silently holding weapons and postures on guard.
Alexstrasza's eyes swept over these strange beings, especially the female leader. She could clearly feel that the blood energy of Dragon Race was flowing in these creatures at the same time. There was also some kind of highly modified, nearly flat construct-like order magic power.
They are creations, Warrior that are carefully manufactured.
She took a deep breath, suppressed the shock and some ominous premonition in her heart, took a step forward, her voice was gentle but with the majesty of a leader, and said in pure Draconic: "I am Alexstrasza, Life-Binder, Red Dragon Queen, Dragon Race are recognized leaders. Who are you ----? Why are you sleeping here? What does Neltharion ---- have to do with you?"
She tried to establish communication directly with the other party and mentioned the key name.
When the leading female Half-Dragon Servant heard "Alexstrasza" and "Red Dragon Queen", her pale golden vertical pupils flashed slightly, seeming to trigger some kind of deep recognition process.
She looked at Alexstrasza carefully, almost like a scan, especially the majestic and pure life force and Dragon Race majesty on her body.
After a while, she seemed to have made some kind of judgment, and her vigilant posture relaxed slightly, but she did not put down the weapon in her hand. She responded with Draconic with a strange resonance, "I am Emberthal, the scale leader of Dracthyr. By the order of Lord Aspect of Earth Neltharion, I am sleeping here and waiting.
His calling."
Her words were clear, but with a programmed rigidity. "You ---- are not the envoys sent by Master Neltharion. Who are you? Why did you break into the forbidden area?"
Alexstrasza's face instantly became extremely ugly, even with a hint of pain.
She organized her words with difficulty, trying to explain the current situation to these creatures who had obviously been instilled with specific instructions and had no concept of the passage of time, "Neltharion He has something ---- a serious problem. He cannot come for the time being. Moreover, Emberthal, and other Dracthyrs, please listen to me - time has passed since you were created and ordered to wait here - twenty thousand years. The outside world has undergone earth-shaking changes. Many things are different."
"Twenty thousand years?" Emberthal repeated this word, a wave of data flow flashed through his vertical pupils, as if Ping was performing complex calculations and logical checks.
Her expression was blank for a moment, but was soon covered by some deep-rooted command.