The Ghostlands, in the eastern forests, are home to Zul'Aman, the great troll city and former capital of the once-mighty Amani Empire, ruled by the formidable troll headhunter, Zul'jin.
Galen, magically disguised as Durotan, ignored this massive troll gathering, focusing instead on how to manipulate them and prevent any alliance between them and the orcs.
His primary objective, however, remained forcing the high elves to join the alliance; everything else was secondary.
Garona led the rogues, serving as Galen's vanguard. They traversed mountains and valleys northward, establishing teleportation anchors at the high elf kingdom's border to facilitate the arrival of Galen and the main force.
Recently, Garona had given birth to a son, a unique hybrid of draenei, orc, human, and titan heritage. Gandalf declared the infant, named Med'an at Galen's suggestion, to possess boundless potential due to his mixed lineage.
Galen placed Med'an in the town hall within Minas Tirith's core, in a room adjacent to Thrall's.
Galen also located the Foxton family in the Southshore refugee camp. Formerly servants of the Blackmoore family, a minor noble house in Stormwind, the husband was the estate secretary, his wife was a servant, and they had a six-year-old daughter, Taretha. Their younger son had perished during their flight north.
Galen, invoking his princely authority, persuaded Blackmoore to send the Foxton family to Minas Tirith to care for both Thrall and Med'an.
Despite being a half-orc, Garona's draenei and orc bloodlines made her exceptionally strong. She quickly recovered from childbirth and led her Root members north.
The high elves' magical barrier primarily isolated the Sunwell's energy, preventing arcane leakage. Infused with this energy, the barrier disrupted invaders' use of arcane magic, effectively silencing them.
After Galen and the main force teleported, he observed the magical barrier. Through the Heart of Origin, he was in constant contact with Gandalf and Medivh.
With their combined insight, the barrier's secrets gradually became clear.
"Their magic is impressive, but they've misapplied it," Medivh commented, observing through Galen's senses.
"The Sunwell is a marvel, but using runestones as the barrier's foundation was a mistake," Gandalf agreed. The two mages, former adversaries, now shared a deep respect and camaraderie.
"By removing a few key runestones, we can create openings in the shield," Galen feigned expertise, drawing on his past-life memories. The two renowned mages praised the prince's keen insight!
"Boss, elven patrols are approaching!" Garona reported from the shadows.
Many elves lived outside the barrier, in villages scattered near the border, and regularly patrolled the area. Silvermoon City's mages also periodically maintained and inspected the runestones.
Galen disconnected from Medivh and Gandalf. "Knock them unconscious, control them. I need time to extract the runestones!"
"No problem, boss!" Garona vanished into the shadows, and Galen began searching for the magical nodes. Runestones were typically embedded within these nodes to facilitate the flow of arcane energy.
While the high elves' magical barrier protected them from large-scale troll incursions, it also isolated their society.
Galen understood the dangers of isolationism better than most. Isolation bred stagnation; even the most advanced societies could fall behind.
And while the high elven councilors championed democracy and freedom, their system slowed down the kingdom's decision-making process.
"Found it!"
"Everyone, dig here!"
A rune-covered boulder appeared before Galen. Several wolf riders used a snare net to haul it up.
Galen dispelled the magic, and the glowing runestone dimmed. He placed it in his bag. Garona returned, signaling success.
Sensing the barrier's instability, Galen snapped his fingers. "Done! Let's move!"
The three-thousand-strong force brazenly entered the high elf kingdom.
The trolls from Witherbark were ecstatic. They had thought they were now Galen's vassals, part of the human faction, allied with the elves. The idea that they would invade high elf territory was thrilling beyond words.
After less than three kilometers, they encountered an elven village, defended by about four hundred elves.
Wow!
This is too easy!
The high elves are incredibly careless!
Aside from the magical barrier, they only have rangers patrolling. No other defenses?
No defensive outposts, no beacon towers... how can they be so complacent on their border?
"The barrier is impenetrable," they said. And you believed them?
"Fine, if you lack vigilance, I'll provide it!
"Order the wolf riders to attack! Destroy any resistance and capture the civilians!" Galen commanded.
"Woo! Woo! Woo!"
The wolf riders charged, their giant wolves surging forward, while the trolls remained behind.
This force consisted of captured warriors from the Witherbark, among the strongest, averaging around fourth level. Their leader, a seventh level headhunter who excelled in Galen's "brainwashing" sessions, was named Taz'dingo by Galen and commanded the three-thousand-troll assault team.
"Enemy attack!"
The village's few defenders raised the alarm!
The rangers rushed to the village entrance, nocking and firing their arrows.
Unfortunately, the village had only a few hundred inhabitants, with only fifty professional soldiers. The twenty ranger scouts had been wiped out, leaving thirty defenders – twenty rangers and ten low-rank warriors – hopelessly outnumbered by the wolf riders.
Ten minutes!
The battle was over. All thirty defenders were dead, and the remaining villagers cowered in their homes!
When the high elf kingdom was founded, it faced constant attacks from the Amani trolls. Outnumbered by the trolls, the elves, under their first Sun King, erected a magical barrier called "Banth'ele Nor" – Guardian of the Frontier – around the heart of Quel'Thalas.
The Sun King, a master of arcane magic, imbued the runestones with numerous safeguards. Yet, no one anticipated that Galen would temporarily nullify the runestones' energy and easily pocket them.
As the force advanced deeper into the high elf kingdom, Galen's troops captured more and more prisoners. However, as the elven settlements grew larger, their defenses strengthened, and troll commando units joined the assault.
Galen gave his troops free rein, ordering them to kill all who resisted, but to spare unarmed civilians.
They were already invading high elf territory under the banners of the Horde and the troll alliance. Restraint would only hinder their progress.
Galen and Aragorn possessed the "group resurrection" ability. After each attack on an elven stronghold, they gathered the corpses of their fallen soldiers and the slain elves, sending them to the Origin Land for Aragorn to resurrect.
The resurrected wolf riders and trolls returned to the battle, while the resurrected elf soldiers were imprisoned in dark mines, awaiting the final stage of the plan.
"Boss, according to the map we obtained from the elf rangers, the Sun Temple, a major elven stronghold, is only ten miles north!" Garona reported, stunning Galen.
He had been advancing according to Kael'thas's instructions. In two days, they had captured twelve villages, including many with Silvermoon Council members' estates and over six thousand captured high elves, many of whom were noble children.
He hadn't realized they had penetrated so deeply into the Ghostlands!
Galen studied the map.
The entire high elf territory was rich in forests, and the Ghostlands formed the southern part of Eversong Woods. East of the Moon Temple lay Tranquillien, the largest high elf town in the Ghostlands.
Tranquillien was a crucial southern pass, nestled against the mountains, making it easily defensible. Its elevated position provided excellent visibility, making it a key elven outpost.
It was the gateway between the outside world and Silvermoon City. According to Kael'thas, Tranquillien held over thirty thousand high elves and a major Farstrider military camp, where recruits trained to become rangers.
These were minor concerns. Galen was prepared to flee if necessary, focusing on attacking smaller strongholds and villages and ambushing larger ones.
His main concern was that the new Ranger-General, Sylvanas Windrunner, was stationed in Tranquillien.
The Queen herself. I'd love to meet her. The second daughter of the Windrunner family, Ranger-General of Quel'Thalas, and the Dark Lady of the Forsaken... this tall and beautiful elf was once the undisputed favorite of many players.
"Rest for now, then advance at full speed, bypassing the Moon Temple! We're heading straight for Golden Mist Village!"
Galen's ultimate goal was Fairbreeze Village, the high elf kingdom's largest port and its maritime lifeline. Many nobles had holdings there, and an attack would send shockwaves throughout the kingdom!
Galen estimated that his small force could only cause a minor stir. He couldn't even breach Tranquillien, let alone capture Fairbreeze Village, without his entire army.
He figured he'd need at least a legion of 180,000 to even have a chance of escaping the Ghostlands.
Tranquillien.
Ranger Camp.
A bloodied ranger scout staggered into the camp. His tattered leather armor was ripped, revealing deep, oozing wounds. He collapsed, and the camp guards rushed to his aid.
"Quickly, get me inside. I have vital information! The trolls have invaded, and there are green-skinned monsters riding giant wolves!"
The camp erupted in chaos. A female elf dressed as a priest quickly healed the wounded ranger. As golden light flashed, the scout relaxed. Overwhelmed by exhaustion, he fell asleep.
Garona's strike had been precise, injuring the scout enough to send him back with the news, but not enough to incapacitate him.
His message had arrived in time.
Ranger-General Sylvanas swiftly gathered her forces, obtaining detailed information from the scout.
"General, is this accurate?" Sylvanas's adjutant, asked, his voice low. The news was staggering. The trolls had invaded within fifty kilometers of Tranquillien. If the patrol hadn't been wiped out, they wouldn't have known until the enemy was at their gates.
What about the supposedly impenetrable magical barrier? Why hadn't the Sunspire and Deatholme outposts sent any warnings? Was this a full-scale troll invasion?
"You remain in Tranquillien and report our attack to Silvermoon City. I will lead a team to investigate!" Sylvanas ordered.
"General, let me go!"
"Silence, Noserma. This is an order!" Sylvanas acted decisively. She leaped onto her strider's saddle, as light as a feather, and with a sharp tug on the reins, led the assembled thousand-strong force forward.
The striders galloped, reaching the nearest village. The village was a scene of devastation, with shattered walls and dried blood, a far cry from its former vibrancy.
There were no corpses. Considering the village's population and the trolls' cannibalistic tendencies, the villagers had either fled or been taken by the troll army, yet no refugees had reached Tranquillien!
Looking at the blood splattered throughout the village and imagining the villagers' fierce resistance, Sylvanas seethed with anger. How had the trolls penetrated so deeply past the Great Barrier? What were the border defenses doing?
"General, the enemy left long ago. The village is destroyed, but there are no bodies!" Halduron Brightwing, the captain of the thousand-strong force and the eldest son of the Brightwing family, reported. He was known for capturing Zul'jin, the high warlord of Zul'Aman.
"What else did you find?" Sylvanas asked, her voice dangerously calm, causing Halduron to tense.
"We found many chaotic footprints outside the village, mostly troll tracks, along with the paw prints of large beasts, presumably giant wolves. They headed north!"
The villagers' disappearance troubled Sylvanas. Given the trolls' hatred for high elves, they usually left no survivors. Could it be...
Damn them, they're desecrating our dead!
The Ranger-General was furious. "Gather the team. We will pursue them, and these trolls will pay for their crimes!"
Sylvanas led the pursuit, spearheading their advance.
However, the further north they traveled, the heavier the Ranger-General's heart grew. By the time they reached the Moon Temple, her unease had deepened.
The villages surrounding the Moon Temple had suffered the same fate as those before: silent settlements, devoid of inhabitants. The only sign of the attackers was a scattering of a dozen troll corpses found outside one village.
Nosroma, left in Tranquillien, had already sent urgent signals to the Sun Sanctum and Deatholme, the border fortresses. Dragonhawk riders from Tranquillien had also located Sylvanas, bringing her the latest intelligence.
Sylvanas learned that over a dozen villages, stretching from the south to the Moon Temple, had been attacked. In every case, neither the bodies of her people nor those of the enemy remained at the battle sites!
Based on her personal investigation, the Ranger-General estimated the invading force to number around three thousand: three thousand raptor riders and five hundred dire wolf riders!
It defied logic. How could a force of that size carry away twice their number in bodies, even if they were corpses?
A sense of unease settled over the Farstrider command.
Despite this, the Moon Temple's mage tower continued to relay information to Silvermoon City.
The entire high elf kingdom mobilized. Large numbers of mage troops were dispatched from Silvermoon City, tasked with eliminating the invaders south of the Erandar River and preventing them from reaching the North Eversong Woods!
Galen's force indeed numbered three thousand five hundred: three thousand troll raptor riders, all bred by the trolls, and three hundred orcish wolf raiders, accompanied by two hundred robed wizards.
They had left their priests behind, fearing the lingering aura of Holy Light would betray their presence.
The troll corpses Sylvanas's forces found were those Galen had ordered executed.
Despite the power and effectiveness of the brainwashing, some trolls still succumbed to their baser instincts. Galen had Taz'dingo send them to the Loa.
Using the mechanical toys he had scattered along their route, Galen had already detected the pursuers and identified their leader: Sylvanas.
In his mind's eye, he saw her golden hair flowing down her back, shimmering in the sunlight. Her thigh-high leather boots accentuated her long, powerful legs, which he knew could easily crush a dire wolf. Her exquisite high elven leather armor highlighted her graceful figure.
(bro is in love)
Galen was momentarily distracted. Seventeen years as a prince, and I'm still single. My willpower is truly remarkable. No wonder I've achieved so much at such a young age. I am extraordinary!
Ever the braggart, Galen prepared to give Queen Sylvanas a rude awakening. He would set an ambush. She dared to pursue him with only a thousand soldiers? Did she truly believe him to be so easily defeated?
"Garona!"
"Here, boss!"
"Pass the word: we'll set a trap for our friends behind us! You take the wolf riders and raptors ahead, and leave a clear trail. Taz'dingo, your people will lie in wait. When the elves arrive, they'll pay for their ancestors' crimes!"
"Yes, sir!"
The wizards accompanying the army cast invisibility spells on the troll warriors. Within moments, the trolls vanished, hidden in the grass and trees, ready to strike.
The Farstrider pursuers from the Moon Temple had been reinforced by a hundred elven mages. Mage temples like the Moon Temple and the Sun Sanctum served as magical monitoring stations, established by the high elf kingdom at key points on the ley lines, each guarded by at least one magister. This was why Galen had bypassed the Moon Temple, not daring to confront it directly.
Sylvanas's forces soon reached the ambush site. The silent forest made the Ranger-General wary.
Night elves were the forest's darlings, and their distant cousins, the high elves, were no less attuned to the woods. The Farstrider rangers, in particular, were most comfortable fighting in such terrain.
But the forest trolls were even more at home here. After millennia of evolution, they had become more primitive, more adapted to the forest. Moss grew on their bodies, and they moved with unparalleled ease.
"Stay alert!" Sylvanas warned.
The silence was unsettling, broken only by the sound of the Farstriders' march. Sylvanas sensed the forest's unnatural quiet.
"Kill!"
"Wooo! Wooo! Wooo!"
Three hundred raiders on dire wolves charged the rangers.
This was a diversion. Raiders, as light cavalry, were vulnerable against most melee units. Their strength lay in their mobility and harassment tactics.
"Form a defensive line, using the trees for cover! Don't let them close!" Sylvanas ordered, remaining calm.
The Farstriders dismounted their swift hawks, quickly taking positions. Their green cloaks fluttered behind them as they drew their longbows, silently nocking arrows, awaiting the next command.
"Draw your bows!"
The Farstriders aimed.
Just as they were about to loose their arrows, Tazz'dingo and his trolls dropped from the trees, landing behind the elves. Tazz'dingo's battleaxe ended an elf's life in a swift throat cut.
The surrounding rangers reacted instantly. They lowered their longbows, drew their short blades, and prepared for close combat.
The Farstriders were not merely ranged fighters. Years of training had made them deadly in close quarters as well.
More trolls leaped from the trees and sprang from the undergrowth, ambushing the rangers. The Farstriders suffered heavy losses.
Sylvanas was also ambushed. Two trolls descended from the trees, their spears aimed at the Ranger-General's head. In a blur of motion, Sylvanas shot one troll through the throat, killing him instantly.
She parried the other troll's battleaxe with her scimitar, then cleanly decapitated him!
A perfect double kill!
Sylvanas then unleashed a furious assault, leaping and weaving through the forest, firing arrows with incredible speed. Each shot found its mark, felling another troll!
The Ranger-General's reputation was well-deserved!
Rangers are the elite wildland warriors of the high elves, possessing unparalleled skills. They navigate treacherous terrain with ease, vanish into the natural world to execute seemingly impossible assassinations, and excel in both ranged and close-quarters combat. Their long lifespans allow them to hone their abilities to perfection.
Humans, attempting to emulate the rangers, created the hunter class, a pale imitation at best. In the past thousand years, only a handful of humans had successfully transcended their class to become true rangers.
The legendary Sylvanas was an exceptional ranger. In a mere dozen breaths, she had felled twenty trolls, and crippled Tazz'dingo with a precise arrow.
Fortunately for Galen, Sylvanas had brought only a thousand soldiers. His forces, bolstered by their numbers, steadily pushed back the rangers' fierce resistance.
"Halduron! Lead a breakthrough!" Sylvanas commanded. Despite their melee prowess, the elves were physically outmatched by the trolls. Prolonged close combat was too costly. A strategic retreat, followed by kiting and counterattacks, offered a better chance of survival.
Halduron, unlike the stubborn characters in poorly written dramas, didn't hesitate. After repelling a troll, he drew a horn from his waist and sounded the retreat!
"Brothers, fall back! Follow me!"
The elite ranger captain leaped back, using the forest as his escape route.
As Halduron reached the second tree, his eyes narrowed. The surrounding darkness pulsed with unseen movement.
"Assassins!" he cried out in alarm!
He barely raised his scimitar in time to parry. A female half-orc, clad in tight leather armor that revealed much of her green skin, lunged from the shadows, her twin daggers a blur of deadly strikes.
Galen also charged, urging his dire wolf towards Sylvanas. As he closed the distance, he swung his enormous axe, a weapon the size of a door, at the Ranger-General.
Galen had no intention of showing mercy. In his guise as Durotan, fresh from sacking a dozen elven villages, he knew Sylvanas would be out for his blood. Failure here would be a humiliating defeat in front of Kael'thas.
Sylvanas leaped high, narrowly evading the axe's deadly arc. The weapon missed her, slamming into the tree behind her. A tree as wide as a man's embrace was cleaved in half, crashing to the ground in a cloud of dust.
Using the dust as cover, the Farstrider rangers retreated southward. Galen's attack had missed, inadvertently aiding the enemy's escape.
Miscalculation!
Galen preferred longswords, wielding them with deadly skill and style. But this massive, Durotan-inspired axe felt clumsy in his hands. If not for his transformed orc body, with arms strong enough to wrestle a bear, he would have discarded it long ago.
While Galen was distracted, Sylvanas drew her bow with a swift, backward motion, and an arrow struck his chest!
Fortunately, as Durotan, he wore no armor, but his own armor and Devotion Aura were active. His defenses proved surprisingly resilient, preventing serious injury from the hasty counterattack.
The Ranger-General was taken aback. This "brown monster" was incredibly tough. Though a hurried shot, her strength was considerable, yet the arrow had simply bounced off.
Undeterred, Sylvanas drew Windrunner's War Bow to its full extent, and fired another arrow at Galen.
"Armor-piercing arrow!"
Crafted from mithril by the high elf kingdom's finest artisans and enchanted by high-level magisters, these arrows were designed to pierce the thick hides of the largest and most heavily armored foes.
The arrow flew with deadly accuracy, aimed at Galen's heart like a bolt of lightning!
Clang!
Sensing the fatal threat, Galen swung his massive axe to block. The armor-piercing arrow pierced through the axe's head and embedded itself deeply in the metal!
Holy crap!
That's awesome!
An armor piercing round!
Fortunately, his axe was a masterwork. An ordinary weapon would have left him mortally wounded.
Sylvanas was even more stunned, her eyes widening in disbelief. Her most reliable attack had failed. Armor-piercing arrows were expensive and reserved for the kingdom's elite warriors.
The battle raged on. Sylvanas leaped back again, drawing her bow and firing. Arcane Shot!
Three arrows flew, targeting three vital points on Galen's body.
Galen swung his axe, deflecting all three projectiles. In that moment, he felt a strange kinship with a certain pyromaniac protagonist. The massive axe, like a certain heavy ruler, served as both offense and defense.
Urging his dire wolf forward, Galen closed the distance between himself and Sylvanas.
Excellent, close range!
"Head Splitter!"
Galen's axe descended towards the Banshee Queen's head. Sylvanas, having just landed from her leap, was still recovering from the impact. She had no choice but to parry with her Quel'Thalas scimitar!
As Sylvanas parried, Galen swiftly retracted his axe, flipped the blade, and aimed for her face. Faced with his rapid change of attack, Sylvanas leaned back, barely avoiding the blow.
Galen pressed his attack. Using his legs, he kicked the dire wolf's flank, launching himself into the air. The axe followed, aimed at Sylvanas once more.
Sylvanas rolled to the ground, allowing Galen's axe to crash into the earth, creating a large crater.
The fierce duel had left the area devastated. Several more trees fell, disrupting Garona's offensive and allowing Halduron to escape into the forest with a series of back leaps.
Garona glared at Galen. He awkwardly touched the wolf-head helmet on his head. This body and weapon severely hampered his fighting style. He only knew three basic axe moves, and he had been a bit too enthusiastic.
Seeing the Farstriders retreat, Sylvanas seized the opportunity. She leaped away from Galen, vanishing into the dense forest with incredible speed.
Galen, with a calm expression, looked at Garona with the expression one reserves for a useless teammate, and began to clean up the battlefield.
Sometimes Galen wondered if he lacked the so-called aura of a great leader. When others unleashed their kingly aura, capable ministers and brave generals would flock to them, bowing in submission. Why was it that all he got were people like Gandalf and Garona?
Gandalf still refused to listen to him, one hand holding a long staff, the other a great sword. He wanted him to cosplay.
And then there was Garona, who consistently refused to wear the Bloodfang armor, saying that orc attire better suited her wild beauty…
The only thing that made Galen happy was Khadgar, who was recuperating in Minas Tirith After being hit by the Aging Curse twice, and after Galen's repeated treatments with the waters of the Well of Life, his curse had been somewhat alleviated.
However, his hair and beard could not be restored, and remained white. The curse not only targeted the physical body, but also affected the soul.
Galen persuaded Khadgar to grow a long beard, tricking him into believing that older mages were more likely to be trusted by the public, and that a white-bearded mage was a symbol of knowledge and wisdom. At the same time, he encouraged him to practice swordsmanship, ostensibly to strengthen his body and adapt to his cursed physique.
Since the dual-wielding melee mage route didn't work with Gandalf, Galen decided to switch to a new target. Khadgar, who was the same age as him, was a good choice. He didn't have much experience, and more importantly, he was obedient and easy to persuade!
Khadgar said, "Isn't it just equipping another one-handed sword? As long as the Well of Life is supplied, you can give me a longbow, and I, Khadgar, dare to call myself a human ranger!"
The battle report from the ambush on Sylvanas was out. The Farstrider forces left behind more than three hundred corpses, while the troll raiding party lost more than a hundred, with two hundred wounded.
"Taz'dingo, is this the combat power of you trolls? You ambushed them with three times the number of elves, and this is what you achieved?" Galen unceremoniously expressed his great disappointment to Taz'dingo.
"Master, their ranger-general is too powerful. The difference in strength is too great. Our regeneration ability and numbers cannot compensate for our lack of strength. It is our incompetence!"
Taz'dingo was also very helpless. Among the three thousand trolls, he was the strongest, but he was still at least two or three ranks below Sylvanas or Halduron. If they kept their distance and had enough arrows and ammunition, it was hard to say how many of his troops would survive.
Galen also realized that this troll force was just something he had pulled together to make up numbers, with the aim of making the high elves mistakenly believe that the orcs and trolls had allied.
In fact, their strength was fine against ordinary human armies, but they did lack high-end combat power against the elite Farstrider rangers. If he and Garona had initially restrained Sylvanas and Halduron, Taz'dingo and his men would have been able to inflict more casualties on the ranger unit.
"Alright, let's put this matter aside. As long as you are loyal enough, I will grant you strength surpassing that of your former chieftain!"
Increasing Taz'dingo's strength was one aspect. Galen was already considering whether he could dig up the Dark Spear tribe from Stranglethorn Vale and lure them to Azeroth. Their tribe had many talented people.
The total number of high elf and troll deaths was only four or five hundred. This time, instead of sending them to Aragorn for resurrection, Galen personally resurrected them all.
As Galen's strength increased, he became more proficient in the use of Holy Light skills. The trolls not only came back to life, but also recovered from their injuries, while the elves only had their souls pulled back into their original bodies, barely healing their fatal wounds. The massive blood loss left them weak and even near death.
Galen wanted to create the illusion that they had only been seriously injured and captured.
Faced with Galen's ability to bring people back to life, the members of the troll raiding party, led by Taz'dingo, knelt down and worshiped him. Even the great god Rezan could not snatch so many dead creatures from the hands of Death in one go. What terrifying power this was!
Taz'dingo and the troll raiding party's loyalty instantly reached its peak. Later, they even founded a new religion, worshiping their new Loa, Lord Galen.
After the brief confrontation with Sylvanas, Galen decided not to go to Fairbreeze Village. The high elf kingdom already knew of the existence of their invading force, and their superiors would never allow him to continue attacking their important trading town to the north.
So now he had to hurry up and take down Goldmist Town, and then run away as quickly as possible. Knowing Sylvanas, that strong woman was definitely vengeful, and might be going back to get reinforcements right now.
Not long after crossing the river, they reached Goldmist Town. Thanks to the high elves' thousands of years of infrastructure construction, and with Root clearing the way, Galen and his men swaggered along the official road.
Goldmist Town was the largest town in the northwest of the Ghostlands. Galen chose this place because it was special. The town had a large number of low-ranking nobles and was a gathering place composed of many small families.
For example, Baron Sanguinar's hometown was here. As Kael'thas's advisor, he had been sent to Minas Tirith to serve as an allied officer. Galen had long ago figured out his background and knew the special nature of Goldmist Town.
At this moment, Goldmist Town was heavily guarded. Because of the existence of the Sunwell, most of the high elf nobles chose the noble and elegant profession of mage, so they built many mage towers and arcane laboratories in Goldmist Town. From the long-range contact points of the mage towers, they had already learned in advance that there were enemies wandering in the Ghostlands.
Looking at the magnificent buildings of Goldmist Town, and the shining spires of the mage towers, Galen had a headache. This defensive force was a bit strong. Even the highly mobile wolf riders would probably be riddled with holes before they could get close.
What should he do?
Galen began to rapidly use his smooth little brain.
Ding!
A flash of lightning flashed in his brain, and a prompt sound seemed to ring in his ears.
Galen seized this inspiration, and then went through it in his mind, completing a plan.
Galen called Garona over, and then selected dozens of high-level Root and troll raiders, and then paid for a wave of Guardian Medivh's spells.
Night fell, and the sky darkened.
A squad of rangers dressed as tattered Farstriders was fleeing in a sorry state, appearing in the open space between Goldmist Town and the forest.
They desperately fled towards Goldmist Town, while still firing arrows behind them, but it was unknown whether they had run out of strength, as their attacks were completely inaccurate.
Before long, one giant wolf after another sprang out of the forest, with burly green-skinned orcs sitting on their backs. They waved the warblades in their hands, and let out deafening roars, chasing the remnants in front!