As Muradin said, this is a battle that belongs to him - only to him and must belong to him. Faced with the orc who had slaughtered two hundred and seventy-six of his clansmen with his own hands, Muradin had no position or reason to sit on the city wall in peace. There must be war - Arthas did not want to, nor could he deprive Muradin, of the right to win back the dignity of his people, to wash away their shame, to avenge their hatred.

Since it can't be stopped, there is only blessing - Arthas's heart is in a mess, but he can only squeeze out a reluctant smile on his face: "Muradin, I hope you ...... You will surely win, may the Holy Light bless you. In the face of Arthas's blessing, Muradin laughed heartily and comforted the little human ghost who was very close to him, and said: "Don't worry, child, I am the king of the hills of the Copperbeard tribe!" ”

With that, Muradin nodded to Danas, walked over to the noose wheel at the head of the city, spat on the palm of his hand, rubbed it vigorously, and then shook the wheel that lifted the steel gate. The gates of the Dammod Fortress are so spacious, and the gate is made by the dwarves, and the thickness and purity are far greater than those of ordinary human fortresses; Therefore, this stainless steel gate is afraid to weigh hundreds of tons.

No matter how strong Muradin was, he could not have lifted such a heavy thing; When the gate of this weight fell, Arthas and the others could feel the shaking of the city wall like an earthquake. But the storage of the winch solved this problem, and the inner wall of the city wall above the entire city gate hole, under the wooden canopy, was covered with all kinds of gears and pulleys of different sizes. Alsace didn't know much about such mechanical structures, but it was clear that it was for the sake of saving effort, so the huge steel gate was lifted up with the creaking sound of the gate opening.

Danas sighed, took a few steps forward, came to Muradin's side, and said to him, "Muradin, you better go to the cave of the city gate, since you insist on a duel with that orc, I can only wish you victory." However, until then, you still don't want to waste your energy for this kind of thing. ”

With that, Danas's hand was already on the handle of the winch. Muradin looked at Danas, said nothing, nodded, and turned to walk down the steps of the wall. Danas took a deep breath and was about to turn the winch and let the floodgates rise completely.

But this hot-blooded middle-aged bald uncle didn't expect that he had taken on a job that he couldn't complete at all. Under Muradin's hands, the winch, which seemed to be able to be turned easily, did not move under the hard pull of Danas. Danas's face was flushed, and he couldn't get the handle of the winch to move even a little with all his strength.

Danas felt a little embarrassed, and Frost Sorrow laughed ungracefully. Ricks glared at the impolite woman and hurriedly beckoned a group of militia from Fort Riptide to help Danas. With the efforts of a group of people, the winch finally moved tremblingly.

Even if the winch was successful, it would have taken a lot of effort to lift the steel gate up. But Muradin didn't have to wait long, after all, his height was there. After a while, Arthas saw Muradin, with two heavy two-handed weapons on his back, appear outside the fortress of Dammod through the gate hole.

Ricks and the others were still trying their best to lift the steel gate upwards, and the archers on the city walls were lining up and walking down the city - most of these archers had lost the ability to continue firing their bows and arrows in the previous battle, and needed to be transferred from the barracks on the other side of the Sador Bridge.

Danas came to Arthas's side and stretched his arms, which had been a little uncomfortable from the exertion, and the slight soreness made the prince of Riptide Castle grin. Seeing that Muradin did not look back, and walked firmly towards the orc, who was still showing off his might, Danas sighed and said, "May the Holy Light bless." "Arthas's hand rested on the notch in the battlement, and the cold, hard bluestone wall was not smooth, and the spots and bumps/dots were even a little awkward." May the Holy Light bless. Arthas responded to Danas's words.

Although the fortress on the opposite side was slow to open the gates, Grom was not at all agitated. He had a gut feeling that he would be able to get a perfect fight today. Therefore, when he saw the familiar dwarven warrior with two two-handed weapons on his back and a horned steel helmet on his head, walking towards him step by step, Grom even roared excitedly, and a huge roar echoed at the junction of the wetland and the Sador Bridge, like a dragon's groan.

Grom is a disbeliever in gods, and even shamans like Drektar, who believe in elemental spirits, are often despised by him. In Grom's opinion, only warriors are the destination of orcs, and indeed all other races, and such things as spells are just small skills of carving insects. The Draenei believe in the Light, but where was the Light when they were destroyed by Grom? The warriors of the orcs have never had much faith, and if anything, it must be blood and glory. Grom felt that there was no need for gods in this world, if the warriors had gods to believe in...... If there is a god of war, it must be himself - Grom has always believed in this.

But Grom really wanted to find a god to thank now, for these things that he didn't know where he was, so that he could meet this old enemy so quickly. Although it was not clear why the dwarven warrior who was supposed to be in Ironforge was here, Grom had no interest in thinking about it, and his body began to tremble with excitement, which made him have some uncontrollable desire to kill and fight flowing in his blood, and there was no greeting after a long absence, and there was no mutual greeting before the duel, Grom picked up the blood roar on the ground, roared and rushed towards the dwarf warrior.

Muradin had long been ready for battle. As he waited in the gate for the steel gates to be pulled up, Muradin straightened his armor under the encourageous or envious gazes of the human soldiers. I don't know how, but the human warriors seem to have known that they are about to leave the castle for a one-on-one duel with an orc.

Looking at Grom as he rushed towards him, Muradin spat on the ground in disgust - you won't be so lucky to escape death today, you are not going to be so lucky to escape death today. Imagining himself disemboweling this abominable foe, Muradin smiled cruelly at the corners of his mouth, and with his backhand removed the pair of massive city-busting axes and hammers from his back, and headed on the most formidable enemy he had ever encountered in his life.