Battle of Stromgarde

Stromgarde

"Fire!" Tatsel shouted, his voice immediately drowned out by the firing of a cannonball. The defenders of Stromgarde in Faelan Bay were completely unprepared. A hail of bullets rained down on the scrambling humans, their blood splattering against their red armor.

The raid went so smoothly that the coastal defenses had collapsed. Tatsel ordered, "All men, attack! Seize that beach and prepare to assault Stromgarde."

Heading north, across a vast, advancing battle line, Nathanos the Witherer was studying the situation at the front. He could see the black outline of Sor'Thalas Wall, long and riddled with cracks from the Lich King's invasion by the Scourge. The Forsaken's elite forces were now fighting here; they should have already breached this line.

"Judging by the time, Tatsel should have taken over Faelan Bay."

"That should be the case as expected," Belmont nodded in reply. "I'm just worried that we won't be able to rendezvous with her troops on time."

"There was a lapse in the plan. The enemy's resistance has exceeded our expectations." Nathanos stared at the leader of the Shadowblade. "Go and find out who the commander of the Stromgarde army on Sor'Thalas Wall is."

The city walls ahead were severely worn down. Suddenly, a heavy rain began to fall, soaking both sides. This further weakened human defenses, but also increased the difficulty of the enemy's attack. At least for the time being, the enemy's artillery and catapults would be largely ineffective.

Danas Thoradin lost his footing and tumbled down the steps like a barrel full of strong liquor. Exhaustion was testing him, forcing him to catch his breath on the water.

But the soldiers' hurried footsteps didn't give him more than a few seconds to rest. "Sir, there's an urgent military situation at the rear. An enemy force has occupied Faelan Bay and has begun attacking Stromgarde. His Majesty Galin wants you to return immediately to provide support."

Danas blinked, startled. He began to carefully consider the soldiers' reports. Judging from the battlefield situation, the invading Undead were no ordinary people. Their attack methods differed from the Scourge; they were more tactically astute and relied on highly advanced siege equipment. Moreover, while launching their fierce assault here, a naval force also launched a surprise attack from the rear. Danas sensed that he had met his match this time.

"Tell Galin that the Undead occupying Faelan Bay are just the navy, and it won't be easy for them to break through the gates of Stromgarde. It's raining heavily now, so the enemy's siege weapons are useless. Tell him to hold the line and I'll go back to support them as soon as I defeat the Undead forces here."

His words seemed to spur the soldier on, who left with a trusting look in his eyes. Thoradin stood up and stood on the city wall, letting the rain soak his angry face and his white-bearded jaw.

Who exactly is it? Who is the leader of this army of the Undead?

"Master, the investigation is complete. The enemy's leader is Danas Thoradin!"

Nathanos slammed his fist on the wooden table inside the tent, muttering, "No wonder! I forgot that Turalyon's lieutenant had already returned to Azeroth."

"It's raining heavily outside, Master. The cannons and catapults are no longer effective, and the siege engines and tanks are getting stuck in the mud. Should we suspend the attack?"

"That would put Tatsel in danger. Once the attack here stops, Danas will definitely return to Stromgarde, and our navy will be attacked from both sides."

Nathanos scratched his cheek with his knuckles, his eyes fixed on the map, deep in thought. Belmont sensed a mixture of reluctance and determination in him.

"Go and have everyone prepare to launch a full-scale attack as soon as the gates of Sor'Thalas Wall are opened."

"The gates of the Sor'Thalas Wall... will open?" Belmont looked at the Witherer in surprise.

"Get it done right now!" Nathanos snapped.

"Yes, Master. I'll go right away," Belmont said.

Once he was the only one left in the tent, the Witherer walked to the tent entrance, looked around for a while, and only continued after confirming that no one was there, "Come out, everyone!"

As his voice fell, five short figures appeared behind him, kneeling on one knee.

Nathanos slowly turned around, bowed his head slightly, and said to them, "Although using you at this time is quite different from the original plan, sooner or later you will face even greater challenges. I also want to see how your years of training have paid off. Answer me with your actions, and it won't be in vain that I pulled you out of the Lower City of Booty Bay back then. Go, open the gates of Stromgarde."

As if in a nightmare, Danas had no idea why the city gates would suddenly be opened. The soldiers were thrown into disarray, running around like headless flies, completely ignoring their commander's orders.

When Thoradin stormed into the city gate control room, he found all the soldiers on duty dead. Five had died in close combat, their throats slit with daggers. Three had their heads blown off by sniper rifles. The duty captain lay in a pool of blood, the look of terror on his face telling Danas that he hadn't even seen the killer's face.

Damn it, how did the enemy assassins manage to infiltrate the heavily guarded Sor'Thalas Wall? Danas had no time to think about these things; once the city gates fell, it would mean the end of the war for him.

"Guards! Guards!" Thoradin ran out and shouted frantically, but his cries had little effect in the rainy night. He could only hope that more people would hear him.

"All troops, hold the line! For Stromgarde!"

The Forsaken launched a fierce attack. Danas stood on the city wall, watching the soldiers crowd the center of the city gate, using their bodies to block the tide of death. A grappling hook gripped the top of the wall, and in an instant, a Forsaken leaped onto the wall. Danas raised his Greatsword and charged forward to kill him.

Some enemies charged to the top of the wall, but were cut down at the last moment. The soldiers' weapons were splattered with blood, which the rain washed away. The figures of the soldiers were indistinct in the rainy night. Screams occasionally echoed in the air, as if someone was being cleaved in two. Danas, a veteran of countless battles, knew that even the bravest defenders would begin to feel fear in such a situation. They had killed too many enemies, but each victory strengthened their will to survive, and under this will, they would begin to fear death, gradually losing their former ferocity.

"If this continues, everyone will die," Danas thought despondently. "Stromgarde will fall too!" With a heavy heart, the veteran shouted, "Retreat! Retreat!"