The Qiraji retreated behind the gates of Ahn'Qiraj City. Watching the Qiraji circling above the city, the allied forces did not dare make any rash moves for the time being. Apart from the troops on guard duty, the entire army made camp where it stood. The wounded had their injuries bandaged and rested to recover, while the others sorted out their equipment and reorganized their defensive lines.
It had to be said that the priests and paladins Taelan Fordring had brought along to handle logistics had truly been a tremendous help to the allied forces. Their work treating the wounded had taken a great deal of pressure off the army.
Back in the allied army's meeting room, the old dwarf, Marshal Bruewall, set down his flask. "Looks like these Qiraji aren't anything special after all. Hahaha!"
As he spoke, the old dwarf downed another cup. Once the casualty reports from this battle came in, Bruewall found that every race's losses were acceptable, far below the anticipated level. This could not help making the old dwarf feel that the Qiraji were nothing special.
"Stop underestimating them. To us Night Elves, the War of the Shifting Sands a thousand years ago was as vivid as if it had happened before our very eyes. Back then, if the Qiraji hadn't grown arrogant enough to attack the Caverns of Time and bring the Dragonflights into the war, there's no telling what the continent would look like today. And even with the allied forces of Wyrmrest Temple joining the battle, we still had to sacrifice the offspring of three Dragon Aspects to seal Ahn'Qiraj. Underestimating the Qiraji is no different from courting death." Mar'alith, the hold's chief commander, was thoroughly displeased with the dwarf's attitude and warned him outright.
Indeed, a thousand years ago, the