The High Elves of Silvermoon City had no idea that their ruler had already fallen beneath the blades of the Scourge.
At that very moment, they were doing everything in their power to resist the undead army with courage.
As the first ghoul entered range, the elves immediately displayed their formidable archery. Arrows descended like a swarm of locusts, pouring down upon the charging undead army in a raging storm and inflicting tremendous casualties. Rangers and archers alike loosed their bows from both the city walls and the battle formations. Wave after wave of arrows blanketed the undead ranks, and in the blink of an eye, scores of undead and ghouls fell with arrows through their bodies.
The first wave of undead was wiped out beneath the arrowstorm before it could reach the elves' formation. Not a single undead creature managed to touch the shield wall formed by the elves.
Yet Baron Rivendare, commander of the undead, did not so much as blink at the sight. He coldly gave the order to attack once more.
This was where the undead held an advantage over the living. The dead were cold and emotionless; their armies had no such thing as morale. No matter what losses they suffered, as long as their commander gave the order, the remaining troops would obediently continue carrying it out—even if that order meant certain death.
Before his death, Rivendare had been the lord of Stratholme and one of the early pioneers of the Silver Hand. He had once fought side by side with the High Elves in the Second War. Naturally, he understood the power of elven archers.
In fact, his goal was to wear down their arrows and their stamina.
The Scourge had an endless supply of expendable fodder. After the first wave came the