The Horde army had been stopped!
They had captured Lordaeron's walls, only to be held back at its countless alleyways.
The remaining Alliance soldiers, along with the civilians of Lordaeron who had taken up arms, held every house and every battle line in the city.
The soldiers of the Blackrock Clan and the Warsong Clan did everything they could, taking alley after alley and killing human after human...
But time was slipping away all the while.
Four hours, eight hours, twelve hours, sixteen hours, twenty-four hours!
The Horde paid in blood to occupy those alleyways; yet moments after they left, armed Alliance forces would retake them.
Bitter fighting raged in every corner of Lordaeron.
To the south, Alterac's orange-clad army had already reached a point less than a dozen or so li from Lordaeron, and Eitrigg had led a band of Blackrock warriors to stop them; to the west, Gilneas's black-clad army had also crossed Silverpine Forest, and Varok Saurfang was establishing defenses there.
Alliance reinforcements were approaching from every direction, but the Horde's fighting within the city had made little headway.
Even though every Horde warrior was doing his utmost.
Orgrim Doomhammer walked through the streets of Lordaeron, watching his surroundings carefully.
An armed human could spring from any seemingly ordinary house nearby and deal him a fatal blow.
Quite a few Horde warriors had already lost their lives this way. Though they would then wipe out the humans in those houses as quickly as possible, or even set fire to them and burn them along with their homes, those damned humans were like locusts: kill one group, and another would soon emerge.
Orgrim felt some admiration for these humans' leader. What he had done was command these recruits and civilians to do everything they could to hold