Dathrohan led a squad of Silver Hand Paladins, moving forward silently.
Most of the Silver Hand Paladins fled to Mograine, but even so, their numbers were roughly equal to the original garrison of Stratholme. However, their morale was extremely low, and everyone was listless.
Although Dathrohan was the nominal commander of the Silver Hand, he was not qualified to attend the Allied Forces' meetings.
He didn't know the specific battle plan; Uther had only assigned him the task.
Create chaos within Stratholme, then gather your forces and, in coordination with the Orcs from within, capture the city gates.
He saw the mages of Dalaran busily preparing the Teleportation Array.
Also present was a repulsive figure, the Dreadlord Mal'Ganis, with enormous bat wings. This monster, floating in the air, would join him in the raid on Stratholme.
When Mal'Ganis saw Dathrohan, the Dreadlord narrowed his eyes and revealed a meaningful, cunning smile.
Thinking of his impending Destiny, Dathrohan felt a chill run through him, his blood seemingly frozen.
As Uther, bathed in Holy Light and with a pair of golden wings rising from his back, slowly ascended into the air, the siege of Stratholme began once again.
Uther's opponent was none other than the silent Robbie.
Robbie, clad in Arthas's golden armor and wearing a black skull mask, wielding the warhammer of Justice of the Holy Light, also floated in the air, facing Uther.
Uther immediately recognized him as his first opponent.
So where is Prince Arthas?
Arthas, clutching the Axe of Tyranny, was completely focused, staring intently at the plaza, listening carefully to the information from the Restless Souls.
Despite the presence of ragtag armies from various lords, Stratholme's military strength remained extremely strained, with most soldiers gathered near the city walls, preparing to confront the Orcs.
Arthas had few troops with him, so he had to execute a brilliant ambush.
Fifteen Magic Beacons, fifteen teleportation points. Arthas was very wary; he didn't completely trust Archmage Antonidas. After the Restless Souls's careful investigation, it turned out that this cunning Archmage was indeed hiding something; he had even deceived Thrall.
There are actually eighteen teleportation points.
Most teleportation points are located in dark and hidden corners, such as in a basement or a cave. There is no need to waste troops; simply seal off the basement or cave, and the Silver Hand Paladins will be trapped inside.
A few teleportation points are located in courtyards or inside houses.
In times of high troop strength, there is no time to attend to anything else. Flammable materials are piled up at the teleportation point, doused with oil, and then ignited as soon as the teleportation is complete and a figure appears.
The only real headache was the teleportation locations for Dathrohan and Mal'Ganis, which were situated in a large plaza in Stratholme.
Arthas and his men searched the entire plaza, but they couldn't find the Magic Beacon.
Prince Highness doesn't know much about magic, especially the beacon specially made by Antonidas. Once the direction is set, it merges with space, making it impossible for anyone other than Antonidas to find.
Therefore, Arthas could only wait for the other party to arrive.
"Are you ready, Your Prince?"
A whisper emanated from within the Axe of Tyranny: "The power of the Dreadlord will help you understand the Runes of the Dead. The Burning Legion once referenced the power of the Runes of the Dead; many of their units were created based on the principles of the Mutation Rune."
Arthas knew very well that to win, he had to understand his opponent first. This duel with the Dreadlord Mal'Ganis was an excellent opportunity, perhaps allowing him to comprehend the secrets of the fifth Runes of the Dead.
Teleportation doesn't feel good, especially for newbies experiencing it for the first time.
A wave of dizziness washed over him, and before his eyes could even adjust to the light, Dathrohan felt his feet touch the ground. He heard the sound of arrows piercing flesh and heard incessant screams.
"Damn it, there's an ambush."
Dathrohan quickly forced himself to calm down. The power of the Holy Light gathered within him, and he finally saw everything around him clearly. It was a square, surrounded by many obstacles, forming a simple encirclement.
Arrows shot out from behind the obstacles, and shouts of battle echoed from all directions; the number of enemies was unknown.
After a volley of arrows, not many of Dathrohan's Paladins fell. However, the Paladins, demoralized and unwilling to fight, scattered and fled.
"Charge."
Dathrohan saw Prince Arthas striding towards him, holding a terrifying turquoise Battle Axe.
"If Prince Arthas is here, then who is on the city wall?"
Without a second thought, Dathrohan rushed to meet him.
Unfortunately, Arthas's target wasn't him; with just a casual strike, Dathrohan was severely injured and fell to the ground, unable to get up.
"I never imagined the difference in strength between me and Prince Arthas would be so vast!"
Practicing the Fel Secret Arts of the Dreadlord had left Dathrohan with very little Holy Light. He was now barely stronger than an ordinary soldier. Dathrohan coughed up blood clots, looked up at the sky, and gave a bitter smile.
He was, after all, an important general of the Silver Hand, Antonidas gave him a Teleportation Rune, which would allow him to teleport back to camp once used.
But he didn't want to leave yet; he wanted to see the battle between the Dreadlord and Arthas.
The main gate of Stratholme.
Baron Rivendare, chewing on a pipe, stood on a high platform overlooking the city walls. He looked on with a serious expression, holding a telescope and keeping a close eye on the battle situation on the walls.
On the table in front of him was a small wooden shelf covered with small black, white, and red flags.
Each flag represents a unit, bearing the name of the unit. Black flags represent the ragtag armies of various lords, white flags represent the original garrison of Stratholme, and small red flags represent the suicide squad, of which there are only ten, led by the baron's ten sons.
The Rivendare family was large and prosperous, but the wars over the years inevitably caused some losses, with many dying. However, ten sons still survived. These ten Rivendare were all valiant generals who had experienced many battles and were the Baron's most trusted loyal followers.
The mages need to replenish their magic; they can only teleport a limited number of Orcs onto the city walls at a time.
When an Orcs group scales the city wall, the defenders on the wall will pounce on them. The physical difference between humans and Orcs is too great, and the defenders are often killed within minutes.
The baron must choose a suitable flag to replace the defenders on the city walls before the garrison is wiped out.
This newly joined force will quickly wipe out the Orcs, and then a new Orcs force will teleport up the city walls and easily eliminate the defenders.
This process is repeated repeatedly.
This is a cycle of life and death. All the generals are silently watching everything, waiting for the baron to take down the flag representing his own army, then lead his troops to charge up the city walls, annihilate the Orcs, and wait to be annihilated by new Orcs.
A simple strategy: exchanging human lives for Orcs lives.
The blood quickly stained the city walls, and the defenders needed to do one thing: throw the Orcs corpses off the walls as soon as possible.
Thrall, standing on the tower, was astonished to find that the Orcs were constantly being consumed on the city wall. That short section of the wall seemed like the gaping maw of a giant, swallowing up one Orcs army after another. After more than a dozen teleportations and the sacrifice of thousands of Orcs Warriors, they still could not gain a foothold on the city wall.
What's going on?
Thrall couldn't believe his eyes; the humans had achieved a near one-to-one kill ratio against the Orcs.
If this outcome had been predetermined, the Orcs would never have needed to invade Azeroth Continent; they would have been driven back to their homeland long ago.
Sylvanas's eyes were sharp. She observed Anjing for a moment, then smiled sarcastically:
"The berserk Orcs seems unable to control his mouth."