The military camp was established quickly, and with the full cooperation of the soldiers, the orc peons quickly created a camp where the orcs could turn encounters into defensive battles.

Nergo stood on the hillside near the military camp, looking at the large group of ogres not far away, and couldn't help but sneer in his heart, "Can such stragglers be called soldiers? Even the tribesmen of Gutsplitter are better than them. Same thing."

It seems that even though the ogres have an inland sea, worship the color purple, their ruler is called the head of state, and their clothing and architecture are similar to those of Rome, from the perspective of the soldiers, these crooked melons and jujubes may not be able to compete with the Roman legions.

Of course, it's also possible that what he was beating was the ogre's crooked melons and cracked dates.

Behind him, seven shamans lined up in a row and muttered words. These were all the shamans currently in Grobler Castle. They were all wearing animal skins and hanging war drums. From the appearance, they could all be said to be mysterious. A mysterious yet down-to-earth shaman.

This is Nergo's arrangement for them. Since the ogre's mages are powerful, they use shamans to suppress them, forcing the opposite mages to fight with Nergo's shamans.

Let’s see who is more skilled.

"Are you all ready?" Nergo asked them. They were different from Nergo. Nergo's mastery and affinity for the wind element were much higher than theirs. He could cast spells without preparation, but these shamans could not.

They nodded one by one, and Nergo beat the war drum on his waist rhythmically. They also followed suit and released bloodthirsty magic on the soldiers in the camp one by one.

In front of the tent set up in the military camp, Sylvanas felt the blessing of magic on her body. She looked at Nergo from the air, but found that he was also paying attention to her. She smiled, nodded to him and then turned around Leave.

Nergo withdrew his gaze and said, "Don't take action before you notice the location of the ogre magician."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"It's almost time..." He thought silently in his heart.

At this time, the ogre team had already seen the outline of the orc camp. Varoa pulled out the warhammer from his waist and shouted loudly: "Smash the orcs and bulldoze the camp!"

It's useless to talk to these untouchables so clearly. You just need to use a whip to tell them where to hit people. Anyway, their walnut-sized brains can only understand this.

Soldiers only need to know his orders and nothing else.

"Smash the orc!"

Those ogres couldn't wait for a long time. If they weren't afraid of Varoa's whipping, they would have rushed over impatiently and killed all the dwarf orcs.

In this era, whipping was a common military strategy to make soldiers fearful. Severe punishment could always make soldiers understand what to do.

Countless thunderous war cries came from the ogres' ranks. This sound made the orcs' hearts immediately sink. They knew that the ogres had launched a charge.

Although their formation was loose, even Nergo had to admit that the charging momentum of these monsters, which were comparable to humanoid tanks, was really scary. Even the thinnest one among them was much larger than an ordinary orc. More than one lap, and large size usually means strong strength. Facing the charge of these heavy-duty players, ordinary people's feet will be as heavy as lead and will not obey their orders.

Fortunately, after being trained by Nergo and Sylvanas, the orc soldiers formed a tight formation and held large shields to guard the entrance of the camp, even the saber-tooth tigers. .

Surrounded by their comrades, with a large shield in front of them and strict military law behind them, the soldiers of Grobler Castle were not afraid and just watched quietly as the ogres hit them.

Not to mention ordinary ogres, even Varoa is a little confused. Are they fighting orcs today? Shouldn't the orcs shout lok-tar, ogar, come over and rush, and the two strong men kill each other passionately?

What are these guys holding big shields? Could it be that the Blackstone Orcs have logged in from another place?

Something is wrong.

At this moment, the long horn sound sounded in the orc camp, as if in response to the roar of the ogre.

"Archers, prepare!" Sylvanas commanded the soldiers in the camp who were holding bows and arrows and equipped with javelins. Under the cover of the front row of infantry, they were all ready to shoot.

These archers are not many in number, only fifty. They are elites strictly trained by Sylvanas in accordance with the standards of the ranger troops of the Kingdom of Quel'Thalas. Compared with them, the orc archers are more suitable to be called For the hunter.

But they seem to call themselves hunters...

"Shoot!" The archers who heard the order quickly fired arrows at the dense group of ogres. Whoosh, whoosh, these dozens of arrows fell into the body of the ogres.

There is almost no need to aim. Their huge bodies make shooting moving targets as easy as fixed targets. In other words, the arrows seem to be sucked by their fat bodies, making it difficult to miss.

But this does not mean that these archers play a big role. They are few in number and the ogres have rough skin and thick flesh. Even if several arrows appear on an ogre's body at the same time, it will not affect him from continuing to charge angrily. These mindless and hateful monsters don't care about her archers, who only serve as a source of harassment.

Sylvanas shook her head. The power of these arrows and the number of archers made it impossible for them to become the main force in this battle. If they did not use javelins, they would be an atmosphere group.

But if the archer is a novice, what does it have to do with my ranger Sylvanas? She found a target of her own, which was a one-eyed ogre. He wore an iron helmet on his ugly head and armor with the characteristics of an ogre. This may mean that he is A regular soldier, not something like a slave.

He held his head high and looked confident, with two or three arrows stuck in his thick skin.

She took aim and shot the arrow neatly into his ugly one eye.

Like everyone else, he was rushing towards the orcs. Perhaps he was still dreaming of killing everyone in his mind, but a sudden arrow broke his fantasy. The most indispensable thing on the battlefield was dead people, dead people like him. .

# That arrow ruined my dream of being a general

Sylvanas' expression didn't change when she saw the soulless ogre's body lying on the ground. That should be the case, right?

As the distance got closer, Sylvanas ordered the soldiers to put on javelins. Under this order, the archers gave up their bows and arrows, which could only be used for harassment, and put on javelins that did more damage.

"Mage! Mage!" Varoa yelled. He wanted the mages to use arcane magic, evocation magic... Who cares? Any magic will do, but it will blast through the orcs' defenses!

The magicians of the ogres are naturally powerful. These spellcasters, who were dressed in silk and held staffs in their hands, gathered together, waving their staffs while mumbling words, and blasting beams of light towards the crowd of orcs.

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