Chapter 380: The High Elf's Sorrow (Part 2)

On the other side of the tribe, there are all kinds of equipment.

Stone warhammers, spears made of sharpened branches, animal skins tied to the body as armor, improvised with branches, and a large number of freshly baked catapults with uncut branches and leaves...

At first glance, he felt that his opponent was a barbaric tribe with no civilization at all.

And the trolls on the two wings of the orcs are still the same as they were thousands of years ago. The spears are all sharp stone spear points, which are quite dangerous for rangers with almost no armor, but completely useless for heavily armored elf infantry and arcane constructs.

The initial nervousness of the elf soldiers was completely amused by the scene in front of them, followed by low-pitched laughter.

"I thought it was some amazing intelligent race that could break through our rune stone magic defense..."

"The ranger team on the border is also trash. They were beaten by such a guy so that they lost all their dignity and sent dozens of distress letters a day."

The laughter of the soldiers drifted with the wind to the ears of the ranger troops stationed at the eastern temple defense line, and every elf ranger had anger on their faces.

The four Windrunner sisters stand in different poses:

Alleria stood proudly facing the wind with a firm posture, her face was expressionless, but anyone could see the pain in her eyes.

Cirvanas crossed his arms, leaning against the shadow of a pillar in the temple, with his back facing the battlefield, a piercing sneer appeared on the corner of his mouth.

Veresa, who was supposed to be the liveliest, sat on the steps of the temple with her hands folded on her knees, without saying a word.

On the contrary, Lilas, whose face was as heavy as water, used her right hand to cover her forehead, and made a gesture of looking into the distance: "Elder sister, there are miscellaneous cards in front, and the elite headed by the Blackstone clan behind. There seems to be a special fog-type spell behind."

"Sure enough, Duke guessed right again..." Alleria, the great hero of the troll war, muttered to herself as if she was absent-minded. Soon, her emerald green eyes regained their spirits: "As long as Duke If it exists, the high elves will not perish."

Then she raised her voice, calling, "Halduron! Lor'themar!"

The two elf rangers quickly walked behind Alleria.

"Halduron Brightwing reports to you."

"Lor'themar Theron reports to you."

Alleria turned back: "Is everything ready?"

The two ranger captains both hesitated for a while, and after a brief moment of stupefaction, Qiqi replied: "Ready."

"That's good." Alleria nodded, she didn't realize at all that what she just ordered was the second of the three giants of Silvermoon City who became famous in later generations...

Over there, both sides sounded the marching horn almost simultaneously.

All elf warriors did the same thing, putting on their helmets.

Elven helmets differ greatly from the Arathor-style helmets common to the Alliance.

Its decorative significance is far greater than its actual combat significance. Compared with the half-shield style of the alliance helmet, the elf helmet is more like an exquisitely carved visor, with complicated patterns and extremely fine dyeing on it, which can be seen from a distance. , almost all the mountains and plains are reflecting golden and red rays of light.

Because of the widespread use of kite-shaped shields, the soldiers' movements are also quite flexible.

However, after Orgrim saw this relatively narrow shield on the podium, the chief sneered.

Here, on a huge podium held up by four huge five-meter-high arcane constructs, Kael'thas, the great orthodox heir to the Sunstrider royal family, showed his dazzling appearance in front of the army.

With a wave of hand and a shot of foot, there is an unimaginable charm.

Gently pointing to the distance, Kael'thas shouted: "Cover shot!"

As the voice of the messenger spread throughout the mage team in the rear through a mature magic communication system unimaginable by humans. On the hillside close to the eastern temple, a continuous line of fire that lit up the entire horizon shone with dazzling brilliance.

This is more than a thousand earth mages releasing fireball at the same time!

The mage group, which is already equivalent to the sum of the total number of mage group mages in several human kingdoms, is only a standard configuration for the high elves. In fact, in the elf army, the proportion of mages exceeds one-tenth.

With so many mages, the condensed momentum is incomparably terrifying.

"Hurrah--" With the continuous whistling sound, countless fireballs passed over the heads of the elf infantry and came to the line of orc skirmishers who were starting to charge on the other side of the battlefield.

It was an instinctive premonition of imminent disaster, and every orc warrior who was about to be hit felt his scalp tingling.

Not a single orc panicked, and not a single orc backed away. They were still roaring and charging.

Ten seconds later, a crimson sea of ​​flames descended from the sky, covering the already somewhat messy and loose charging array of the orcs. More than 800 orc warriors were directly wiped out, and twice that number of orcs turned into burning human-shaped torches, struggling and rolling in the flames.

It is conceivable that in a short while, they will turn into charred corpses.

Then it's harvest time.

The elf infantry who advanced with a kite-shaped shield in one hand thought so. No army could have maintained morale under such a blow. That's what the instructors said when they were training.

Unfortunately, they encountered exceptions.

Although most of the compatriots have been swallowed by the flames, the orcs who are relatively healthy still launched a frenzied charge with selflessness.

"This is impossible!!" A female mage beside Kael'thas exclaimed.

Kael'thas narrowed his eyes. He pretended to be calm, but others felt a tremor in his voice: "The sharpshooter troops hit!"

The charging orcs are already very scattered, and it would be a waste to carry out covering strikes. It was the right way to hand over the remaining hundreds of orcs to the infantry. A strong sense of crisis made Kael'thas order to make up the knife.

Unfortunately, his sharpshooter unit disgraced him.

Marksmen are elite rangers, and because of political reasons, rangers from the Windrunner family are not eligible to join this kind of shooter unit directly under the royal family. Their shooting skills are indeed outstanding, but in fact, not many of them have experienced actual combat.

When encountering these orcs, even if a large number of their companions died, they still roared wildly and charged desperately. Due to various subjective or objective reasons, many "sharp marksmen" shot the orcs, but they missed the point.

Kael'thas saw with his own eyes that three arrows pierced one cheek, and the whole person was already a porcupine-like orc. Even though he was covered in blood, he still killed the elf infantry formation.

"There are less than three hundred orcs left, so it shouldn't be a problem?" Kael'thas said to himself.

What happened next almost didn't scare his heart away.

The infantry array of the elves was broken by a mere three hundred orcs!