Chapter 481: Nighttime Aerial Battle (Part I)

In history, Muradin's brother, Brann Bronzebeard, founded an organization known as the Explorer's League.

Later, Muradin's adventures took him to the icy hell of Northrend in the far north. There, he began the search for a cursed sword called Frostmourne. However, he became surrounded by a vast army of the undead and was forced to retreat. Amidst the relentless assault of the undead forces, he found himself rescued by his old friend, Arthas.

Thus, Muradin followed Arthas step by step down a path of no return. Even when he saw Arthas defy his father's orders, burn the ships as they departed, and even recruit local mercenaries to fight for him only to treacherously kill them later, Muradin never abandoned his friend.

It was only after defeating the guardians and finding Frostmourne that Muradin read the inscriptions, informing him that it was a cursed blade, and he prepared to leave immediately. But Arthas paid no heed; he approached the pedestal and took the sword. The blade burst from its icy prison, and shards flew out like spears, piercing Muradin.

Muradin did not die, but the wound became a pain that would forever linger in his heart...

Duke sighed inwardly. He was unwilling to send these dwarves to their deaths. Moreover, the most crucial piece of the puzzle in the plan was still missing.

Muradin was enthusiastic about warring with the orcs, but unfortunately, with the dragons' interference, the war between the Alliance and the orcs had become a trivial matter.

Compared to Deathwing, the more than one hundred thousand orcs in Khaz Modan were of no significance.

Duke muttered in his heart: "Neltharion, where the hell are you?"

At the very moment Duke was pondering, he suddenly felt two lines of sight, strange ones that seemed ordinary but suddenly changed.

Duke turned his head, and no stranger was in sight. In the command post, apart from his five-person squad, there were Muradin and Falstad, who had just run off to flirt with Vereesa. Falstad was the captain of the gryphon squadron sent by Kurdran Wildhammer to his cousin Magni. Since gryphons were not needed in Ironforge's city defense, he ended up with Muradin.

For an instant, Duke almost doubted his feeling.

But who was Duke?

The best transmigrator in the troubled hell-level world of Azeroth.

Duke, who called himself an "old driver of hell," always trusted his intuition. He firmly believed that the so-called intuition of danger was the brain's judgment on dangerous situations. Maybe his rational mind hadn't reacted, but his brain had already identified it as a dangerous situation, notifying Duke through intuition.

Something was amiss!

Duke made a plan.

"Falstad, are you familiar with the patrol routes of the orc dragon riders?" Duke asked.

Falstad was eager to show off his prowess in front of Vereesa: "If it were those brainless green-skins commanding the red dragons, I might be concerned. You can never reason with a fool about what a pattern is."

Everyone in the command post laughed at his comment. Orc commanders might have brains, but the majority were pure brutes. Dealing with such individuals was a headache for both friends and foes.

Falstad's voice rose an octave: "But I've found that those idiotic green-skins have been played by the red dragons. Not every red dragon is willing to serve the green-skins. The red dragons have deliberately made a patrolling area that seems rigorous but is full of holes. If ye trust me, I can lead ye with the gryphons under the cover of night to the foot of Grim Batol."

This was the advantage of having a local guide.

If Kurdran were to lead the army directly, it would likely turn into a large-scale aerial battle.

The Wildhammer dwarves were not afraid of death, but Duke wasn't so wasteful.

Duke whistled: "Not bad. If we can avoid the orc's main camp and get to the foot of the mountain, I can lead my squad directly into Grim Batol using illusions."

Recalling how Duke had deceived the red dragons above with a wide-area illusion, Muradin grumbled: "Magic's indeed handy. I thought that to rescue the Red Dragon Queen, we'd need at least an elite group of knights and rangers."

Duke patted Muradin's shoulder, looking at his team: "Alright, let's vote. Do ye trust our Wildhammer brother?"

"Whatever." The indifferent Gavinrad shrugged.

"I will follow your command," Ronin bowed his head.

Marian frowned, but Vereesa spoke directly: "What if we run into a dragon rider patrol?"

Falstad proudly thumped his chest: "If it's fewer than four red dragons, our Wildhammer gryphon squadron will tell those big lizards that this is dwarf territory!"

A gryphon knight squadron consisted of about 15 to 20 gryphon riders. Indeed, this was not a weak force.

Seeing Vereesa's furrowed brows, Falstad reassured: "Don't ye worry. If something goes wrong, we'll prioritize getting ye and the Paladin to the ground first."

Falstad elegantly ignored the three mages.

That's right, mages with the "Slow Fall" spell couldn't die from a fall.

In the summer, a moonless black night is hard to find.

Duke and his group waited three days in Muradin's lair for the desired weather. With an uneasy heart, Vereesa rode a gryphon with Falstad.

The gryphon beneath her let out a triumphant call to its neighbor, as if mocking that while it carried an additional light elf maiden, the one next door bore a fully armored, burly Paladin.

The gryphon next door was clearly displeased, and the dwarf rider had to add a large piece of raw meat before taking off.

Apparently, either Falstad's patrol route was wrong, or their luck had run out.

Despite the dim moonlight, two new spots in the distance caught the attention of the gryphon team. The spots moved and grew larger, coming straight at them.

"What are those?" In the strong wind of high-speed flight, Falstad leaned forward, looking back at Vereesa, knowing that the elf ranger had better night vision.

"By the name of the Sunwell! Those are two dragons!" Vereesa cried out.

At this moment, she detested the boastful dwarf gryphon rider in front of her.

What happened to the quiet entry and silent shooting?

Dragons, and two of them at that.

"Are they red?" Falstad asked, unwilling to give up.

"Does it matter? Dragons are dragons; what other colored dragons would appear on this battlefield? They're coming at us at high speed!" Vereesa yelled.