The shadows buried in the city were activated, as if sending a signal to go to war.

As the low roar of a frost-covered Nefarian tore through the night of Stormwind, the undead besieged Stormwind's thick walls began to besiege the city.

In the dark night, the soul fire that glowed pale made the soldiers guarding the city walls seem to see the messenger of doom, and the moment the skeleton began to climb the city wall, the artillery placed above the city gate opened fire, and the thunderous shelling turned the noisy night into madness.

Commanding the siege is the Grand Lich Khadgar, who commands the Darkblade's legions with a brutal wisdom and a simple and direct way of thinking unique to mages, unlike Tyrion, who likes to do a lot of "useless things", Khadgar has promised to capture Stormwind for the King of the Darkblades, so at the beginning of the siege, he directly used the Darkblade's most powerful war weapon.

Colossus!

Although the sunlight cannon behind the Colossus cannot be activated in the dark of night, the Colossus itself with powerful destructive power is an excellent siege weapon.

The walls of Stormwind City are 6 meters high, the three-layer reinforced masonry is painted white, and the blue flag flutters above the sentry posts of the city wall.

They stood on the black sentry and looked up to see the ugly face of the Colossus of Gollon, the one-eyed one that glowed blood-red, and the eyes that were as tall as an adult.

"Whoa"

These predators at the top of the food chain of the world of Draenor roared, venting the pain and anger of death on the walls in front of them, and the colossi swung their sturdy, steel-wrapped arms and claws, like angry children smashing toys, swept the soldiers on the walls into the sky as they tried to fight back, and then clenched their fists and slammed down on the solid walls in front of them.

"Bang"

The low sound of the crash shook half of the ground of Stormwind, and the soldiers on the city walls panicked and dodged their fists like cannonballs falling, and under the orders of the roaring old marshal, they aimed the undestroyed cannon at Goron's head, lit the fire rope, and in the sound of the cannon being discharged, the old marshal Wendthor held his heavy sword and stared at the crazy Goron in front of him.

"Bang"

The scorching cannonball smashed accurately on Golon's ugly head, and the ignited gunpowder inside exploded, like fireworks in the night, and the skull of Goron who was hit made a low sound, it shook and fell to the ground, and its entire face was torn apart by the explosion, looking terrifying to the extreme, but before the human defenders could cheer, Goron trembled and crawled up again.

Even the white bones could be seen in the wounds on its cheeks, and even the ugly eyes were wounded, but it seemed that it didn't feel pain at all, and in the midst of the burst of death energy, the siege beast swung its fist and sent a death sweep on the wall in front of it, throwing the soldiers and the gathered artillery down the wall.

Marshal Wendthor, who was lying on the ground, looked back, the bodies of those soldiers struggled weakly in the air, and then fell to the ground behind them, falling to pieces, this scene made the old marshal's heart sad and angry.

He turned his head and straightened up on the walls of the Gorons, his long gray hair dancing in the night sky filled with gunsmoke and the smell of blood, and he couldn't figure out why the country he had sworn to defend had suffered such a fate, when they had nothing to do with these undead!

A nameless fire burned in the marshal's heart, making the warrior in his twilight years breathe heavily in the battlefield of hell, and he raised his two-handed sword in his hand, his eyes reflected on the blood-stained blade, and in this dark night of war, Wendthor saw his end.

"For the Empire!"

He roared, as he had done when he had been young, as he had done when he had killed orcs in the Burning Plains, and the blood was surging in his veins, and he had to vent this powerless pain.

He leapt from the imminent destruction of the wall, and in the burning fire of his rage, he swung his two-handed sword, pouring all his strength into the blow, like a sword of sanction falling from the sky, and pierced the sharp heavy sword into the eye socket of the head in front of him with precision.

The sharp blade pierced the blood-red one-eye, like a red-hot needle, and pierced into the beast's brain, completely cutting off what little thought and wisdom it had left.

"Whew!"

Even a dead beast, suffering such a fatal injury, would feel pain in the weak soul, this Golon went crazy in an instant, its fists wrapped in steel danced wildly in the air, and Marshal Wendsol was like a leaf in the wind, clutching the long sword in his hand, trying not to be thrown out by the monster's counterattack.

At the moment when the giant beast fell to the ground, the old marshal let go of his hands and jumped to the ground, but behind him, Death Goron's final counterattack, the fist wrapped in steel swung in the air, hitting the old marshal in the air, and being hit in the back by a huge force made Wendthor like a stone that had been thrown away, and was smashed into the darkness in the distance.

"Bang"

He slammed his way through a long fall and smashed into the trunk of a tree in the forest outside Stormwind, and he fell to the ground, trying to get up with difficulty, but the shattering of his spine made him lose control of his body completely.

The veteran lay in the cold night, letting the blood flow from his wounds, the image before him had become blurry and dim, and he knew that his end was near.

And in the night around him, there were endless undead activities in the air, and the old marshal could see that among the awakened walking corpses, there were also some corpses wearing Stormwind uniforms, which were the soldiers who died on the battlefield of the East Valley, and they also joined this death march.

Behind him, the towering, impregnable walls of the Golons had already made an overwhelming noise, the masonry fell, the cracks were thick, and perhaps the next moment, the walls that could protect the entire city would be completely destroyed by the irresistible force brought by the undead.

And then... And then there is the kingdom for which he has devoted his life and all his kingdoms, which will be completely buried by history in a dead ruin.

"Ahem."

The old marshal coughed with difficulty, braced himself with his aching arms, leaned himself against the bloodied trunk, and tried to meet the impending death with a calm posture.

The surrounding undead spotted the living man, and they surrounded him, and the old marshal subconsciously reached out to his waist, but there was no weapon to defend himself there.

"Stand down!"

An icy voice rang out in the night, and the surrounding undead obediently moved out of the way, and Windsor looked up and saw the orc Deathlord with a black battle axe striding towards him.

The Death Knight, dressed in black armor and wearing skeletal shoulder armor on his shoulders, stood in front of him, reaching out and taking off his horned helmet, revealing the face that was familiar to Windsor.

"Ha, Sarufar!"

The old marshal smiled with difficulty in pain, and the blood stained his beard, lips, and teeth, making his smile look a little hideous:

"Are you here to laugh at me? You defeated! ”

"On the orders of Your Majesty, I have come to seek you, Marshal Wendthor."

There was not much emotion in Sarufar's eyes, the two had fought more than once in the orc war, each had its own victory and defeat, and it was a real old opponent, he looked at the old soldier in front of him who was struggling to clench his fists, he did not use a weapon, but stretched out his hands, and in Wendsol's struggle, he carried this old opponent who was no longer able to move on his shoulders.

Under the silent gaze of the necromancers, the Death Lord strode away from the battlefield with the old marshal on his shoulder, and he whispered:

"It's time for you to go home, Reginald. Windsol. ”

And at the moment when the marshal's breathing finally stopped, the walls of Stormwind City behind him also completely collapsed under the bombardment of the Death Gorons, but the human defenders were still struggling in the ruins of masonry, trying by all means to block the undead who were pouring into the nest.

It is like a flame washed by the tide, even if it is fleeting, but it also proves that lifeless masonry is not as strong as a warrior.

—————————————————

"Whew"

The Frost Dragon, transformed by Tyrion's own hands, soared through the skylines of Stormwind, and under its rage, half of the city's buildings were covered in the cold frost, and the civilians who did not escape were considered lucky, and their departure did not feel much pain in this deadly low temperature.

The Black Dragons, who have temporarily reached a cooperation intention with the royal family of Stormwind, carry the Grand Knight Fording and his paladins to contain the increasingly powerful Nefarian and those bone dragons in the sky, in order to ensure the evacuation of civilians to the port.

But there weren't enough ships to send all the civilians out of this hell that was about to be overwhelmed by the dead, and even if the Emperor of Lothar himself and his last soldiers fought to the death against the undead who swept through the city in the business district of Stormwind, it would not change the inevitable outcome of the city.

Tyrion did not recklessly launch a general attack, he was like a hard-working spider, before the real war, he used intrigue and sneaky actions to compile a web of death for Stormwind, and before the deadly knife was cut down, Stormwind's fate was actually clearly arranged.

But such a strategy cannot be used many times, with the disaster of Stormwind City in front of it, the human countries in the northern frontier will inevitably become very vigilant, which means that in the future conquest, it may be more of an extreme death match of an inch of land and an inch of blood.

And in this regard, the undead, who will not be afraid, occupy an absolute advantage.

"Take them away!"

Stormstorm Fortress has not yet recovered from the last attack by Archbishop Twilight, and some broken bricks and stones have made the king's palace somewhat bleak, and at this time, just as the city is facing the edge of life and death, the ruler of Stormwind, 23-year-old Varian. King Ureon was sitting on his throne.

He wore the armor inherited from the King of Stormwind, which was black and blue, and the mighty armor with a black lion's head on his shoulders, and he carried a two-handed sword, and in front of him, the most loyal royal butler, Will. Benton and the royal guards who swore allegiance to the king.

And in the arms of the butler, the 2-year-old little prince Anduin. Wryon slept soundly in his swaddling clothes, and even on the night of destruction, nothing seemed to stop the little prince's sweet dreams, and beside the butler lay a movable hospital bed, on which lay the unconscious Queen Tiffany, the love of his Majesty's life.

The king, seated on the throne, looked at his son and wife with a delicate gaze that could not be separated, he stood up and reached out to take the little prince, and at this moment, the young king's face was full of tenderness, and he leaned down and kissed the prince on the forehead, and then kissed the unconscious queen.

The next moment, the king, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes, handed the prince to the faithful butler and said to him:

"Vir, make sure to get my son and wife safe to Lordaeron... Leave it to King Terenus, who raised me like a father, and I am confident that under King Terenus's teachings, my son will also become a truly good king. ”

"But Your Majesty! Come with us, the people need your guidance, and Prince Anduin needs his father to be by his side, not here... Senseless battle death! ”

The old butler burst into tears, and the chief guard beside the king begged King Varian to leave.

But the young king had already made up his mind, and he listened to the sound of war in the night outside the fortress, and he took a deep breath, and put the lion's helmet on his head, and said in an urn voice:

"I have made up my mind, I want to live and die with this city... This is the mission and duty of the king! Go, take away my last concerns, let me face the coming of death with courage and no regrets. ”

The king turned and looked at his throne, and behind him, the stewards and guards finally turned away, protecting the bloodline of the House of Wrynn, the loyalty of all servants loyal to the royal family engraved in their bones.

But just a moment later the sound of the bed moving on the ground sounded again, and the young king frowned, and he turned back and rebuked angrily:

"I command you..."

Behind the king, with the little prince in his arms, Tyrion pushing the queen's hospital bed. Dawnblade looked with interest at Varian in front of him, and behind him, there were still hideous bloody footprints that stretched from the entrance of the Stormwind Fortress to the King's Hall.

The loyal royal guards roared and pounced on the Darkblade King, but the crimson energy of death rose beneath their feet like black-red lightning, grabbing their necks and lifting their suffocating bodies into the air, leaving them to struggle powerlessly in the face of death.

In the dead silence of the King's Hall, the King of the Dark Blades and the King of Ureon looked at each other, and he stroked the hair of the sleeping little prince in his arms, and he asked softly:

"Who do you want to order? My little king..."