PS: Brothers, I need to ask for help.
¥f, because from today this book has not been recommended without any recommendations, and it has started to run naked.
In order not to let me drown in the vast sea of books, can you do me a favor?
The little white rabbit has good teeth and is not picky: clicks, recommendations, collections, subscriptions, monthly passes, rewards, you can ...... you lose something, let me show my head on the random list, don't be forgotten.
The little white rabbit thanked you in advance.
After buying protective gear for several people, Diego decided to solve the manpower problem first.
He couldn't have just gone to his own territory alone, and of course it wasn't quite accurate, for Masley and Van Goreh had already made it clear that they wanted to go with him.
"You have to give me a piece of land in your territory, I'm going to grow a druid jungle," Masrae said, and he took Dagger Ridge on the map, as it was the most treed area in the entire Mooncreek area.
According to the three principles of the gnolls' territorial governance, Diego also felt that he had to have a territorial army of ten to twenty people.
Even if a few of them can drive the Defia Brotherhood away, someone has to do the daily territory patrols, security investigations and other things, and they can't be expected to do everything themselves.
However, in this unaccompanied Stormwind City, Diego seems to have only one way to recruit people.
Yes, take money to hire, that is, to recruit mercenaries.
As we all know, most of the people who join the mercenary industry are for money, strictly speaking, mercenaries and have a lot of similarities, they are the oldest professions, and they all make a living by selling their bodies.
In Azeroth.
The sources of mercenaries are very complex, and the barriers to entry are very low.
It doesn't matter if you're a farmer, a hooligan, a retired soldier, an outlaw, a prisoner, or whatever, regardless of race.
Regardless of your profession, as long as you are willing to take up arms and fight for your employer, then you are a mercenary.
There are very few assessments here, because the combat is more brutal than any assessment.
If you don't have two brushes, after a fight, you'll already be hung up, and you won't have the life to receive your employer's salary.
The mercenary business has been thriving in Azeroth.
When the orcs invaded, they hired goblins to transport logistics for them, and even directly participated in the battle.
Especially in recent years, due to the shrinkage of Stormwind's army, some mercenaries have to be hired from all over the kingdom to do some work such as protecting villages and towns, guarding caravans, etc.
The mercenaries' business flourished even more.
For those veterans who retired from the army but did not save enough for the rest of their lives, they will not know anything but kill, what should they do?
Being a mercenary seems to be the best choice.
In Azeroth.
The members of the mercenaries are not limited to humans, there are also some other races, such as goblins, dwarves, gnomes, and the like.
However, in recent years.
More and more gnolls have begun to join the business, and they are cheap, and a few copper coins or a simpler meal is their salary.
Although the combat effectiveness is almost.
But there's no denying that Gnolls are excellent cannon fodder.
Exit the Silver Shield and walk a short distance north along the alley.
It is the famous Pig and Whistle Hotel in the old town.
This is the meeting place of the mercenaries, who are here to find out the news.
Solicitation of jobs, and sometimes, some employers will bypass brokers and come directly here to recruit people.
The inn is covered with a tin-edged sign with a glass of bubbling liquor.
Even half across the street, you can hear the noise coming from the hotel.
Walking into the Pig and Whistle Hotel, a hot and foul air came to my face, and the smell of alcohol mixed with sweat almost smoked a few people.
The first floor of the hotel is a bar, and there are more than a dozen tables in it, and there are about a dozen people drinking and chatting around three or four tables, and from time to time there is a burst of rough laughter.
Among these people, there were guards who came here for a drink after their duty, there were adventurers, sailors, brokers, but many more were mercenaries.
The second floor is a quieter place, with people who seem to have status sitting on it, condescendingly drinking and drinking.
Looking at the brand-new Diego group, many people showed disdainful expressions, as if to say, look, there is another group of newcomers who don't understand fart!
The three of them did not speak, but found an empty seat and sat down.
After a while, a red-haired waitress in a leaky dress walked over.
The pieces of cloth on her body looked almost as if she were undressed, and her chest was snow-white, revealing deep furrows.
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"What do you want to drink?"
"A pot of dwarven spirits!
One more bacon and grilled quail, three cherry pies, and oh, a whole boar ham.
Diego looked at the menu and said, they haven't had lunch yet, so it's time to settle it here.
"Okay, right away."
The hostess winked at the Night Elves, then twisted her waist and walked to the back kitchen.
Diego ignored Masrae, who was already out of the world, but strangely enough, Van Goreh was not interested in the beautiful and sexy hostess, and just drooled and looked at the dishes at the next table.
"Hey!
Man," Diego raised an eyebrow at him, "how was that girl just now, is it hot enough?"
” "It's not good, it's so ugly, there's no hair on the face, and the teeth aren't sharp enough."
The gnoll said disdainfully, squinting and looking at the ceiling, probably remembering the beautiful gnolls in his hometown.
"Uh......"
Diego retreated.
While he was waiting for the wine to come, he looked around the hall.
It was still early in the dark, and there were not many mercenaries in the hotel, and when they saw Diego looking over, most of them glared at him fiercely, and when Diego looked away, he let out a smug laugh.
Diego was not in the mood to compete with them, so he swept around and looked back when he saw nothing noteworthy.
Just then, the hostess came over with food and a jug of dwarven spirits.
"You've got all your stuff, please use it slowly."
She put down the food and wine and left.
Diego tossed the whole boar ham to Guan Haifa and gave a cup to all three.
"I propose a toast for Reginald!"
Diego proposed, and apparently, all three agreed.
Having spent so much time in Azeroth, Diego has become accustomed to this dwarven way of drinking.
A huge wooden wine glass that can hold half a catty, and a cup is a cup when you look up.
The fiery burning sensation characteristic of dwarven spirits burned down the esophagus to the bottom of the stomach like a line of fire.
The spirit has a spicy taste, the only virtue is that it is extremely pure, it is like a flame to drink, it is a favorite of mercenaries and sailors, and more importantly, it is cheap, a pot of wine is only a few silver horns, which is perhaps the main reason for its popularity here.
Truth be told, Diego didn't have a particular fondness for this wine, and chose it more because he didn't want to attract attention.
"That's a lot of energy!"
Diego exhaled and exclaimed.
He lifted the jug and filled it to everyone.
"For our territory!"
He suggested again, and the three of them toasted again.
After two glasses of wine, several people's stomachs were hot, and their brains began to get a little drunk.
While the three of them were drinking, a middle-aged man limped in from the shadows under the stairs leading to the second floor.
He was wearing a shirt that hadn't been washed for an unknown amount of time, sticky and oily, his face was burnt yellow, his hair was sticking to his scalp one by one, and his whole body exuded a rancid smell.
The dejected creature looked at the flask on the table with his cloudy eyes, his Adam's apple squirming.
He swallowed his saliva and stumbled, "Can you please me for a drink?"
” "Hey, Bart?
Leiby, stay away from my guests.
Just then, Diego heard the direction of the bar, the young bartender David?
Langston shouted angrily.
Is he the innkeeper Rhys?
Langston's eldest son, who had also worked as a mercenary for a few years, had to return to the inn after suffering a serious injury to help his father with his business.
Diego smiled, interrupted the bartender with a wave of his hand, then gestured to the empty seat next to him and said to the drunk, "Yes, but you have to do me a favor."
(To be continued.) )u