Stormwind Wizard God-Chapter 313: Broken

Over in the Horde, there are all kinds of equipment.

Stone war hammers, spears made of sharpened branches, armor made of animal skins tied around the body, and a makeshift patchwork of branches, with a large number of freshly-made catapults on top...

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

The trolls on both wings of the orcs still looked the same as they did thousands of years ago. Their spears were all made of sharp stone tips, which were quite dangerous to the almost unarmored rangers, but were completely useless to the heavily armored elven infantry and arcane constructs.

The initial nervousness of the elf soldiers was completely amused by the scene before them, and was followed by low laughter.

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

"The border rangers are also useless. They were beaten by such a guy and lost all their dignity. They sent out dozens of letters for help every day."

The soldiers' laughter drifted with the wind to the ears of the ranger troops stationed on the eastern temple defense line, and there was anger on the face of every elven ranger.

The four Windrunner sisters have different standing postures:

Alleria stood proudly in the wind like a pine tree, her face expressionless, but anyone could see the pain in her eyes.

Sylvanas folded her arms across her chest, leaning in the shadow of a pillar in the temple, her back to the battlefield, a chilling sneer on her lips.

Veresa, who should have been the most lively, sat on the steps of the temple with her hands on her knees, not saying a word.

On the contrary, Lirath, with a gloomy face, covered her forehead with her right hand and looked into the distance: "Sister, there are miscellaneous troops in front, and the elite led by the Blackrock Clan behind us. There seems to be a special fog-type spell behind us."

"Sure enough, Duke guessed it right again..." Alleria, the great hero of the Troll War, murmured absentmindedly. Soon, her emerald green eyes regained their brilliance. "As long as Duke is here, the high elves will not perish."

Then, she raised her voice and called out, "Halduron! Lor'themar!"

The two elven rangers immediately came quickly behind Alleria.

"Halduron Brightwing reports to you."

"Lor'themar Theron reports to you."

Alleria turned around and asked: "Is everything ready?"

The two ranger captains hesitated for a moment, then answered in unison, "We are ready."

"That's good." Alleria nodded. She had no idea that the person she had just ordered was two of the three great men of Silvermoon City who would become famous in the future...

Over there, both sides sounded the marching horns almost at the same time.

All the elf warriors performed the same action and put on their helmets.

The elves' helmets are very different in style from the common Arathor helmets of the Alliance.

Its decorative significance is far greater than its practical significance. Compared with the half-mask style of the Alliance helmet, the elf helmet is more like an exquisitely carved visor with intricate patterns and extremely fine dyeing. From a distance, almost the entire mountain and field are reflecting golden and red light.

Because kite-shaped shields were widely used, the soldiers' movements were also quite flexible.

However, when Orgrim saw this narrower shield on the command podium, the Warchief sneered.

Here, on a huge command platform held up by four five-meter-high, huge arcane constructs, the great Sunstrider royal family's legitimate heir, Kael'thas, displayed his dazzling appearance in front of the army.

Every wave of the hand and every move has unimaginable charm.

Gently pointing to the distance, Kael'thas shouted: "Covering fire!"

As the messenger's voice spread to the wizard team in the rear through a sophisticated magic communication system that humans could not imagine, on the hillside near the eastern temple, a continuous line of fire lit up the entire horizon and emitted a dazzling brilliance.

This is more than a thousand Adept Mages releasing fireballs at the same time!

The mage corps, which is equivalent to the total number of mages in several human kingdoms, is just a standard configuration for the high elves. In fact, the proportion of mages in the elven army is more than one-tenth.

With so many mages, the momentum created is extremely terrifying.

"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh--" Accompanied by continuous whistling sounds, countless fireballs flew over the heads of the elven infantry and landed on the orc skirmish line that was beginning to charge on the other side of the battlefield.

It was an instinctive premonition of impending 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 retreated. They continued to charge forward, roaring.

Ten seconds later, a sea of ​​red fire fell from the sky, covering the orcs' already somewhat messy and loose charge formation. More than 800 orc warriors were directly reduced to ashes, and twice that number of orcs turned into burning human torches, struggling and rolling in the flames.

It can be imagined that in a short while, they will turn into charred corpses.

Then it's harvest time.

The Elf infantryman who was advancing with his kite-shaped shield held in one hand thought so. No troop could maintain its morale after such a blow. This was what their instructors had said during their training.

Unfortunately, they encountered an exception.

Although most of their compatriots had been engulfed in flames, the orcs who were relatively intact still launched a fanatical charge selflessly.

"This is impossible!!" a female mage next to Kael'thas screamed.

Kael'thas narrowed his eyes and pretended to be calm, but others could sense a tremor in his voice: "Sharpshooter troops, kill!"

The charging orcs were already very few in number, and it would be a waste to launch a blanket attack. The remaining hundreds of orcs should be dealt with by infantry. The strong sense of crisis made Kael'thas order the finishing blow.

Unfortunately, his sharpshooter unit brought him shame.

The sharpshooters were the elite among the rangers. Due to political reasons, the rangers of the Windrunner family were not qualified to join the archery corps directly under the royal family. Their archery skills were indeed outstanding, but in fact, not many of them had experienced actual combat.

When encountering these orcs who still roared crazily and charged desperately even though a large number of their companions died, many "sharpshooters" shot at the orcs but missed their vital points due to various subjective or objective reasons.

Kael'thas saw with his own eyes that an orc had three arrows piercing his cheeks and looked like a porcupine. Even though he was covered in blood, he still charged forward to the formation of the elven infantry. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

"There are less than three hundred orcs left. It should be okay, right?" Kael'thas said to himself.

What happened next almost scared him to death.

The elves' infantry formation was actually broken by a mere three hundred orcs!