Shandis Feathermoon extended her right hand, clutching a stack of Teleportation Scrolls.
Tyrande turned pale, her usual confidence gone, and screamed, "Are you crazy?"
General Feathermoon was a very good pickpocket; in front of Tyrande, she smiled as she destroyed the Teleportation Scrolls one by one.
Tyrande knelt on the ground, gazing at the tattered scrolls scattered around, sinking into despair. The Teleportation Scrolls were her source of confidence, not the Elune.
"When we are defeated, pray to your Elune and see if she will save you," Shandris Feathermoon said, turning and leaving.
Shandis Feathermoon knew that tomorrow's battle would be the Night Elves' final swan song.
General Feathermoon's secret mage force joined the Battlefield, boosting the morale of the routy Night Elves.
The secret mage squads of the Night Elves are different from traditional mages; they always hide themselves, and dense primeval forests, mist-shrouded canyons, and dark caves may all be their hiding places.
Throughout its ten-thousand-year history, the Secret Mage Corps has fought many battles, but has never truly shown its face. It always delivers a devastating blow to its opponents at the most crucial moment, and then quickly disappears without a trace.
Maiev's Watchers have returned, bringing with them the waters of Mount Hyjal. Now, the Night Elves are on the verge of collapse, with nothing left but victory, and can only once again gather these magically potent lake waters.
Arrows soaked in lake water can penetrate the armor of the Burning Legion soldiers. Armor coated with lake water can withstand the burning of Infernal. Even the most loyal followers of the Moon Goddess can only remain silent in such a situation.
Fandral Staghelm is back, tirelessly teaching everyone the spells of the Flame Druid. They only have one night; learn as much as they can.
Whenever the Night Elf race rely on the Elune, all they face is defeat, sacrifice, and heavy wounds.
Only by relying on ourselves can we hope to win, but unfortunately we realized this too late, and there wasn't enough time.
The traditional Druids, led by Cenarius and Malfurion, refused to accept Fandral Staghelm's teachings, even though they knew that traditional Druid spells were of little use in the fight against the Burning Legion.
Malfurion scattered the Druids to act as scouts; this was probably their only purpose.
There are still more than ten fortresses behind, but it is pointless to divide the troops to defend them now. All forces are converging on the nineteenth fortress for a final battle for dignity.
The remaining Ancient of War were armed, and the waters of the lake at Mount Hyjal were irrigated; the Night Elves had made their final preparations.
Tyrande climbed to the top of the city wall and looked down at the dark mass of her people.
At the recent war council, she loudly suggested retreat, but even she knew that the Night Elves had no way out.
The soldiers, lined up in neat rows, calmly gazed eastward, awaiting the sunrise; solemn expressions were etched on every face.
Tyrande opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but aside from praising the Elune, she didn't know how to comfort the soldiers. In the end, she shook her head and walked down the city wall.
Fandral Staghelm climbed to the top of the city wall. He was the commander of the final battle, just as Cenarius and Malfurion had done after their defeat in the War of the Shifting Sands, only now he felt the same despair.
The sun rose on time, and as its light bathed the earth, the thunderous war drums sounded, and the Burning Legion launched its attack.
Using the same tactics as yesterday, green Fel clouds first drifted toward the Night Fortress, and then the Eredar Mages began casting spells, using Infernal as the first wave of attack.
Fandral Staghelm calmly directed the battle, scattering Ancient of War throughout the fortress. Whenever an Infernal descended, an Ancient of War would entangle it, and then the surrounding Night Elf archers would help eliminate the Infernal.
Azgalor, the Pit Lord, stood on high ground, carefully observing the battle at the fortress. He noticed that this time was different from the previous day; the thousands of Infernal that had fallen into the fortress were quickly Pain Suppression, and the fortress did not burn as fiercely as it had the day before.
It's important to understand that the Burning Legion's Infernal can be recycled if it's not destroyed; however, if it is, the loss would be enormous.
"Foolish Night Elves, yesterday's slaughter has finally taught them the use of magic, but it's all in vain. Doom has come."
Azgalor, his massive, mountain-like body Charge toward the fortress walls.
This fortress was not as sturdy as the first fortress that served as the gateway, but Azgalor his charge would be enough to breach the walls, and if the Legion's army stormed in, it would be the end of the night.
"Feel the fury of the Flame's power!"
Fandral Staghelm made his move, and dozens of Flame vines firmly Charge Azgalor was halfway through his charge.
"Damn Flame Druid." Azgalor stared at Fandral Staghelm in the distance and cast Doomsday Curse.
Doom Curse is Azgalor's signature ability. Dark shadows parasitize the opponent's body, absorbing the host's soul to grow, from which a Doomguard is born.
Fandral Staghelm waved his hand, flames scorching his body and banishing the shadow parasite. Azgalor frowned immediately, only to see Fandral Staghelm wave his hand again, and countless arrows rained down on Azgalor.
The Pit Lord Azgalor was thick-skinned and protected by thick armor and scales, making him difficult to harm with ordinary arrows. However, the Night Elves shot arrows imbued with the water of Mount Hyjal, a magical power that made Azgalor feel extremely uncomfortable, causing his Fel to gradually diminish.
Large numbers of the Legion soldiers rushed over to protect their commanders and launched a fierce attack on the Nighthold, immediately escalating the battle into a fierce confrontation.
This is what a more normal battle of offense and defense should be like, with both attack and defense, rather than a one-sided massacre.
On a distant hillside, Archimonde and Mannoroth watched the siege unfold.
Archimonde was unsurprised and said with a smile, "Mannoroth, your men have encountered difficulties."
At this moment, Mannoroth stood upright on his hind legs, exposing his belly. For a Pit Lord, this posture was extremely uncomfortable, symbolizing that Mannoroth was furious to the extreme.
"Foolish Azgalor, has your brain been burned by the lake waters of Mount Hyjal? Lord Archimonde, let me fight, to replace this muscle-bound idiot."
Archimonde shook his head, gazing at the towering mountains and countless primeval forests surrounding the fortress. "I've received word that the Night Elf's Secret Mage Corps has returned to battle. I don't want my Adjutant to escape again."
Mannoroth hadn't forgotten the humiliation of being killed by "Illidan" and Broken Tooth Escape; he scratched his head, extremely embarrassed.
"We must lure them out and get the Fel Screecher into battle; the Night Elves ' air force is too weak."
With a piercing scream, the Fel Screecher, like dark clouds, swarmed towards the fortress of the night.
These Screecher carry fire bombs and will drop bombs as soon as they enter the airspace above the fortress, setting the dark fortress ablaze and turning it into a sea of Fel.
Fandral Staghelm was helpless in this situation and could only hope for General Feathermoon's Secret Mage Corps.
With a series of crackling sounds, countless lightning balls flew into the sky, quickly connecting to form a sea of Thunder that protected the fortress of the night. Fel Screecher that crashed into the lightning net would scream and fall to the ground.
"Do you see the location of the mage group?" Archimonde asked.
Mannoroth's small eyes widened as he pointed to a spot in the dense forest, saying, "I see it! It's in that forest, sir! I'll take men and find those Imp right away!"
Archimonde waved his hand and said, "No need, the Orcs are already prepared."