MTL - Medieval Empire Soldier-Chapter 125 ·Rick Guard, Charge! (Please subscribe!)

   Chapter 125 Rick's guard, charge! (Please subscribe!)

  The Nords are to the north, one hundred and seventy miles from the city of Sesenmond.

A small farm full of northern characteristics. Large areas of mature and golden wheat seedlings were trampled. Only a wooden fan was left in the windmill mill of the farm. In the corral, only a few pigs and sheep were slaughtered, and blood was flowing. , the granary that stored life-saving food was also set on fire, and the fence built around it had turned into coke at this moment.

The screams were mixed with laughter and arrogance. The barbarian predators dragged the unfortunate people behind the horses' hooves with tethered ropes. The corpses of the Imperials hung everywhere near the farms, and groups of captives were executed by the barbarians. .

In the faint moonlight, Luther-Hus could conclude that there were no less than one hundred and fifty Norscans on the farm, apparently a makeshift camp for marauders, a burning granary, Extra striking in the dark night.

   "Save me, save me~" The cries of the peasant girl kept stinging the heart of Luther Huss, and the hearts of the Dites Harbor soldiers who fled to the farm.

  The main road did not dare to go, and the group of people who fled to the south only dared to take the small road.

  Some prisoners were caught and then executed, some prisoners were executed during resistance, and some prisoners were hanged on wooden frames with their hands and feet bound, waiting for their fate with the last shreds of life.

   Either way, they fell into the hands of the Yankees, and the end result was death.

"Lord Battle Priest, fight or not! We all listen to you!" A muddy imperial captain said in a deep voice beside Luther Hus. The Imperial soldiers also clenched their weapons, their faces filled with resentment against the Yankee barbarians, and the mortals stared at the battle priest, just waiting for his order.

Luther Hus turned his head and looked around, there were thirty or forty brave soldiers with firm eyes and seven or eight imperial knights, but in the mountain road behind the low slope, there were more than one hundred and sixty old, weak and sick, and their eyes were also different. Watching the battle priest, ordinary people face the predators alone, with no chance of winning. Even if the soldiers and knights are brave and fearless, they can at most hold off more than half of the barbarians. People can stop.

   The peasants' pitchforks and kitchen knives cannot deal with warriors who have experienced **** storms.

The wailing of the captured peasant girl echoed in the wilderness. Luther Huss frowned, and the hand holding the warhammer crackled. In the end, he put the warhammer behind him and fired a retreating attack on everyone. Gesture: "We can't save them."

  The battle priest chose to retreat.

".clear."

  The soldiers and knights looked silent, and crawled down the low **** again. The Yankee barbarians laughed like a mockery of their rejection.

The more than 100 Dites Harbor refugees at the bottom of the low **** have packed their bags again. In the center of the team, there is a lack of innocence in the eyes and pupils of the children. Countless **** lessons have made their minds mature quickly. Crying will attract monsters. and enemies.

  The brutal war has made generations of Nords know what death is from an early age.

After several days of desperate fleeing, the refugees had no idea where they had escaped. They habitually followed the guidance of the Lord Battle Priest and went all the way to the south. In the sparsely populated Nord Kingdom, most people lived their entire lives They will not leave their villages, and the places where they have lived for generations, leaving only an unknown future.

   "Ya Sen, the pastor has spoken, continue on your way, your family hurry up and pack up!" At the end of the refugee queue, a young man pulled his two younger sisters and whispered to his neighbors.

"Alright soon, alright soon." The young man named Yasen bent down with difficulty, grabbed a sharpened wooden spear, and turned to look at his old mother, who was packing up a basket of bottles and jars. Among them is a bottle of silver jug ​​from a noble family.

"Mom, these are all burdens! The grain sack you are carrying is heavy enough!" Yasen shouted angrily. He grabbed the basket that his mother picked up and threw it to the side. He picked up his mother without any reason, and ran after him. Get on the team.

"Ya Sen, do you know what you are doing?" The old mother quickly broke free of her son and lifted the basket. She also dreamed of leaving a little property, enough to start a new life after escaping from Nord, so that her son could marry a wife and buy a family business in the future. , This brave woman in the north has been stubborn all her life, and said nothing to throw away her only property: "These bottles and cans are the only valuable things in our family, even if you flee, you can't spoil things!"

"If you don't throw these away, we will die on the way to escape sooner or later!" Yasen stretched out his hand and tore off the basket again. He turned his head to look at the team that had not gone far, and pulled his old mother: "Mom, listen to me, Go! It's too late!"

   The stubborn old mother was about to grab the only silver pot, but the whole basket was overturned to the ground.

   "Hu ka ka ~" A large basket of clay bottles and jars were all smashed into pieces, and the crisp cracking sound could be clearly heard in the wasteland.

At the forefront of the refugee team, Luther Huss turned around abruptly and looked around. The imperial captain beside him instantly clenched his great sword. Shattered bottles.

   The crisp cracking sound alarmed the barbarians in the farm.

Outside, a few Yankees who were **** peasant daughters got up, and the barbarians subconsciously picked up the battle axes and machetes that were close at hand, put on black iron helmets and round shields, and roared wildly: "Who is there? ?!come out!!"

  The refugees behind the low slopes swallowed their saliva with difficulty. They had no time to deal with the troublemaker. The refugees knew that danger was coming.

Luther-Hus took a deep look at the young man named Yasen, gestured and ordered the refugees to speed up their escape, while preparing the soldiers to meet the enemy, the imperial captain on the side of the team buckled his kite helmet, he Licking his chapped lips, the giant sword shook a bunch of sword flowers.

"Despicable southerners! I smell the stench on your body!" The Yankee barbarians' voices got closer and closer, and the muffled footsteps became more and more dense. A low growl.

"Everyone, get out quickly! Quick! Quick!!" Luther Huss no longer restrained his breath, he roared and ordered the refugees to retreat, clenched the warhammer and rushed to the end of the team, several hunters and crossbowmen in the team pulled Full of longbows and crossbow strings, they stared nervously at the low slope, ready to shoot.

   "Ahhh! Run for your life!" It was difficult for more than 100 refugees to maintain order. Under the threat of death, their escape caused a great deal of chaos.

  When one runs first, all will run,

The refugees who have been fleeing for several days are on the verge of exhaustion both mentally and physically, especially the mother and son who are at the back. Yasen's old mother is carrying a heavy bag of food, her footsteps are unsteady, and she only took three or four steps. He fell to the ground panting, breathless.

   "Mom!" Yasen stopped subconsciously and rushed over quickly: "Get up, Mom! The barbarians are coming soon!"

   "No, no. Mom can't walk anymore, it's my fault that I've hurt everyone." The old mother shook her head, tears streaming down her old wrinkled face: "Child, run away, run away."

"Drink!" The barbarian's roar gradually approached, and the shrill and bloodthirsty shouts surrounded Yasen's ears, and a Yankee with an axe and a shield and dreadlocks sneered at him: "For the gods of darkness! "

  The young man didn't want to sit still, threw his bag, and clenched his wooden spear with trembling legs. He wanted to protect his loved ones, and shouted to strengthen himself: "Ah!!"

   Yasen rushed up resolutely.

How could a    peasant be a match for a barbarian warrior? The charge and thrust was only a face-to-face. The wooden spear in his hand was chopped by the battle axe. The barbarian easily knocked the young boy to the ground with his round shield. Unhappy old mother: "Your mother, right?"

   "Flee! Yasen." The old mother saw her child fall to the ground, crying with tears on her face: "Don't worry about me, child, run for your life!"

   "When I cut off her head, your eyes will be very interesting, southerners, haha~~" The Norsca Marauder grinned grimly, kicked the old mother to the ground with one foot, and raised the battle axe in his hand.

   "No! No! Mom!" The young man was desperate, he crawled helplessly towards his mother, his eyes were lost, his pupils dilated.

  Perhaps this is the fate of ordinary people, no matter how much they resist, they will eventually die.

There was a rapid collision of iron armor, and a heavy footstep approached quickly. The battle priest in half-body plate armor swung the warhammer. The fiery soul flame wrapped the warhammer in the priest's hand, and hit the barbarians with a heavy blow: "For my lord !!"

   "Bang!" One blow smashed it two or three meters away, the crisp sound of broken bones indicated the death of the barbarians, and the purifying fire became more and more violent.

   "Master Priest!"

  Under Yasen's excited eyes, Luther-Hus lifted up the old mother and shouted in a deep voice, "Take your mother and go! I'll stop."

   After a while, the imperial soldiers who followed the battle priest rushed up. One soldier helped Yasen to retreat south. The remaining swordsmen formed a shield wall and stared at the barbarians rushing down from the low slope.

   Several hunters and crossbowmen opened fire together, only shooting down one or two Norsca raiders, and the remaining barbarians still had a huge numerical advantage.

   The captain of the empire looked at the Norsca people who were running wildly in the night and screamed strangely, and spat out a mouthful of saliva: "We are destined to die here, Lord Hus!"

  The eleven spearmen leveled their spearheads behind the shield wall and pointed at the enemy. Six imperial knights on foot and one sea **** knight from the Ocean Church united under the command of the battle priest with swords and shields. The power of faith gave them courage.

  The battle priest remained silent, he took a deep breath, the soul flame attached to the warhammer in his hand became even more dazzling.

"If I survive this battle, can I apply for admission to the Church of Sigmar?" The imperial general tore off the "W"-shaped pendant symbolizing the **** of luck at the neckline and threw it on the ground. Then, he licked his chapped lips. : "Suddenly I feel that fighting in the name of Sigma is very cool, much more fun than the goddess of the lucky lady!"

Luther-Hus looked at the Norsca, and he whispered the first line of the opening title page of the Twelve Prayer: "When the sun sets, the earth is dark, the bonfire is lit, and the beer is full, then It's time to chant the sakya like the dwarves. The greatest sakya in the world is the sakya of Sigmar, the greatest warrior in the world. Now, listen and hope!"

   "I am the warhammer that guards the empire;

  I, the comet that purifies the world;

  I, the will of Sigmar to walk the world"

The cry of the barbarians and the roar of the direwolf became clearer and clearer, the swordsmen clenched their shields, the spearmen leveled their spear blades, and the devout prayer of the battle priest drew a flash of golden thunder. The magical "Armor of Justice" that can be mastered appeared in the wilderness of Nord without precedent in history.

   Shrouded in golden light, the swordsmen shouted loudly, just like Luther Huss and the Empire Captain, shouting: "For the Empire!"

   In the darkness of night, a wave of steel composed of three hundred knights rushed across the wasteland north of Sessenmonde.

  Rick Marshal Kurt Heilberg led the knights to rush fast. The pioneers tracked down a Norsca camp that night. In the burned farmhouse, the imprisoned compatriots of the empire were suffering.

Kurt Heilberg's kite-helmet fluttered with the flamboyant griffin feathers on both sides, and Marshal Rick raised the sword of torture that gave off a golden glow: "Hurry up, Emperor's Rick Guard! Nord people In danger, we cannot watch our fellow men die in front of us!"

   "Understood! My Marshal! We're already moving at full speed!" The Rick guards responded loudly to Marshal Rick of the Brave Crown Empire.

"very good!"

"Concentrate and stabilize the formation!" the captain of the empire shouted. He alone fought against five barbarian predators, his two-handed giant sword flew up and down, and chopped down several pieces of barbarian round shield, which did not fall at all from his posture. wind.

   He received double or even triple the high salary in the barracks in Dites Harbor, and enjoyed the double-storey housing and delicious food allotted by the earl, in order to play his due role in the war.

The spearmen in the back row of the swordsmen stabbed forward hard. The soldiers gritted their teeth and frowned. They aimed their spears at their hearts and faces, and stabbed them hard. Well-trained discipline was the magic weapon for victory. The imperial soldiers shrouded in magic armor, the armor protection is not weaker than the plate armor, and the power of faith is concentrated into the essence of magic to protect them.

  Luther-Hus was in the lead, chanting the scriptures he had known since his acolyte stage, swinging his warhammer into the wind, fighting off one intruder after another, his body splattered with the blood of the barbarians.

The disadvantage of the number of people cannot be easily made up. Three or four barbarians used a round shield to divide a knight into formation. The giant axes and machetes were chopped down one after another, and the iron cans were opened. As time passed, Luther Huss. Their subordinates had already lost a small half of the soldiers, and they were fighting and retreating, trying to delay the time as much as possible.

  The swift barbarian predator riders chased after the refugees. At the end of the wilderness, the sound of dense horse hooves sounded.

Under the dozens of torches, shining armor, high banners, such as the lance of the forest, and the golden griffin emblem symbolizing Rick, led by the white-bearded knight with a golden glow, appeared in the wilderness. On the other side, the light dispelled the darkness, and the light of hope poured into the hearts of the refugees.

   "Rick Guard! Charge!!"

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   Suppose the Norsca swung the battle axe. Wouldn't it be more pathetic?

   (end of this chapter)