Chapter 321: FFF group (Happy Mid-Autumn Festival)

The tribe has weakened.
As the most experienced in fighting the Horde, Lothar knew this.
Orc warriors are now better equipped than before, but their combat effectiveness is declining. Each of the orcs that Storm Kingdom first faced was a master of battle.
Any reckless attack, die!
Unresponsive at any moment, die!
Any attempt to force failed, die!
According to Duke, those are the best battles ever experienced after a war with an unknown race called the Draenei.
Not only does he know how to take advantage of all his strengths, the combat talent is unparalleled.
In the face of such brilliance, the Storm Kingdom soldiers are often beaten one to ten on the battle loss ratio.
However, after experiencing the Burnt City of Stormwind and two landings across the sea, Lothar has had difficulty seeing a large number of orcs of that quality.
Here on the coast of the South Stream, Lothar estimated that the war damage ratio has probably dropped to an orc to human ratio of 1 to 3. This is also because the orcs lack the support of warlocks, and the human race draws almost all fighting mages.
Now it is like a tipping point. Whoever goes through will win.
If this alliance can't carry it, the orcs will have a large number of elites who have experienced blood and fire. Even a hard work that would have used only a wooden hammer would grow into a formidable killing machine.
Conversely, well-trained Alliance forces, such as Lordaeron and Gilneas soldiers, will grow quickly.
It's almost as close as it gets.
But Lothar had dispatched the best troops he could send out. The strong tribe also has Uther with the elite of the Knights of the Silver Hand in response.
Except for sending himself up, Lothar could do nothing.
It's no wonder Terenas rushed into this!
If it was n’t for King Terenas who was still a bit sober, knowing that sending cavalry in this situation would be useless, and it is estimated that he would even hit the rest of his knights in one fell swoop.
Suddenly a noise sounded.
"Eh, this, Deputy Marshal Marshal sent me a message. In the event of unfavorable conditions, you can use the tactical strike force fff regiment." It was Duke's great steward Makaro.
When it comes to force, Macaroo is a scum.
In terms of ability, he has nothing outstanding, but his slickness and due diligence made him the most well-known mouthpiece of His Majesty Duke. On many occasions, he was even Duke's full agent, representing every word and deed Duke's attitude.
Now his appearance is undoubtedly a clear stream in the Union Headquarters.
"What? Duke can do it again !?" King Terenas grasped Makaro's shoulder in an endless surprise.
"Uh, this is just an experimental weapon. It hasn't been tested in actual combat, but my lord said, you can try it if necessary." Macaroo did not say anything, even if Duke's original words were "the group When the guys are about to collapse, send them up to kill the Quartet. "Makaro still carefully reserved the room for speaking.
"What is the fff group?" Lothar wondered, not that he didn't believe Duke. He borrowed himself and let Marcaro explain it to everyone.
"Um, it seems to be a bizarre language called fire, fire, fire or something? Changing to a common language means‘ fire, fire, fire! ’.

Duke's backhand heard Lothar's teeth hurt.
"Okay, don't say it, let me tell you how to cooperate with it. Would you like me to order the position of the crossbow or cannon?" In the imagination of Lothar and the big men, it can be used as a backhand It must be huge and terrible.
Macaro waved his hand: "No, we have all the preparations."
At the beach front, the league is losing ground.
Another line of defense, centered on a wooden fence, was completely destroyed.
The great lord Mograine ended up using an enormous machete to attack an orc who attempted to attack him. After cutting the guy in half, he quickly looked at the line of defense and immediately passed a messenger not far from him. Shouted at him: "Form a defensive squad! Return to the sixth fence and regroup!"
The soldier nodded, then raised his horn, sounded two short beeps, and then another three long beeps.
After hearing this voice, from the captains of the various squads to the mid-level school officials, they shouted orders to their own troops, gathered their soldiers, and formed a small square matrix staggered back, while ensuring that the orcs could not catch up.
U-turn everything is a fool. If you accidentally turn into defeat.
Humans with a height of 1.80 meters can run as fast as possible. For those orcs with a height of more than two meters, their short legs cannot run.
The Horde tried to break through these retreating square arrays, but the Alliance soldiers stood tightly together, holding their weapons firmly and stabbing any orc that was approaching.
Even in the backward state, each squad erected their shields and connected them together to ensure that each of the orcs' heavy blows was sustained by more than three people at the same time.
Small shield walls are moving.
The orcs kept pounding these squads in absolute numbers, and if they were lucky, they could knock them over. Once they fall, there is basically no chance to get up again, and the orcs will definitely come up to make up for the knife.
Fortunately, most Alliance soldiers were able to successfully retreat to the next line of defense.
Looking at the sky, Mograine had unspeakable sorrow.
"It won't work! Until the evening, the entire coastline will collapse ..." Looking at the sunset, Mograine was worried.
The artisans are frantically installing fences and antlers, but the new line of defense must not be as stable as the first few old lines. If it is not possible to curb the tribe's offensive before dark, and turn the engagement into a positional battle, it will be clear that humans who have lost their individual combat power will lose out in the night battle.
At this time, a number of dazzling fires emerged from the place behind Mograine, and waved in the mid-air in the middle of the battlefield.
Obviously, this is something that has nothing to do with magic and mysticism.
When Mograine turned around, he saw a group of personal soldiers of Duke Marcus of the Storm Kingdom standing on the next line of defense.
It was more durable than the magician's flame, and it had a brighter, longer glare. Dozens of tongues of fire that kept rolling out from the upper floor of the arrow made the little half of the battlefield burn.
The dazzling flames of light made all other colors on the battlefield dim, and even compared the sunlight that had begun to disappear.
Fear of flames, which is the most primitive instinct of almost all land creatures. Its fear came from the fire in the virgin forest billions of trillions ago. From the moment of the forest fire, the fear of flames has been rooted in the genes of land creatures.
The tribe's aggressive onslaught temporarily stopped.
Mograine finally had a chance to see the logo on the strange group of soldiers. It was three consecutive, identical symbols.
fff (To be continued.)
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