Just being a dark elf in Warhammer

Issarion wiped the blood and sweat from his face, and looked around with a cold look. Although Aris had long disappeared, he had no time to think about the whereabouts of the Shadow King. He held the fang sword tightly in his hand, and his eyes fell on the relics of the two sea guards who had already died. He put the relics away properly.

The anger and pain in his heart intertwined and burned into the anger of revenge. He knew that only by going deep into the battlefield and struggling on the edge of life and death could he hone his true strength like Daquus. At this moment, he longed for killing and even more for release. His goal was clear, to find a relatively safe partner and to avenge his fallen companions.

The battlefield was in chaos, with wailing and roaring intertwined, but it did not prevent him from stepping firmly into the tide of chaos.

Not long after, Issarion found himself running into a Yankee warband. The Yankees who surrounded him grinned fiercely, and their battle axes were raised high, ready to throw them at him fiercely.

He held the tusk sword tightly, facing eight men, and he was ready for a fierce battle. However, just as the axe was about to be thrown, the Yankee's movements froze strangely. He saw a flash of surprise and confusion in one of the Yankees' eyes, and the other eye was pierced by an arrow, and then he fell heavily to the ground.

Then, a series of arrows followed, hitting the remaining Yankees accurately. The last enemy who tried to escape was hit in the knee by an arrow, and fell to the ground with a scream.

He stumbled towards the enemy, and the Yankee's crying voice rang in his ears. The language was unfamiliar, but the tone was obvious. His eyes did not waver at all. He raised the tusk sword and easily cut off the Yankee's arm, and then slit the enemy's throat mercilessly.

"Not bad, little guy."

A brisk, slightly playful voice came from behind, and Eltharion frowned instantly. He knew who the owner of the voice was. He instinctively turned around and saw the smiling face squatting on the ground, retrieving the arrows he had shot from the Yankee corpse.

"You are so leisurely."

He sighed, with mixed feelings. He didn't like Kerillian, but he couldn't deny that this Asrai was extremely skilled in archery. He shook off the blood on the blade with one hand and said coldly.

"Leisurely? That's it." Kerillian stood up and patted the snow on her hands nonchalantly.

"Are you alone?"

"No, darkness is my companion, I follow you everywhere!" Kerillian's masked face smiled, she announced, and spread her hands, as if embracing the darkness.

Eltharion rolled his eyes and shook his head speechlessly. This was why he didn't like Kerillian. But this didn't prevent him from teaming up with Kerillian. Just as he was inviting her, he heard a voice not far away.

There were neat footsteps in the distance, accompanied by the crisp sound of swords colliding and tragic wails. The voices were like a heavy war song, full of threats and oppression.

"It sounds like the main force of Druki. What are you going to do?" Kerillian said softly.

"Go and see!" Eltharion clenched the sword in his hand, his tone firm.

"Okay, little guy, but don't expect me to clean up your ass this time." Kerillian sneered and drew his sword.

This time, Eltharion ignored it and walked straight to the place where the sound came from. Soon, he recognized the existence of the red cloak and black guard armor in front of the queue. Unlike other cloaks, the lightly fluttering red cloak had no patterns or decorations, simple and plain, while the armor was a little weird, like the standard armor of the black guard, but a little different.

The good heritage told him that this should be the captain of the black guard, Kolan Blackhand. He saw Kolan holding a terrible halberd in his hand, and the jagged halberd was engraved with obscure runes.

"Since we occupied this land, we have stood firm! So, we must hold on, in the name of the Witch King, we must hold on!"

Kolan's words were clear and calm, and his words were carefully chosen, which was very contagious.

"This is a group of enemies who dared to challenge the wrath of Druki, a group of enemies who thought they didn't know what fear was. But please remember this, everyone remember my words, they will be stopped here, they will die here. When they set foot on the land of Naggaroth, each of them will die! If our victory requires life, I expect you to give it without hesitation!"

"Very exciting, but my evaluation is... not as good as Dakwus." Kerillian said in a low voice beside Isharion's ear.

Isharion was stunned for a moment, then nodded, showing a look of approval.

Perhaps it was because Dacus' speech two days ago was too shocking and the lingering sound was lingering in the ears, or perhaps it was because the discipline of the Duruchi army was extremely strict. Kolan's speech did not achieve the effect he needed, but it did not stop him from continuing. He did not try to compete with Dacus. This was just his habit, a few words before the battle.

"The beasts in the north have no thoughts, they have no great plans or strategies. They rushed towards us with blind savagery, using their flesh and blood to hit our traps. There is no glory in this battle. I ask you to slaughter them like pests."

Coran stopped and glanced at the queue again. Soon, he noticed something. He turned his head and glanced at Kerilian and Eltharion standing in the distance. He knew that these two were friends of the Witch King's Hand and guests of the Witch King. He did not say Nothing, nothing was done, but they continued to make the final mobilization.

"No more, no less, when we remove this filth from our land, it will be your greatest honor if you are still alive."

The moment he finished speaking, his speech ignited everyone's fighting spirit.

"Fight for the Witch King!"

It started as a low whisper, then turned into a chorus of shouts, and finally converged into a deafening vent of fighting spirit.

"Push forward!"

"Little guy, don't block the road. When they move, it doesn't matter who you are." After seeing the Black Guard move, Carillian took Eltharion's arm and disappeared into the darkness.

The battle began and the Black Guard advanced.

Elsarion, who was on the edge, once again achieved victory. In front of him, a Yankee wearing animal skins fell. Judging from his hairstyle, he should be a woman? But this did not prevent him from finishing the attack. When the fang sword fell, blood poured out of the Yankee's mouth like a fountain. He took a step back to prevent the blood from contaminating his armor. He stood there quietly, admiring his successful kill.

But soon, this calm was broken again.

"Look at the sky, there is something, over there!" Kerilian, who had also completed the kill, pressed her back to Eltharion's back and whispered.

An elegant figure appeared in mid-air. She was wearing crimson armor, with distinct hooves and feet, and curved horns hovering above her head. The bat wings behind her are covered with scars, she holds a serrated spear in her hand, and an evil smile appears on the shield. That scorching gaze swept across the ground, provoking everyone who dared to look directly at her.

Looking at this figure, Eltharion showed an incredible expression, raised his beautiful and cruel face, and let out a sharp war cry in a language that he could not understand at all. The demon's wings spread back, letting the figure Flying in mid-air. He had the illusion that this scene would be forever etched in his mind until the end of his life.

"Bloody" Valkia is here.

"These creatures are not worthy of you, my love."

The evil face on the shield, Rophix said, his tone full of ridicule.

Valkia had slain many of the servants of the rival gods, and one of these champions was Rophix, a demon prince of Slaanesh with unimaginable evil qualities. He was moved by the Blood Queen's cold beauty, and boldly teased Valkia more suitable to be a slave girl than a queen.

Valkia was naturally furious. She raised the magic spear Slop and started a fierce battle with Rophix that lasted for several days. In the end she won, and before beheading Rophix, she proudly declared to the demon that Rophix would be the only slave she would ever see.

Now, the relationship has become eccentric and relatively "harmonious", with Valkia living for her supreme lord, offering blood and skulls as tribute, and Rophix being one of her longest-standing companions, No one knows Valkia better than Roffex.

"Why waste your time on these kids instead of getting into the real fight?"

"In your eyes, nothing in the world is worthy of me, Rophix, at least in my opinion." Valkia responded casually, with a hint of distraction in her tone.

"Well..." Luofix smacked his lips.

"Remember, Rophix, my lord doesn't care where the blood comes from, He only cares about whether the blood flows. I promise you, this place will burn for Him, this place will turn into ashes and become a bloody monument. . And next, we will burn another one, and the next one." She flew at a steady speed, and after looking at the ground for a moment, she turned her attention back to the demon on the shield. She shrugged slightly, showing an indifferent expression.

"Too...boring!" Even with only an invisible head, Rophix was still able to express his self-righteous attitude in an almost elegant way.

Valkia sneered and ignored Luofix's words. When the Yankees on the ground heard the flapping of her wings, they all raised their heads and screamed their eternal loyalty to her and her bloody cause.

She looked down at the battlefield, hearing and witnessing the exhilarating scenes of carnage, and the beating of her wings became more violent.

The ground was filled with loud killing cries, and the chaotic and disorderly battle affected every inch of space. Countless elves, humans, wild beasts and giant beasts fought madly, and rivers of blood flowed.

The array of black-armored Druchi warriors was where the battle was most intense. Their halberds were swung smoothly, slaughtering the Yankees and Beastmen with precise movements. The smoothness of their movements and the thickness of the halberds themselves formed a perfect combination. A stark contrast.

Valkia soared in the air, overlooking everything, and felt briefly satisfied. So much carnage was a joy to watch and her pride was swelling that it was time to show up in person.

Her eyes were fixed on one of them, Druch. This warrior was holding an exquisite halberd, and his posture was like a battle-hardened veteran. The shabby scarlet cloak fluttered behind his back, and the blade of his sword flashed with the cold light of death. This warrior is like a whirlwind of killing, harvesting lives without stopping, and at the same time wandering among his own warriors, he has never accidentally injured anyone.

She acknowledged, even admired, the warrior. More importantly, she found her prey.

She swooped down from the sky like a comet, tearing the air with a shrill scream of death. She landed heavily on the ground, and the powerful shock wave caused the snow to churn. Drucci and the Yankees avoided it and retreated to safety.

She stood up straight, cold, arrogant and noble, her eyes scanning everything in front of her with contempt. Her magic spear pierced a black guard, and when she shook her wrist calmly and shook the trembling corpse away, she turned her attention to her prey, the Druchi champion.

She allowed herself to take a moment to admire the grace and skill displayed by the Druch champion. Soon, the champion's dazzling dance stopped abruptly and he looked at her. Then, the champion slowly placed his halberd in front of him and assumed a fighting stance.

The twisted faces in Valkia's armor twitched and twisted as she moved, each step imbued with the majesty of a predator. The gaps in her armor stretched like exposed tendons, and as she folded her wings behind her, she tilted her head slightly, baring her fangs and mimicking a seductive smile. Her eyes swept over the elves' muscle lines and blood-spiked armor, and the thirst for killing surged in her body.

This was her most exciting feeling, and it always surfaced just before she was about to hunt down a skeleton worthy of the Blood God's throne. And such a skeleton is undoubtedly her gift to the Blood God.

"Come on, let's dance together!"

The error-free version is being read! 6=9+Book_Bar debuts this novel.

The two warriors' eyes met and they closed the distance, the reverberation of the clash of steel exploding between them.

——

"Adjust to the right!"

Standing on the dragon's head, Darkus narrowed his eyes slightly, looked down at the earth from high altitude, and carefully observed the situation below. After a brief reflection, he decisively issued an order.

"As you command!"

Ashdalon roared low, and his huge body immediately deflected slightly, his wings spread out, covering the land below like a sky-covering shadow.

It's just that it's all in the dark now, and it's far away from the battlefield, so you can't see anything below.

"Off, to the left."

Soon, Darkus frowned slightly and noticed that the adjustment was slightly off. He first adjusted his position, then lay down, and his outstretched hand appeared in Ashdalon's field of vision, guiding and adjusting.

Ashdalon adjusted his direction steadily, his movements light but with the unique power of a giant dragon, and the air stirred up tremors due to the movement of its wings.

"That's it! Start diving!"

Darkus, who climbed up, looked at the perfectly aligned attack path with bright eyes. A sneer appeared on the corner of his mouth and gave the final order. Then he took a deep breath and blew the horn in his hand.

Ashdalon flapped his wings suddenly, and the roar of the air being torn was thunderous. The huge dragon body dived straight towards the ground at an astonishing speed, like a burning meteor, sweeping down with a destructive momentum.

This time, Darkus' old friend Splinterwen did not participate in the battle, including the red dragons who participated in the raid two days ago. It was not because they were injured or anything else, but because everyone had money. The principle of making money together.

The red dragons are paid gold for their attendance, and it is impossible to let some beings take care of everything. This is not only a reflection of weighing interests, but also a kind of potential tacit understanding and order. They eat meat together and drink soup together.

Fully illustrates the importance of good leadership and rule enforcement.

Those who participated in this attack were the "Majestic" Scurex, Ashdalon, Caleder, Kaminus, Drake, Agatagu, and the Akregon brothers.

Six red dragons of different sizes were arranged in a double vertical formation, with three in front and three in the back. The mission is to block the continuous attack of the chaos wave and provide the maneuverability to make dumplings to relieve the pressure.

Ashdalon is like a mountain falling from the sky, swooping down with an irresistible momentum. His huge and ferocious figure enveloped the entire battlefield, as if the night itself was swallowed by his pressure. His scales shone with a dark red metallic sheen under the moonlight, and every time he flapped his wings, a strong wind would rise, making the smoke and the smell of blood on the ground even stronger.

The flames of destruction are coming!

When he took a deep breath, his chest bulged high, like a dormant volcano being awakened. Immediately, a thundering roar cut through the din of the battlefield, and he opened his abyss-like mouth and breathed out blazing dragon breath. The flames poured down with devastating force, like a hot red torrent, suddenly hitting the center of the chaotic wave.

The blazing flames instantly engulfed the warband on the ground, their furs and cloaks ignited the moment the dragon's breath touched them, and the flames swallowed up their weapons, shields, and their poor bodies. The metal armor melted rapidly in the heat, making a harsh crackling sound, and the smell of scorched and burnt flesh filled the air.

Some Yankees who tried to escape fled in fear, but the flames penetrated all the way and turned their hopes into nothing. The huge hound howled in pain, and its flesh and blood exploded in the flames, while the huge ogres roared and fell down as the flames swept through, turning into silent scorched earth.

However, Ashdalon's attack was only the prelude.

Soon, the symphony of destruction woven by the red dragons was played under the command of Darkus.

Kaledale's powerful wings flapped, creating a raging wind that blew the enemy's cloaks and flags on the ground into a mess. Her huge mouth showed a strange and eerie cyan color, dancing like a ghost's dance steps in the dark night. Immediately afterwards, she suddenly folded her wings and dived straight down, spitting out the strange green flames when she was about to approach the ground.

The blue flames poured down like a waterfall, cutting off the chaotic wave in half. Wherever the flames reached, the air seemed to be twisted. The enemies raised their huge shields desperately to resist, but found that the flames penetrated the steel and invaded their bodies. The black and red armor that they were proud of melted quickly under the erosion of the blue flames, and the flesh and metal combined to form a twisted charred shape. The screams of the northerners came one after another, trying to escape, but they could not break free from the flames that devoured everything.

Calder, who began to fly in a straight line, began to spray mode. Her head kept turning, sometimes spraying to the left, sometimes spraying to the right, filling the gaps that her lover and Agatag and Acregon had not attacked.

On the ground, the beastmen struggled and fell down in the shadows, and their huge bodies gradually disappeared in the engulfment of the flames, and finally turned into ashes. Some of the more elite northerners tried to fight back or had a brain attack. Lacking any means of attack, they actually stopped where they were and formed a tight shield formation. The red dragon's blue flames were like spiritual spears, piercing the formation accurately and turning them into a blazing sea of ​​fire.

The trolls with weak fire DEBUFF were completely destroyed. Their huge bodies tried to fight back clumsily, but the blue flames penetrated their rough skin and evaporated their blood instantly. They let out low roars and wails, waving huge weapons, trying to repel the killing gods in the sky, but in the end they could only be twisted into charred corpses under the baptism of flames, scattered on the snow.

As the red dragons swooped down one after another, the hot flames kept gushing out like angry dragons out of the sea. Several dragon breaths attacked the Chaos Army formation one after another, and the fire pillars drew dazzling arcs in the night sky, cutting the darkness into bright daylight. In the light of the fire, the figures of the Chaos Warriors were looming, but more of them were their twisted bodies in the flames and endless screams. These sounds pierced the long night, like desperate wails, and also like the death knell of fate.

"Brother, you smell so good, ugh..."

Darkius' nose twitched as he sniffed the meaty aroma in the air. A complex expression emerged on his face, which seemed to be an instinctive reaction to the barbecue, and also like he was helpless about the absurdity of the scene in front of him. After a moment, he couldn't help vomiting, and then he was infected by an inexplicable emotion and laughed. The laughter was full of frenzy, which seemed particularly abrupt on the battlefield where wailings were coming one after another.

He did not attack. In his opinion, this was purely unnecessary. The dragon breath of the red dragons was like a 150 howitzer washing the ground, and his attack method was more like shooting with a handheld grenade rifle. His task at this moment was not to join the bloody massacre, but to stand at the strategic high point, calmly command and adjust, decide the timing and method of attack, and ensure that he could escape smoothly before the spellcasting system in Gorond City could react.

He took a deep breath and raised the horn to his lips. Three tight notes rushed out of the horn, resounding through the sky, penetrating the flames and smoke, and conveying clear instructions.

Hearing the sound of the horn, Ashdaron looked up to the sky and roared deafeningly in response to the order. His voice was like thunder, echoing throughout the battlefield, full of power and murderous breath. Following closely, the other red dragons roared in response, the voices were high and low, and converged into a sad and beautiful movement belonging to the sky and fire.

Then, the red dragons spread their wings and quickly dispersed in neat formations. They were like predatory birds of prey, turning the battlefield into their own hunting grounds. In their independent combat areas, their attacks were more swift and accurate, flames fell from the sky, destroying everything, and the snow turned into boiling mud under the high temperature.

Dacus stood there, watching all this calmly. In his eyes, the battlefield was not a chaotic killing, but a carefully designed chess game, and he was the chess player who controlled the chess pieces.

After completing the adjustment, Caminus launched another devastating offensive. He chose the mammoths as his target. The appearance of these behemoths should have brought an overwhelming advantage to the Chaos Tide, but in front of him, these behemoths seemed extremely fragile.

He rolled in the air like a red lightning, and then swooped down. His huge figure passed over the head of the mammoth, and then he took a deep breath and spewed out a blazing flame, which covered the whole body of the mammoth like a huge wave.

The hair of these behemoths instantly ignited, and the flames illuminated the entire battlefield red. The scorching temperature quickly disintegrated their thick skin, and the tough muscles and bones also turned to ashes in the flames. They let out a desperate roar, and their huge bodies began to shake, lose control, and finally collapsed.

The drummers and other things on them were set on fire, screaming and falling from the sky, some were smashed into pulp, and some were smashed into the chaos wave. The fallen mammoths smashed into the chaos array, and the huge shock wave made the Yankees flee in all directions.

The offensive of the red dragons plunged the chaos wave into unprecedented chaos, and the brilliance of the flames completely tore the night sky apart. The blazing light made those who didn't know what was happening think that it was dawn.

On the ground, one after another of the enemy arrays were engulfed by flames. The screams of the Yankees and the roars of the beasts mixed together, forming a symphony of destruction on the battlefield. (End of this chapter)