At this time, the situation on the battlefield changed rapidly, and the rhythm was basically controlled by the Plantagenet Mercenaries.
Sometimes the Highland Swordsmen charged forward en masse, engaging in a stalemate with the Undead; sometimes they quickly retreated, and then the Lobster Lancers, who had finished reloading their ammunition, stood up and fired at the Undead in unison.
Some players who are interested in research say that this rifle that needs to be reloaded and bolted after each shot is actually a "magnetic storm Gauss rifle" driven by an electromagnetic coil. Ask is not a military science fiction enthusiast, so he doesn't know much about this.
But of course he had used this gun in the game. It had a slow firing rate, great damage, and excellent armor-piercing and penetration capabilities. Even a Titan would be seriously injured if it was hit by one shot.
Because of this, if I rashly join the battlefield, I might be entangled by the Highland Swordsmen who cannot distinguish between friend and foe, and then be fired upon by the Lobster Lancers... After all, the appearance and dress of the Highland Swordsmen and the Lobster Lancers are very, uh, recognizable, and I can't easily blend in.
I guess there is a high probability that they will be mistaken for undead ghosts disguised as humans.
Therefore, out of caution for his own safety, Ask did not rush into the battlefield, but found a flat spot on a nearby hill, took out a picnic blanket and spread it on the ground.
Then sat down and brought out... the BBQ and cold beer.
The grilled meat was all skewered and brushed with sauce by Nora, and after turning it on the grill for a while, it began to sizzle with oil. The golden fat fell on the charcoal fire, making a sizzling sound and white smoke.
The beer was all iced, and drinking iced beer in this weather was very suitable. After moving the grill to a lower position, Ask continued to grill while watching the battlefield below.
Just then, I saw a tall Highland swordsman chop off the zombie's head with one sword, while roaring and shouting loudly with his face covered with oil paint.
"Good!" Ask nodded. The beheading just now was indeed very beautiful - especially with the ghoul lying on the ground in an awkward position, it was quite difficult to cut off its neck accurately.
He took a bite of the grilled beef skewer and felt the delicious fat bursting from his mouth and tongue, and every taste bud on his tongue was delighted.
As they ate and drank leisurely, time gradually passed to noon, and the war below was still not over.
Of course it can't end, because the undead have no concept of truce.
As long as the undead do not retreat on their own initiative, the Plantagenets will certainly not be able to retreat either. Otherwise, if they retreat to the fortress and the undead are chasing them, the people in the fortress will definitely not dare to open the door to the mercenaries.
Everyone had been fighting since morning and had not had a drop of water. They were already hungry and thirsty, and their throats felt like they were on fire. However, the undead had no intention of retreating, so everyone could only curse and continue to push the front line forward, trying to crush the will of the commander in the rear of the undead army.
Although it is well known that in the eyes of the commander, ordinary undead soldiers are worthless.
McGregor was the most skilled warrior among the Highland Swordsmen, and had the most medals of honor pinned on her skirt. Each medal represented survival from a fierce battle.
However, even he could no longer bear the high-intensity combat for several hours straight. He felt as if the stomach acid was going to burn a hole through his stomach. Damn the undead.