My Frostmourne can't be so cute

"Oh... by the way, Malone, I'm curious, Sir Lothar... is your uncle, what kind of person is he?"

Altea leaned in front of Malone, looked at him and asked.

"Uncle Anduin... he is a real fighter, an excellent commander, and of course, he is also a competent uncle."

Ma Long subconsciously yelled out what this body originally called Anduin Lothar, and the image of that tall hero suddenly appeared in his mind.(To be continued.)

Thinking of this, Arthas shook his head and looked to Muradin. Although I don’t know which of the drunk dwarves who were thrown in the barracks was their leader, since Muradin is here, those dwarves must Will follow his orders.As long as Muradin opposes Danath's plan, then this bald uncle shouldn't do this kind of attack in advance.

But Arthas found something wrong with Muradin—the expression on the dwarf warrior now was very serious, as if he had seen something terrible."Muradin, what's the matter with you?" Arthas asked.Muradin's height was limited, so he could only look down through the gap in the wall, just like Arthas.

Hearing Alsace’s questioning, Muradin no longer looked out of the city on tiptoe, but turned around. His actions looked a little funny, but the expression on his face and the tone of speech were extremely heavy and serious: "Sorry, I Think I must go out of the city once. That orc is the opponent I must face."

"What?" Arthas and Danas exclaimed together.Arthas quickly asked, "Muradin, do you know that orc?" Muradin looked at everyone around him, nodded, and replied, "Yes...when Ironforge was besieged by orcs, I Fight against it."

After speaking, Muradin thought for a while, and added: "One-on-one, and several times." Muradin felt that he had spoken in enough detail, but Danas and Arthas still felt that he had not provided enough information. .Therefore, under the interrogation of the two princes, Muradin truthfully confessed the duel between himself and the orc outside the fortress outside Ironforge.

After hearing Muradin's... "story", Arthas and Danas looked at each other.Yes, it is the "story". Although Muradin is telling the story of his desperate struggle with the evil orc invaders, Arthas always has a strange feeling-why is it so like telling a story?

Unlike the scene where Arthas imagined blood and flesh flying, full of shouts, roars, curses, and screams, the so-called defense of Ironforge, is it the constant... duel between the dwarf warrior and the orc warrior?But Muradin's heart was enveloped in hatred.

Grom might think that the few battles with Muradin were enjoyable, a dialogue between the strong and the strong, which belonged to real fighters.But all Muradin’s mind thought was the 276 dwarf warriors who died in Grom’s hands, the 4,762 dwarf warriors who died in the orc invasion, and those Dwarven civilians who were mercilessly slaughtered by the orcs because they lived on the Dun Morogh Plain outside Ironforge-this is the difference between an invader and an invader, even though they are equally powerful.

Muradin’s eyes became a little blood-red, which made Danas, who had intended to dissuade him, hesitated, but still did not speak. If it were not because he was still carrying a heavy responsibility, Danas would have personally gone into battle with the orc. Then get Muradin?

But Arthas was more concerned about Muradin’s safety after all. He asked with some worry, “Muradin, did you really have the upper hand in the duel?” Muradin was not good at words, and he didn’t talk to that orc. The duel between the two was regarded as a glorious matter. Therefore, in Muradin's description, he only said lightly that he finally defeated the orc.

Muradin said it temporarily, but Arthas couldn't listen to it.Arthas was not a kid who knew nothing. In the original time flow, he had studied swordsmanship and fighting skills under Muradin and Uther. In the days of the Knights of the Silver Hand, he had duel and It is common to learn martial arts.

As an excellent warrior and paladin, Arthas knew that things were never as simple as Muradin said.While learning swordsmanship with Muradin, Arthas had repeatedly practiced against this dwarven brave; in the Knights of the Silver Hand, there were also some companions of dwarven paladins.These short, stone-like stubborn dwarves are natural warriors, and their strength is greater than that of the orcs.

But the orc outside the fortress... actually killed nearly three hundred dwarf warriors in a single fight?What a terrible combat power is this?Even when Arthas stayed in Icecrown Citadel as the Lich King, he had never seen such a powerful orc until the moment he killed himself.

Muradin took a deep look at the little human prince in front of him, nodded, and said, "Yes, since I have defeated him once, I will defeat him this time too." After speaking, Muradin came to him. Next to Arthas, he patted his shoulder lightly-and only Arthas could enjoy the treatment of being slapped on the shoulder by the dwarf-everyone else was too tall.

Muradin didn't know what was going on with this human little devil. In his impression, he had never seen this kid.But I don't know why, this little human prince named "Alsace" seems to be particularly kind to him, which makes Muradin very puzzled.

Arthas felt very helpless in his heart-in the original time flow, under the control and bewitching of the Lich King Ner'zhul, he stepped into the abyss step by step; in the cave by the Northrend Sea, Frostmourne Next to him, Muradin persuaded himself not to pull out the magic sword, but in vain, he stabbed him instead.Although I tried my best to heal Muradin with the Holy Light, I never saw or even heard even a little bit of news about Muradin since then, even the dwarves from the Ash Judgment Army came to crusade against him. All agreed that Muradin was dead.

Thanks to Frostmourne, Arthas got a chance to come back.At the moment he saw Muradin again, Arthas was extremely excited-he vowed that this time, he would never let any of his family members and mentors be harmed.But in less than a day, Muradin was about to set out to face the mighty orcs?

Although he was confident in Muradin's strength, Arthas still had some concerns.Just like when Muradin discouraged him from pulling out Frostmourne, Arthas now also hopes to keep Muradin in the fortress of Dun Modder.But the little prince understood that even if he was not controlled by the Lich King Ner'zhul, Muradin could not dissuade him from drawing his sword.

The desire for power—the power that can expel the Scourge and save Lordaeron’s subjects, made Arthas unable to resist the temptation/fascination of Frostmourne, and Muradin and Arthas are different, but in a certain This aspect is similar-they are all very persistent people.(To be continued.)

"Ma Long, wake up!"

I don't know how long it took, Ma Long was awakened by a crisp voice in his sleep.

When I opened my eyes, the blue and white moonlight had disappeared, replaced by the bright but not dazzling sunlight in the morning.

Altea Eberlock, the daughter of the leader of the refugee camp, was squatting next to Malone, looking at him with a smile.

"Get up soon, Malone! Everyone is waiting for you to eat!"

Seeing Ma Long opened his eyes, Altea still squatted beside him, urging him eagerly.

"Ok."

Ma Long shook his head to clear himself up, then slowly stood up.

"Give you!"

Altea also stood up like Malone, and then handed Malone a wet handkerchief.

"Thank you."

Malone took the wet handkerchief from Altea, and then gently wiped off his face that seemed a little dusty because he had spent the night in the wild.

After wiping his face, Ma Long subconsciously wanted to put the handkerchief away, but Altea stopped him.

"Give it back to me! This is my handkerchief!"

Altea noticed Malone's movements, and quickly reached out and retrieved her handkerchief from Malone.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought it was for me...huh? You wiped my face with your handkerchief?"

Ma Long quickly apologized, but as he was speaking, he noticed something was wrong and couldn't help but change the conversation and asked in confusion.

"Yeah!"

Altea's hand holding the handkerchief froze in the air, and then his face flushed.

"What's wrong? It's...it's an extraordinary period. To save resources, many people in the camp share a towel!"

Squeezing the handkerchief in her hand, Altea said incoherently.

"Really? Why haven't I heard of..."

Malone said to himself in doubt.

"Hurry up...hurry up! We'll be too late!"

Altea didn't want to continue to struggle with this issue, she urged Malone repeatedly, and then ran towards the middle of the camp.

"What happened to Altea today... so strange..."

Ma Long shook his head and followed.

They have been together for a few days. Although the refugees in the camp may not know each other before the outbreak of the war, they are now accustomed to relying on each other.

I don't know when a few large pots were set up in the camp, and the boiling soup in the pot exudes a faint milk fragrance.

At times like this, naturally you can't expect to eat anything good; what is being cooked in a big pot is dry cheese, a little bit of bacon mixed with a little rice, and it is half porridge and half soup.

Refugees formed a neat line in front of the cauldron. The elderly, women and children stood at the front of the line, while soldiers and other men lined up behind.

Several sturdy women stood behind the cauldron, filling the containers in their hands for every refugee; some of these containers were wooden bowls, some were iron plates, the more difficult ones, and they might even be cleaned. The soles of the leather boots are modified.

"Thank the Holy Light!"

An old man over half a hundred years old, crouched, he said loudly when a woman filled the wooden bowl in his hand with meat porridge.

"Okay, next one! Even if you thank the Holy Light, I won't give you any more!"