"In the name of Ironforge, we will defend this territory!"

The dwarven warrior stood atop the pile of corpses, shouting loudly. Blood washed over him, coating his helmeted face.

However, as soon as the words fell, the tribal leader Garrush. Hell Roar rode the iron-clad war wolf, roaring, and in a heartbeat, the legendary great axe roared through the air, slashing the dwarf's neck with an axe, and the helmeted head flew into the air. Blood splattered the wolf's body red, as well as the legs of Hell's roar.

However, that's what orcs need to taste.

"For the Horde!"

Hell roared and opened his throat to rage.

The sound wave like a wave of air spread out, arousing the most primitive blood of the orcs, and the orcs and minotaurs behind them suddenly let out a beast-like howl.

Like bloodthirsty beasts, they rushed to the high ground of the dwarves.

With a wild roar, the Dwarven Musketeers were forced into melee combat.

Hell roared and grabbed a dwarven musketeer, his beastly hand squeezing so hard that he heard the sound of bones shattering, and the dwarven warrior's neck was crushed. Then, Hellroar threw the dwarf out of his hand along with his armor like garbage. When it landed, there was a muffled sound of iron sheets colliding.

Another dwarven warrior rushed from below, but before he could reach the orc leader, the Hellroaring mount roared and rushed forward, knocking the dwarf to the ground in a frenzied bite, until blood continued to splatter from the dwarven helmet......

The Bloodroar swings in the Hellroar's hand, unleashing a storm of blood, the sharp blade of the axe severing the limbs of enemies and tearing apart the flesh of their enemies. No one could stop the Hellroar's frenzied attack, and one of the dwarven musketeers was even cleaved in half by the roar of blood, and the flesh lay on the ground in a blur, turning into a pile of rotten flesh.

The Darkspear Trolls, led by Woking, were also forced into the fray. The Shadow Hunter doesn't forget to throw his spear even when fighting at close range. The sharp spear pierced through the dwarven infantry, and then, stepping on the enemy's chest, Woking pulled the hunting spear out of the dead dwarf and shot it into the next ...... A dwarven warrior tried to attack the leader of the Darkspear clan from behind, but Woking dodged it, then grabbed the opponent's head, stretched out the dagger hidden in his hand, and slashed the dwarven warrior's throat with a single blow...... The troll's palms were dyed black and red.

The roars of dwarves and orcs echoed throughout the highlands, and screams lingered above the Ironforge Expeditionary Force's camp.

"Defensive formation!"

The dwarves, cornered with no way out, finally sounded their final rallying call.

With the Arrin and Ironforge banners as the core, the hoplites formed a shield wall, and the soldiers were next to each other, forming a circular position, holding the commanding heights. In the center of the circular position, the musketeers and snipers who still have their bullets left to fight against the horde's bipedal wyvern.

"These dwarves look brave and don't surrender yet."

Hell roared and panted as he stood on top of the corpses. Under the setting sun, the defensive formation formed by the dwarves was like an iron wall, and with the attack from the back, the tribal warriors consumed a huge amount of physical strength, and the large army was unable to overcome it for a while and a half.

But Hellroar quickly figured it out.

Looking at the bipedal wyvern hovering overhead in the dwarven position, Garrosh. A sly smile appeared on the corners of Hellroar's mouth.

"Have the Wind Knights pull down, load up the oil, fly up again, and sprinkle the fuel on the heads of these dwarves."

On the battlefield full of wolf smoke, Hell Roar ordered to the adjutant beside him.

It's just that Sarufar on the side showed a surprised expression-

"Garrosh. Hell roars, you can't do that! When did the Horde rely on such means to win? This is nothing short of a massacre! This is an act of great dishonor! ”

"Glory? What is glory? Sarufar, I respect you as my father's comrade-in-arms, but now that the Horde Expeditionary Force is under my command, I hope you will not obstruct me. Glory, only by defeating the enemy, can there be glory. The loser is glorious! ”

Hell roared and roared. Under the wolf smoke, the two orcs stood straight, staring at each other. Sarufar nearly threw a punch in Hellroar's face. However, however, for the sake of the big picture of the tribe. Sarufar endured it.

He gritted his teeth, spitting out of his mouth and nose. It's as if any fire can burn him. However, in the end, he didn't make a move, just grabbed the breastplate of Hell's Roar and released it tremblingly.

"Don't go back to your father's ways, Garrosh, or even Thrall won't be able to save you."

Sarufar growled.

Garrosh, on the other hand, just looked at him coldly, silent.

"Fill the fuel drum!"

Immediately, he ordered to ......

……

"Damn, they've finally stopped."

At night, the physically and mentally exhausted Commander Yarlin sat in the crowd, sighing. This rare silence, after a long day of fighting with the tribe, finally won a moment of respite. The afterglow of the setting sun was gone, replaced by a silent, dark night sky, with the White Lady and the Blue Child hanging high in the sky, and the stars still sprinkled across Azeroth.

It was supposed to be a peaceful night, but it didn't look like a dwarf. All around, at the foot of the mountain, were the corpses of their comrades, who were their comrades-in-arms and partners during the day, but now, they had become bloodied corpses. Their battle loss rate was very high, and in just one day of fighting, it had already reached a third. More than a thousand Copperbeard Dwarves died in today's battle. Orcs and trolls are disposing of their corpses, either burning them or dismembering them to feed the wolves...... The thick smell of blood was unsettling and even terrifying to the dwarves.

They began to regret that perhaps the treasures of the Winter Embrace Lake were not worth the risk and fanaticism they had...... But maybe as long as the big forces of the alliance also come, they have hope, at least, they will not be so badly defeated today. Wars are not won by numbers, but in the face of absolute numerical superiority, no amount of excellent tactics will help.

Many, like Yarlin, are physically and mentally exhausted. However, they still did not dare to relax. The horde's army was on the periphery, and bonfires were lit in their camps, almost encircling the dwarves' positions.

Yarlin knew that the alliance would come. They couldn't have abandoned him, even if it was to punish him, but the Ironforge Expeditionary Force couldn't be buried for it. Arrin was confident, because even if Ares and Varian did not come, the remaining fifteen thousand of their compatriots would come. They were also in the forces of the Alliance, marching with Ares. As long as they get the news, they will definitely come.

Only, for a moment, Arrin complained about Brian. This madman, is the expedition more important than the legion? He was originally a prominent member of the Alliance Expeditionary Force, and even Varian and Ares had to respect him by three points. But Magni's brother was so unreliable that he left a brief message on the eve of the war—he was going to the deepest cavern of the Storm Cliffs to find out the mysteries...... What is Storm Crags? No one knows, only that in Brian's eyes, it is very important, even more important than the Lich King of the Northern Expedition...... What could be more important in the world than attacking Icecrown Fortress? Yarlin was puzzled, in fact, not only him, but the entire alliance also thought so......