The ancient Warsong Clan of Lordaeron echoed over Andorhal, the hoarse voices of the Undead singing a chorus carrying an indescribable sense of desolation and tragedy.
Without command or tactics, countless Undead surged forward like a tidal wave.
Whether it was Uther's Silver Hand, Thrall's Orcs Legions, or the Elf rangers who joined later, none of them suffered any losses when they slaughtered the people of Lordaeron, the Undead.
The Paladin's Holy Light, which counters the Undead, the Orcs's terrifyingly heavy Battle Axe, and the Elf ranger's rain of arrows can all easily take away swarms of Undead.
The Undead are far too weak, barely stronger than a newborn baby, making them as easy to kill as mowing grass.
Their past experiences led them to underestimate the enemy before them, even though the Undead were so numerous that they seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see.
Uther walked leisurely towards his group. Although they hadn't slept all night and were exhausted, the Paladins didn't care about the Undead and were going to slaughter them as before.
Now that the Undead are gathered together, it saves them the trouble of playing hide-and-seek everywhere.
The Paladins of the Silver Hand mounted their tall warhorses, forming a neat Charge formation. Their young faces were relaxed, with no doubt about the victory that was about to be won.
The Orcs stood in a relatively loose formation, each maintaining a certain distance from the others, to ensure that they wouldn't accidentally harm their teammates after going berserk.
They continued to joke carelessly about the approaching Undead, showing no concern whatsoever.
Sylvanas's Elf game gathered together. The High Elves were always stingy with their arrows, and it was not worth using them on the weak Undead. They drew their elven Elf, intending to engage in close combat and cut them down.
"Brave Paladins, Charge at the enemy and slaughter them all!"
Uther raised his gleaming warhammer, Paladins, in perfect formation, charged fearlessly towards the people of Lordaeron.
When the first Paladin, horse and all, was pinned to the ground by the Undead, Uther's expression changed.
Uther then realized he was wrong.
These Undead are quite different from the previous Undead in terms of running speed, strength, and stamina.
As if overnight, the Undead suddenly became stronger.
The Undead roared, and the Paladin's screams quickly ceased. A brief chant followed, and the Paladin, now just a skeleton, rose from the ground, his weapon aimed at his comrade.
"What kind of Evil magic is this?" Uther exclaimed in horror.
Compared to the Paladin maintained their battle formation, the Orcs suffered far greater losses.
The Orcs, scattered too far apart, were quickly overwhelmed by the sea of Undead and went into a berserk state. Although they reaped large numbers of Undead, once they were exhausted and weakened, they were quickly torn apart by the Undead around them.
The Orcs were not worthy to rise again; their souls had been torn apart by countless Restless Souls.
The Elf rangers paid the price for their Pride.
The rangers, known for their agility, found themselves rendered useless amidst the dense horde of Undead; their formation was swiftly broken up and they were surrounded and annihilated.
Under the Holy Light of the Paladins, the Battle Axes of the Orcs, and the scimitars of the Elf rangers, swarms of Undead fell, and more Undead surged forward.
Unafraid of death, undaunted by sacrifice, life is but a brilliant flash of light.
Uther, you will pay for your crimes.
Even with only its head remaining, an Undead still clung desperately to Uther's armor.
"You are Evil creatures, we, the Silver Hand, are the Justice."
Uther, his face covered in dust, roared, "You are nothing but filthy scum, a defeated and weak race! Brave Paladins, slaughter them all! The Holy Light is with us!"
Uther activated the Heroic Aura on his armor, causing the golden armor to gleam and shine like a guiding light in the darkness, illuminating the direction the Paladins should take.
"My children, the Holy Light will remember your deeds, and history will surely remember your courage and sacrifice. In the process of defeating powerful Evil, sacrifice is inevitable."
Uther quietly retreated. Whenever the battle against the Orcs turned against him, Uther would wisely make a similar choice. He was searching for Jaina; only Jaina could save them from the encirclement now.
In the heart of the Battlefield, in Anjing area bought with countless lives, Jaina was preparing a teleportation spell.
"Jaina, do you want to run away alone?"
Thrall's booming voice rang out. Seeing that the battle was going badly, he quickly poured out a large amount of Rage Potion. Combined with his Heroic Totem, the Orcs Warriors, once again enraged, were able to buy some time.
"You retreated very quickly, Thrall."
Sylvanas, standing gracefully to the side, mocked Thrall, whose Elf ranger was about to collapse.
"Each other, each other."
Thrall, his face grim, turned and saw Uther and Saurfang standing on either side of Jaina.
"This is a retreat of Justice. Today's retreat is only for a future comeback, for the day when light and victory arrive," Uther declared righteously.
Saurfang brandished his Battle Axe and sneered:
"I heard you tell similar jokes countless times when we Orcs were fighting against us."
"Anjing. I need to think." Jaina was carefully preparing her spell. "I hope the power bestowed upon me by the Guardian won't go wrong. Mass Teleport."
A series of flashes of light appeared, and the heroes present vanished.
While the brave Warrior were still fighting valiantly, their commanders had already retreated to a safe area.
"This is an unforgivable war crime; this is blatant murder."
East of Andorhal, near Chillwind Camp, outside the camp of the Three-Faction Allied Forces, Thrall jumped up and roared:
"Six hundred valiant Orcs Warriors perished in Andorhal. You Evil people of Lordaeron, I will tear you to pieces with my own hands."
"The Silver Hand has lost over a thousand Paladins," Uther said grimly, his face dark.
"Every Elf ranger is a great warrior; they should not have sacrificed themselves in vain." Sylvanas bit her lip, her eyes burning with anger.
"I will gather the Orcs army, I will annihilate these damned Undead!" Thrall roared.
"Have you ever wondered why these Undead have become stronger?" Uther asked. "Before, we slaughtered them as easily as tearing apart rag dolls. Now, they're practically like living people."
Jaina drank a magical potion, and her pale complexion, caused by excessive spellcasting, improved considerably.
"We have spies within the Cult of the Damned. Although they've established a laboratory, their research on the Undead is progressing slowly; there must be some unknown, mysterious force helping them."
"The Evil people of Lordaeron, how dare they slaughter our noble Orcs! Just wait, they are destined to become the common enemy of all Azeroth!" Thrall sneered.
Uther shook his head. "The Undead have become stronger, but their combat power is still limited. As long as we gather a large army, annihilating them will be a piece of cake. What I'm worried about is Stratholme. If this drags on any longer..."
"Stratholme must be destroyed." Sylvanas has long coveted Stratholme.
"In preparation for the upcoming great battle, we Orcs need to replenish our rations," Thrall said cruelly, his Evil gaze fixed on Hearthglen.
"If Tirion Fordring isn't willing to contribute his wife and son, hehe..."
\
That's far from enough.
Arthas knelt on the ground, having witnessed the great battle of Andorhal. Although the Undead had achieved a commendable victory, they had also paid a heavy price, managing to eliminate only a small number of enemies.
"They are just ordinary people, Prince Arthas," Robbie said. "You need to mold them into a true Legion."
The Scourge.