Krosus led five thousand Legion demons toward the Moor Town mountain pass through the night.
Originally, Krosus had believed Gul'dan would launch a massive counteroffensive. Brimming with anticipation, he squeezed his hands as though he had already twisted Rowan's head off.
Unfortunately, Gul'dan still had his sights set on Lordaeron. Once again, Krosus had become a tool for appeasing the Legion soldiers' anger.
That doubled his fury. Seething, Krosus swore to lead these five thousand motley demons into the heart of the Agamand family's territory and crush Rowan's head beneath his foot himself.
At dawn, Krosus's vanguard entered Moor Town under cover of a medium-sized Void Warship.
Moor Town marked the boundary between Silverpine Forest and Tirisfal Glades, as well as the point where the plains began to rise.
Farther north lay rolling hills.
Moor Town stood on elevated mountain terrain. Scattered villages lay to its south, a military stronghold occupied its center, and the main urban district lay farther north.
Krosus had not looked at a map. Judging solely by his first impressions, Rowan's Kul Tiras troops must have stationed a large ambush here.
With terrain so obviously easy to attack and difficult to defend, how could that sly monkey Rowan abandon the advantage the landscape offered?
"My lord, I suggest we merely feint an attack rather than fight to the death. Victory is not our objective." Anetheron, a fear demon with a terrifyingly pale face, offered his advice to Krosus.
Krosus ground his teeth in hatred. Over the Legion's thousand-year Burning Crusade, he had followed Lord Archimonde in slaughtering more than a hundred worlds. Never once had he engaged in such deceitful, halfhearted pretense.
Granted, recklessly charging this perilous stronghold would exact a terrible price.
But Rowan had already gravely wounded Krosus twice. As the lord of the