Chapter 1290

"Vladimir, have you heard that we are going to raid the winter palace?" A Mao Federation player in armor, with two axes pinned to his waist, squatted beside the fire pit, warming his hands and rubbing his hands.

His name is Mikhail giakojize, a kisrif sideguard. He has black hair, a bushy beard almost connected to his hair, and his whole face seems to be hidden behind his hair, which makes people worry that the bonfire in the pit will ignite him.

"Yes, Mikhail, we're going to raid the winter palace." Vladimir, leaning against his bear companion, covered his face with a leather hat to avoid the cold wind: "this damn game, we have to fight another civil war to recover our core territory."

"No way. The character of our Aboriginal rulers is really similar to that of the Czar in history." Mikhail reached out from the fire and pulled out a few tubers. He felt nothing about the licking of the fire tongue: "the czars of the Xinhua people are good at speaking, but they let their positions out so easily."

"What are we waiting for up here?" Suddenly, a tall player stood up in the snow, shaking his head in search of vodka: "is there any more wine? I have to drink more! "

"Without Yuri, not a mouthful!" Mikhail called out discontentedly: "all let you drink up! That's our three-day reserve

Yuri fainted back two steps, clang when sitting on the ground, a half buried in snow carriage was half of the giant Yuri leaning out half a meter away, and Yuri did not seem to feel anything, twisted his huge body to find a comfortable position and sleep in the past.

"Hi! Yuri! Don't sleep, come and light up again Mikhail lost a baked potato in the past. Yuri flicked lazily with his little finger, and the fire in the pit suddenly expanded again.

"Don't bother him, Mikhail. Yuri has his own troubles." A female ranger in a dark cloak fell soundlessly from the tree trunk, leaving no footprints in the snow.

"What have you found, Zhuoya?" Vladimir's voice was put on behind the hat. They were a five member team with members from all over the world. There were many such teams. They had no time to gather the participants of the glory war spirit contest before setting out. They could only set out first and then meet.

And these people are not only to participate in the bloody glory war spirit competition, but also to solve the current chaos in kisriff kingdom.

After meeting, they will secretly sneak into the capital of kisliv Kingdom, rush into the winter palace where the Czar lives, kill all the bastards who refuse to submit, and then end the civil war.

Maybe they will all die in the middle of the road, but who cares? Anyway, they can come back to life. If they don't succeed this time, try again. Even if they don't succeed, they can mobilize more players.

The Maoists are fed up with this situation, and now they intend to put an end to this situation. Nothing can prevent the reunification of the country. Even the legendary strongmen will surely succumb to the strength of the people!

"I didn't see anyone. Maybe they were late. Maybe the information we got was inaccurate." Zhuoya sat by the campfire and snatched the baked potato from the other party's hand in Mikhail's complaint: "the snow is too heavy, even I can't walk too far, it's too easy to get lost."

"It doesn't matter. We keep waiting. Anyway, at least the potatoes are enough." Vladimir's voice sounds like falling asleep.

The only player who didn't speak was karamurza, Tatar. The player walking on the road of swordsman is not rare in the cold land of kisrif, but few players choose this road.

They die too easily.

It means literally that the swordsman and the martial monks can't wear armour. The martial monks have more or less the skills and talents to reduce damage, increase defense and cure themselves, while the swordsman has embarked on the road of pursuing the ultimate lethality.

Asceticism is their daily life. Most swordsmen are reticent, which is in line with karamurza's character. Vladimir did not hear the companion say a few words, and even introduced himself simply by his name and occupation.

"Someone's coming." The swordsman with his hair in a ponytail suddenly opened his eyes. The mysterious Qi energy instantly shook the snow on kalamurza, and a black cutlass was held by the swordsman.

The profession of swordsman originated from the loess area, but with its spread in the world, the inheritance of swordsman refers to the inheritance of will and spirit, not from weapons.

Most swordsmen outside the loess area don't use swords as their weapons. Karamurza's machetes are reliable. If Aragon, a well-informed white wolf, is here, he will tell you that the swordsman with the hammer is the real one.

As the swordsman reminds them, a line of seven big players in black cloaks appear in front of them.

The leading player took off his hood and showed his scaly face below. He said with a grin at the corners of his mouth: "we are ordered to join us. From now on, we are under the command of lieutenant Vladimir.""It's impossible! I just checked that direction! " Zhuoya asked with some embarrassment: "how did you come here?"

"Teleport magic, ma'am. We're from hell." The first player in the black robe unbuttoned his cloak to reveal the strong body hidden under the cloak, the thick cuticle skin and two mini wings behind.

"So that rumor is true?" Mikhail is very familiar to go forward, want to touch the little wings with his fingers, but the other side dodged: "we really master the channel to the lower plane, but also sent players down to help the devil fight blood?"

"It's true. We have more than 100000 people down there." Hell players are not used to the snow on the ground, again wrapped up their own cloak.

"Damn it, how do they select people? I didn't make it? " Mikhail complained discontentedly, but Yuri was used to it. After all, he had seen the real devil in reality.

"We have been transferred to the established system, comrade. If we don't mind, we'd like to sit by the fire and chat. We don't quite adapt to the low temperature above. It's always hot below." Devil players behave more polite than other hairy players, giving people the illusion that they go to hell to study for a circle and become gentlemen.

In fact, of course, the devil is always polite, and the maozi drink up all the alcohol in hell.

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