My Players Are So Fierce

1138: 385.

Death Town in the Polluted Swamp_2

1138: 385.

Death Town in the Polluted Swamp_2

“That thing is a Spiritual Energy item, I’m guessing it won’t be able to fool the keen Perception of the Jackal Warlocks.”

“And if there’s anything Hog learned from the downfall of Kenbort, it’s that one must be extremely cautious in matters of life and death.”

In Sir Morphy’s words, this isn’t being a coward!

It’s just being responsible for the one life one has, only fools would gamble with their lives when it’s on the line.

During the agonizing wait, Hog managed to memorize the patrol routes of several Skeleton Armies in front of the town, their unique structure allowed them to move effortlessly through the swamp, and the size of each patrol team, up to fifty men, was enough to face any form of sudden attack.

There were also a considerable number of “Necromancers” in charge of command, and Hog discovered that those commanding the Skeleton Armies were tall “Underworld Knights” dressed in black Heavy Armor and riding Skeleton War Horses.

Just from the visible parts alone one could see the strength of the defenses of this little swamp town, and Hog was sure that the Jackal Warlocks must have set up some tricks he couldn’t see.

These guys had practically established a “covert kingdom” in the swamp, they could control corpses, and they were stationed in the Polluted Swamp, which had seen countless battles in the past, meaning they had an endless, never-complaining perfect workforce at their disposal.

“It’s going to be tough to fight.”

Hog was secretly alarmed in his mind.

Despite having no doubts about the warriors of Sir Morphy’s men’s warlike and brave nature, the foes in front of them seemed a bit too tricky even for the undead warriors.

If he were commanding this assault, what would he do?

The Blood Claw Chief quickly pondered this question as a sort of brainstorming during the boring wait.

Professor Malcolm, who taught him history, had said that the brain must be used frequently, the more one uses it, the better it works, otherwise even the best initial intelligence will quickly deteriorate due to excessive idleness.

Hog could be patient.

But the few Barbarian Soldiers next to him were starting to get impatient.

Especially after the waiting time stretched past twenty minutes, several hot-tempered guys had already started whispering and eying the “Necromancer” in front of them with malicious glances, seemingly considering where to strike so as to make this loathsome creature die painfully?

No, that’s not right to say.

A “Necromancer,” already dead, couldn’t die again, even if it were really chopped up it would just be a pastime during boredom for them.

While Hog was lost in thought, his adjutant Nash was also observing the surroundings.

But unlike Hog’s arrogant thoughts about how to take down the town with his own Clan, Nash was contemplating more realistic issues.

In case their real identities were discovered by the Jackal Warlocks, which route should they take to escape the fastest?

And if that situation really happened, could they actually get away?

Although Nash knew that his Chieftain definitely had some secretive relationship with the newly promoted King of Transylvania, he had no direct understanding of the players’ combat power and didn’t think the Vampires of Transylvania had any advantage in front of this fortress-like swamp town.

“Chieftain, someone’s coming!”

After a few more minutes of waiting, Nash carefully nudged Hog, waking him from his thoughts.

The Chieftain looked up and saw a Jackal-man Guard riding a Seat Wolf dashing out from the town.

He was clad in a full set of Chainmail that was luxurious by Jackal and Wolf standards, and was also wearing a War Helmet that protected the eyes, carrying a formidable decapitation broadsword on his back, his demeanor exuding that of an elite.

Hog sharply noticed that the decorations on the Seat Wolf ridden by this guy were exactly the same as the ones from Kenbort, and he realized that this was also a vanguard from the Bonebite Clan.

As the fellow approached, Hog’s eyes twisted in decision to take a gamble.

He pounced with a howl, startling the Jackal-man’s mount, who also instinctively grabbed the Flail in the saddlebag.

Then he saw the scrawny Jackal-man in front of him collapse to the ground, screaming in his hoarse voice:

“Sir!

The great King Kenbort died so miserably, his head still hangs on the gate tower of Crimson Castle, those barbaric Vampires display it as a majestic spoil.

You must avenge the wise and mighty King Kenbort!”

“Get up!

What a disgraceful fellow.”

The Jackal-man Vanguard captain riding the Seat Wolf had never seen such a thing; they didn’t do things like this in the Dark Mountain Range, but such a disgraceful Posture was clearly that of a coward from Transylvania!

Sure enough, all the rumors within the Clan were true!

The great King of Bone Biting had spread the bloodline of the Jackal People throughout the Continent, and yet other Jackal People, due to their distance from the Sacred land, were nowhere near the Werewolves of the Dark Mountain Range in terms of physical or willpower.

Look at this disgraceful Posture!

Listen to these feeble howlings!

Pah, he was ashamed to be associated with such a creature, their existence simply desecrated the name of the Jackal People that was supposed to be brimming with Strength.

However, this guy did have some redeeming qualities.

Looking down with contempt, the Bone-Biting Vanguard captain thought:

“Daring to risk being torn apart by the Skeleton Army to come and report and ask for help, seems like this weak creature has some Loyalty after all.

Kenbort, that arrogant fool, did well in Transylvania, although he died a foolish death due to complacency, he actually managed to train such a loyal Servant…”