"Sorry, Lord Iklit, I need to confirm something with the leader of the Plague Clan."
The engineer warlock interrupted their conversation and said to the leader of the Evil Plague clan.
"The flamethrowers of Clan Skryre are not produced by me. They are kept strictly confidential from me. The operators are also subordinates of other engineering warlocks. Can you describe to me what that thing looks like."
The Evil Plague clan scratched their dirty scalp and said.
"A bronze pipe about three claws thick, from which green flames scented with warpstone can be emitted."
Bronze? It seems to indicate that the temperature of the flame is not high.
Esky has been thinking about how to control the flames with dimension stones added.
Although it cannot be ruled out that his colleague just doesn't care how long the product lasts, this at least opened up Esky's thinking.
The caliber of the three claws, that is to say, is at least about 200 mm.
The engineering warlock licked his nose, trying to make his dry nose moist again.
Weapons of this caliber can only be the work of Chapo Gadgets, which is the original Skulli series.
After spending a few seconds thinking about it, the factory warlock gave up on making this thing in a short time.
If you find it now, not only will it be stolen, but the engineer warlock who lost his job in Skaven City will also come to settle the score with him.
It is safer to be conservative.
The two rat men, who were several rounds older than Esky, once again cast their eyes on the hilltop opposite, as if something was happening over there.
Afraid that Nagash would follow his gaze and find this place, Esky immediately pulled the wizard spirit and hid again.
This provoked both the leader of the Evil Epidemic and Ikrit to burst into harsh laughter, humiliating the young rat.
On the opposite hill, the battle failed again. The Gray Prophet was able to gather fewer troops this time than last time.
Likewise, they routed faster, as if they had learned how to escape from such a steep rocky slope more quickly from their previous defeat.
The chief of the Evil Plague clan looked at it and shook his head.
The secret of the Ratmen's military use is not only to make them blinded by greed, but also to make them fall into a situation with no retreat on the battlefield.
Only when there is no way out will the desperate rats unleash their most powerful fighting ability in their lives.
But this technique requires very sophisticated conspiracy calculations.
It requires the superb command skills of the warlord, so that the rat troops are unaware of their situation before they step into the dead end, but they immediately become aware of their situation the moment they step into the dead end.
In this way, the smell of fear in the rat's glands will be transformed into the smell of battle as quickly as possible, making the rat's will to fight stronger than the undead.
On the open ground, the rats will have the idea of escape no matter what, because the warlords cannot even make most of them pay the price for escaping in this kind of terrain.
As long as the warlord punishes some of them, the others will scatter in the wilderness.
The troops currently fighting did not belong to the original expeditionary force. They were troops recruited by the Gray Prophet Staden through his own connections.
The Barrier Breaker Clan, the Plague Clan, and all other clans from the first expedition have grown to a huge group of 110,000 clans/storm rats, plus tens of thousands of slave rats in the past ten years.
Compared with the 50,000 soldiers and less than 10,000 slave rats during the first expedition, it is already a bit better.
After these damn bastards bring back the news of the failure, they immediately launch a military coup on the front lines.
No, it’s not a coup, it should be called bringing order to chaos.
Ikrit touched the amulet around his waist. He was an agent personally appointed by the parliament.
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dividing line
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Nagash's mood is already a little better than before.
Although dirty, smelly rats are still emerging in endlessly, if they can continue to be as stupid as they are now, the army to destroy Nehekhara can still be built at a slow speed.
Instead of constantly losing it like it was more than ten years ago.
Although this time needs to be calculated in hundreds of years, it is better than continuously weakening more than ten years ago.
He still remembered that insidious and cunning opponent, like a python, entangled his troops and made them unable to breathe.
As long as he launches an attack, that despicable rat will attack the flank from nowhere. In the end, the troops will inevitably become weaker and weaker. If they go too deep, they will even be surrounded and annihilated.
It's like a Total War player facing another Skaven player with unlimited underground threats and almost no CD.
The rats in front of him seemed to be playing house with him, attacking, fleeing, attacking again, and fleeing again.
The number of his troops lost in the flight was greater than that in the frontal battle.
It's so boring.
He came out in a sedan chair today because he was afraid that these rats might play some new tricks on him, and the result would be just like that stupid attack four months ago.
These ground attack rats don't even know that his troops are afraid of fire.
"I hope the stickman can cause more damage to that bastard named Staden. Why don't you come out and face Nagash yourself, you who grew up eating shit in a filthy feces-stained breeding pit?" On the other side of the mountain, Ikrit cursed.
"Stickman?"
The engineer warlock looked at them in confusion.
Although I am vaguely aware that this is the nickname of the undead, it seems that matches and the undead are not connected together?
For example, dwarf stuff, pointy-eared stuff, hairless monsters, they sound very clear.
"Those skeleton things and those carnivorous things are like matches, they light up when pressed, and the ashes after burning look like large matches. We call them stick men."
Ikrit explained.
It's been decades, and he doesn't even remember who the funny rat gave him this nickname.
"My greatest battle was when I set fire to eight mines with stick figures in a row and burned tens of thousands of necromancers. The necromancer must have gone crazy."
The leader of the evil plague clan smiled and looked at the big sedan chair opposite.
"You are hysterical. Most of that battle was completed by my troops."
Ikrit immediately retorted.
"That was about thirty years ago. I think you are hysterical."
The two sides quarreled again.
Two old guys, whose age had already exceeded the biological limits of rat-men several times over, had a heated argument over this inexplicable issue.
The corner of Eski's mouth twitched. The relationship between these two is really good, better than most Skaven relationships.
When most Skaven have a dispute, it will most likely end up sideways.
Just as he was thinking about it, a mouse jumped on him.
The letterbox on its back is engraved with the emblem of the Skry clan.
"The details of the next meeting will be handed over at your factory tonight."