Shalzaru was utterly dumbstruck at the sight.
Oh heavens, oh heavens, oh heavens! Was this horrific massacre really the work of Shandris Feathermoon alone?
She stood on her Hippogryph, proud and devout, her hands held in the most ordinary posture of prayer. Like any ordinary priestess, she looked utterly harmless.
But that was a full three thousand Hatecrest Naga! Every one of them was powerful, and at least half were mid-ranking Naga Warriors! Had they really been finished off so easily, so silently...?
Holy crap!
The woman I've spent all these years trying to defeat was actually this terrifying! Shalzaru thought. I always thought she was just an ordinary Sentinel General under Tyrande, completely overshadowed by her brilliance. Who could have imagined that Shandris Feathermoon, when truly enraged, was practically a walking killing machine!
An unshakable chill and bitter regret filled Shalzaru's heart.
He knew he might never again pursue his beloved Lady Vashj, never again bask in Queen Azshara's radiance, never again return to his homeland deep within the Maelstrom.
Yet as an outstanding, determined, even obsessive Naga Sea Witch, he had his own noble dignity.
At that moment, he completely forgot his earlier thoughts of fleeing.
At that moment, he was a great, glorious, fearless champion of the Naga race;
At that moment, he was the king of the Hatecrest Naga, a king who would never meekly await his death.
He would give everything he had to fight back, to struggle to his dying breath!
Even if he died-even if his death was already certain-he would kill a few Night Elf Sentinels first.
Kill one, and I break even. Kill two, and I come out ahead!
Shalzaru immediately prepared to cast a spell.
As a great High-ranking Naga Sea Witch, Shalzaru was proficient in all kinds of magic,