Warhammer: I, Bartor Farmer

Chapter 89 Under the Evil Moon
Warm and wet liquid flowed from the forehead, and gradually touched the pupil, making the whole right eye blurred, as if covered with a layer of red mist.

Whether it was the screams of the adventurers, the panting of the wolf cavalry, or the howling of the goblins, they all turned into vague buzzing when they entered the ears.

There was a rusty smell in the nostrils and mouth, and Roel wanted to stand up, but he found that he couldn't exert strength in his arms.

Roel's good luck seemed to run out today, his head hit the wooden wheel of the carriage, and the bearings gave him a bloody head...

Breathing became short of breath, and his body became even more weak. Only then did Roel raise his hand, his whole arm trembling as if it was not his, and he saw the dark green moon in the sky, smiling.

Just when his arm fell weakly, a rough palm suddenly grabbed his hand.

"What's the matter, farmer, can't you take it anymore?" Sir Nock slowly pulled him up, and Roel was not in the mood to bicker, but felt that he was top-heavy and leaning on something soft.

He touched it, it was quite thin, and then made a girl-like voice against the thing he was leaning on.

"Short... you... have you touched enough of this guy?"

Elena kindly supported him, that's all... She wished she could give him a knife and wipe his neck to give him pleasure.

In the end, Roel could only sit next to the overturned truck, but he still asked immediately. "How many are still alive?"

Elena replied. "No one died, but a third of the people had minor injuries, although they were still able to move, and you were probably the worst injured."

"Don't move." She took out a clean cloth and roughly wrapped it on Roel's head. Even though the cloth turned red instantly, it was much better than letting it dry and flowing.

Sir Noke added. "Farmer Roel, what wicked things have you done?"

Roel may have thought about it carefully because his head was not clear. "No..."

"By the way! Orc... how about the green skin?!"

The two didn't answer, but waited for him to wipe his forehead with his sleeve, and the tinnitus dissipated completely, and the sound that greeted his eardrums was not cheers, but the wails of vicious wolves.

Roel leaned against the overturned carriage tremblingly, sat down weakly, and gradually lost the strength to open his eyes.

"Ugh…"

The same goes for the others, even if it's just goblin cavalry, they can't deduct it, but the jazz from Quenaris shouted to the others.

"You bugs, how long have we Quenaris fought with greenskins?"

"We are still not defeated, ten years, one hundred years, one thousand years."

"Since the Baator people came to this land, we have an inexplicable grievance with the green skins!"

"Look at you worms, you are being pulled out by the green skins, I want to take some away!"

After some words, there was no so-called outrage, and the morale of the adventurers had completely collapsed.

The red pupils in the distance swayed in the dark night, the bright light of the torch was completely dispersed, and the piercing cold wind was accompanied by the green skin's shouts. Just when people completely lost hope, Roel touched the horn that he had been carrying around his waist. .

he suddenly shouted. "Array!" But even if he yelled, he was too weak at the moment, apart from Elena and Jazz, only less than four adventurers nearby heard it...

Roel could only shout to Jazz who was in a stance, ready to face the attack. "Three short beeps, if my hard work all morning is really useful."

Sir stroked his beard. "You mean... let them line up, let them become soldiers instead of cavalry?!"

Roel took a deep breath, trying to keep his head awake. "They will listen, they will, adventurers are a bunch of bastards who have to live no matter what."

"Same as you, ser."

"If you don't want to be a midnight snack for the green skins, hurry up and do it now!"

Sir Nork puffed and blew, and the fierce bright horn was like a hurricane blowing across the battlefield, disturbing the attack of the timid goblins, slowing their steps.

After three short beeps, the adventurers gathered quickly, using the posture that Roel commanded earlier, those with shields or good armor in front, those with hammers, axes and spears in the middle, and those with long-distance pulls were protected. thereafter.

At this moment, the Bretonnians gathered again, just like the story of the founding of Bretonnia, the Polderos, the Quenares, or the Aquitaines, the Briones, they all ignored the people around them. Stupid, arrogant.

Like a wall, standing on the wilderness, the greedy charge of the wolf cavalry was resisted by the front row, bang bang bang, cold iron and hot meat continued to clash, swords, spears, and arrows harvested the green skins.

Blood, screams, under the dark green moonlight, the situation instantly reversed, and the adventurers felt the power of the array beyond imagination.

It turns out that terrible things are so vulnerable in the face of unity!
When the last row of cavalry in front was decapitated by the blade, the goblins reined in their horses in fear, and were shot to death by the longbows of the hunters.

Roel's expression gradually relaxed as he watched the battle situation become clearer, while the green-skinned orc on the hill looked at this situation, and his expression became more twisted.

When the first kid couldn't help but pull out the machete, at this moment, the beasts on the hillside couldn't resist the urge to kill!
(End of this chapter)