I have one more World of Warcraft Necromancer than you

Chapter 282 A Life of Debauchery and Indulgence

The Sofia Heights are located directly above Tarrenmir, and from the edge of the heights, one can have a clear view of Tarrenmir.

The Syndicate squad that Lorraine eliminated was tasked with monitoring the movements of the undead in Tarren Mill.

From the cliffs, Lorraine could see the town from afar. The town of Tarrenmere's unique windmill tower was connected to a waterwheel, which diverted water from the stream flowing down from the snow-capped mountains to the orchards behind the town.

Amidst the rows of fruit trees stands a huge barn...

Beside the barn was a small reservoir, from which smoke slowly rose from the blacksmith's furnace. Most of the fruit trees in the orchard were withered and dying, though one could still vaguely discern the lush, dense foliage they once possessed.

If Tarren Mill hadn't been overrun by the undead, it would have been a prosperous estate, teeming with grains and fruits, which were sold far and wide. Tarren Mill was once a bustling place. Because it's close to the main road to Alterac Valley and not far from Durnholde Keep, you can find the various specialties produced by different human settlements here.

Southshore's wine, Hillsbrad Foothills' pumpkins, Tarren Mill's fruit... the dwarves of Dun Morogh curse... the Syndicate's shrewd merchants roam the land. Most of the Syndicate's bandits are former Alterac nobles; they owned everything down in the mountains, now it's someone else's territory...

One can only say that life is like a dream, as if from another world.

......

From the bushes behind him came intermittent groans. Lorraine slowly approached, carefully listened, and parted the bushes to reveal the source of the sound.

"A fish that slipped through the net!"

A disheveled fellow lay sprawled under the tree, snoring loudly against the trunk, danger looming. He was clutching a small silver tin flask, which lay askew, spilling liquor that soaked through his thin, coarse cloth clothes.

This guy had a yellow hemp rope tied around his head... He wasn't masked, nor did he have any syndicate identification markings.

Unable to identify himself, he could only be described as resembling a human sailor...

The snoring was accompanied by groans, seemingly from being both cold and hungry... The body trembled rhythmically and involuntarily... Fortunately, the higher ground wasn't as cold as the summit; the damp, warm air, mixed with a slight sea breeze, prevented anyone from freezing to death...

The flush on the guy's face and his dazed expression proved that he was completely drunk.

If he's with the Syndicate, and all his comrades outside are dead, with screams echoing everywhere, and he's still lying there motionless, then you can only say that this guy is either incredibly magnanimous or incredibly stupid.

Or they're so drunk they don't even realize the danger is approaching.

Once Lorraine determined that the humans under the tree posed no threat and were completely drunk, she prepared to send them to their deaths.

Magic coalesced, about to end the life of the drunkard, when suddenly Lorraine remembered the question mark on the last map. He wanted to know what it represented. Was it treasure, danger, or a target the Syndicate was preparing to attack?

No survivors were left. Their bodies, now possessed by vengeful spirits, still appear as bandits, but are actually puppets controlled by vengeful spirits. Lorraine does not yet possess the magic to extract their memories.

Lorraine crouched down and used her sharp claws to pat the drunkard's bright red, monkey-like face.

"Hmm...stop fooling around...let Warrick sleep a little longer..."

The drunkard, Walic, kept his eyes tightly shut and mumbled, "Count...sir, let me...keep an eye on...you, and you...don't...slack off."

Lorraine was almost laughing in anger. This drunkard didn't even know that death was coming to claim him.

Lorraine tentatively asked in common human language, "Who is the Earl? Who are you? Who are you, and what are you doing here... map..."

Lorraine wanted to ask about the map, but didn't know how to get the completely drunk guy to say it...

After a brief pause, the servant Varik, biting his lip and licking his tongue, his eyes glazed, leaned against the tree trunk, barely managing to stay upright. "Who is the Earl...? Who knows...? We are not allowed to know the identities of the lords. We are unworthy... Varik is unworthy too..."

Who is Warrick?

“Warick...is...your...grandpa.”

"..."

Lorraine and his apprentice were speechless. The drunkard's name was Warwick. They had just heard the Syndicate bandits mention Warwick's name... This guy was a heavy drinker, especially fond of the spirits from Southshore.

The spirits of Southsea Town are crafted with the skills of the dwarves, combined with improvements made by the Southsea Town artisans, resulting in a unique and flavorful product.

Lorraine could indeed detect a unique aroma from the little bit of wine that had flowed from Warwick's chest. It was not very noticeable when mixed with other smells, but when he got closer to Warwick, there was a strong scent of grain essence.

"Just kill him... He can't even speak properly... and he dares to tease you..."

"Hmm, I think he's faking being drunk. Let me try..."

Lorraine wasn't bothered by Warrick's insults; he simply drew a Syndicate short sword he'd just picked up and used the blade to pat Warrick's face again. "Are the question marks on the map your targets?"

"Question mark? What question mark... Where's the question mark? There are only stars, wow, look at all these stars... They're dancing around me! The Earl's not here, so I'm the boss! You can't bully me... You have to listen to me... My orders are... Keep the music playing, keep dancing! Drink, cheers! Drink..."

"Drink my ass!"

Lorraine couldn't take it anymore; he had important business to attend to and didn't want to delay any longer.

The initial reconnaissance mission at the first location is complete. Troop strength? Military intelligence? Enemy numbers? No need anymore. The Plaguebringer directly took action, wiping out the bandit squad and obtaining their map. This is a perfect completion of the reconnaissance.

The snoring Warick was just an accidental discovery; the guy was unlucky, if he had been sleeping any deeper, he might have actually managed to escape from Loran.

We've offended the abbot!

Want to settle this amicably? That's impossible...

Lorraine is kind-hearted, but not very magnanimous... Now that his status has risen, he has also become arrogant.

With a slap in anger, a deep black five-finger mark appeared on Warrick's already red face. His fragile human face instantly turned even darker, as if he had been poisoned by corpse poison... In reality, it was just a burst of black energy that was automatically released after Lorraine got angry, and he didn't even notice that his body was indeed undergoing some changes.

He didn't feel anything.

The drunkard was in a terrible state. The intense burning pain, coupled with a tremendous force that nearly broke his neck, instantly sobered him up. When he came to his senses, he let out an inhuman scream.

Imagine ironing clothes directly hitting your delicate face; that kind of torture is unbearable for most people.

Lorraine didn't notice the eerie aura emanating from his bone claws.

He just wanted to know more...

【Ghost Hand Brand】

Inject death energy into the target's body, corroding it, devouring and transforming it into life force, causing the target to enter a state of corrosive disease and fear, losing 0.1% of health points per second for 1000 seconds until complete death.

Branding the target ignores defenses and takes effect immediately upon contact with the body.

Upon the target's death, it will be transformed into a cursed vengeful spirit that will relentlessly pursue and bite living people, remaining immune to all attacks for 60 seconds.

Originating from the secret arts of the Cult of the Damned, and improved and developed by troll sorcery... Paladins' cleansing spells and blessings can remove it, while holy priests' prayers can prolong the effects of the curse.

"The necromancer's wrath... is unbearable for mortals."

......

Warick clutched his left cheek in pain, and in his horror, he saw a pale, ghostly face staring straight at him. The smell of alcohol vanished instantly, and the stimulating effect on his brain made him tremble as he leaned against the tree trunk, kicking his legs wildly, but there was nowhere to put his weight on.

Lorraine let out a sinister, magnetic laugh, befitting a vengeful male...

"I told you you were faking it, but the teacher didn't believe me. Humph, who's in charge now!"

Valic couldn't understand a word Lorraine was saying. He was gripped by fear and excruciating pain, and the sounds he uttered were barely audible... Lorraine had hoped he would provide some useful information, but for the next ten minutes, he watched helplessly as the man who had been so carefree and incoherent slurring his words shrank into a skeletal form, as if drained of his life force by a demon...

Like the cursed miser in Lord of the Rings...

Warrick rapidly shrank into a desiccated corpse in front of Lorraine, yet he was still alive.

Because 1000 seconds is approximately sixteen minutes, Warick will then have to endure five minutes of soul-refining torment...

Lorraine was completely bewildered. He felt he hadn't cast any spells, just slapped the other person, so how could they be in such a sorry state? He wanted to ask a question, but he couldn't...

"Hey, what's wrong with you? Tell me the secret, and I might spare your life... Hey, hey, hey. Warwick... I know your name! Tell me..."

Warrick was in pain, convulsing, and shaking his head.

"Ravenholdt! Ravenholdt... Raven..."