Just being a dark elf in Warhammer - Chapter 827

c768 619 Never Forgive Understand and Become (Transition Chapter)

Ulthuan, Kingdom of Nagaryth.

It was fate, of course, or maybe luck. When the sea swallowed Nagaryth, Alandrian happened to be in the ringed mountains.

Following Druchi’s defeat in the decisive battle, he led his remaining forces into the swamps rather than follow Malekith and Morathi to escape to Tal An’lek, believing that Nagaryth’s capital would Become a prison rather than a refuge when Imrik’s army besieges you. However, he never expected at the time that those he had loyal to would have such crazy plans and do such crazy things.

When the northern tide swept through everything and turned the entire Nagaryth into a vast ocean, as the former lord of Esso Talarian, he and the warriors watched helplessly as the huge wave hit with terrifying power, destroying everything it reached. Sweep all the places.

Nagaryth became a sunken land, the highest mountains became islands, and cities, villages and farmland were all swallowed up by the sea.

That had been four days ago, and like everyone else, he was shocked by the disaster, but he was an opportunist that hadn’t changed in a thousand years. After the old order was destroyed, only those with ability could become the new owners of this broken land. Under his leadership, the few remaining troops went deep into the valley and marched towards a settlement of the Anar family.

It would be a humble beginning as he prepared to capture villages and convert the villagers into his servants. He accompanied Malekith to visit Elsin Alvin, conquered the wilderness, and played a major role in the establishment of the colony. Now, he wants to start his journey again from this valley.

But soon, an ominous sign appeared, and the scouts sent out failed to return the noon report on time. He immediately ordered the team to stop and sent more soldiers to find the missing scout. However, when the sun gradually set in the west, these newly dispatched soldiers did not return.

At this time, two choices were placed in front of him, one was to camp where he was, and the other was to withdraw from the valley. After some decision-making, he decided to hold his position rather than retreat in the night. He knew that the rebels knew these lands far better than he did, and they must have chosen the best place for an ambush, waiting for his retreat.

Soldiers lit bonfires at the edge of the camp to drive away the encroaching darkness. The crossbowmen holding repeating crossbows stood guard on the outside, careful not to let their figures be reflected in the firelight, while the fear spearmen formed a defensive circle around Alandrian.

When the sun disappeared, the warriors of the Anar family began to show their whereabouts. Arrows shot out from the shadows. More than a dozen warriors fell down, and then the crisp echo of the repeating crossbows made a counterattack. But the shouts of the crossbowmen revealed their frustration. The rebels, wearing gray and green cloaks, blended in with the rocks and shrubs, and their figures moved through the night like ghosts.

“Advance westward!”

After a moment of stalemate, Alandrian gave an order to a captain. His judgment was wrong. The rebels were stronger than he thought. If they stayed here to hold on, morale and order would be destroyed, and the troops would never be able to hold on until dawn.

“Take two hundred warriors and engage those elusive enemies. If possible, open a road for us to evacuate.”

After receiving the order, the captain broke out of the camp without hesitation. At this time, more arrows struck from the darkness, but he was still executing the order, leading the soldiers into the hazy night.

Alandrian stayed where he was, boosting morale, but he could not prevent more warriors from falling under the hail of arrows. The wounded crawled in the long grass, groans and cries disrupting his hearing, but he still listened carefully, hoping to hear the sound of weapons clashing as he broke out to engage the enemy. However, apart from the wails of the wounded, the only sounds that came to my ears were the sound of wind, the creaking of branches and the rustling of leaves.

Realizing that the bonfire was aiding the enemy rather than aiding his own attack, he ordered the fire to be extinguished. In the night, he tried to capture the moving figures in the camp, but he could only see fleeting blurry shadows. From time to time, a cold light suddenly appeared, and the next moment an arrow pierced the air, killing a soldier. The crossbowmen held repeating crossbows and fired dense crossbow arrows, but they never heard any screams from the enemy or the sound of arrows being hit.

Soon after, Alandrian heard a sound coming from the west, but it was not the sound he wanted. The screams from the west tore through the night sky, and the voices calling for help and begging for mercy soon fell silent, and then the intensity of the arrow rain increased again. He knew that the breakout had failed. He could feel the panic of the soldiers. He knew that the soldiers were about to collapse. He didn’t want to be abandoned in the retreat, so he ran towards the hill.

He had just run less than two hundred steps when he saw a lone figure appear against the moon and put an arrow on a silver bow. He sighed, he knew who the figure was, he was facing the leader of the rebels, the existence he had captured, the self-proclaimed “King of Shadows” Aris Anar.

He stood there calmly, ready to die, but the arrow struck him in the thigh. He lost his support and fell to the ground, but he did not crawl hard and try to escape from this place. Instead, he suppressed himself from moaning in pain. He turned his body over and looked at the twin moons in the night sky. He knew that it was left to him. Time is running out.

Soon, a shadow fell over him, and then a boot slammed into his head.

“It’s good that you didn’t run away, so I didn’t have to spend time chasing you!” Before he lost consciousness, he heard a voice, and then he lost consciousness.

When he woke up again, he found that his back was leaning against something hard and the surroundings were dark. But in the light of the fire, he saw that his hands were tied and the rope was wrapped around the branches of the small tree behind him. , his ankles were also tied to the arched structure of the tree roots with another rope. When he was fully awake, he realized that he was surrounded by a group of people, mostly children.

“I have been looking forward to this moment for a long time. The father of Heliben the Butcher of Cosqui, Alandrian!” Aris pulled down his hood and walked out of the crowd.

“Kill me, just do it!” There was only calmness in Alandrian’s words.

“No, your death will not be so quick. You must pay for the torture and pain you have brought to others.”

“So, you are going to leave me here? Starve me to death?” The onlookers began to leave gradually. As the people dispersed, Alandrian saw some cottages made of logs under the slope not far away. . He showed a strange smile, he knew what these newly built cottages represented, and then he looked at Aris calmly.

“Too fast…” Aris shook his head and continued, “The children will come to feed you food and give you water every day. They will grow up day by day, and they will look at the scum that destroyed their home.”

“That’s it? Are you planning to make me a prisoner?” Alandrian laughed.

“The elves have a long life, and they will watch the trees grow very high.” Aris looked up at the tree where Alandrian was tied. After speaking, he turned and left. When he was about to take steps to leave, he again Turning his head, “Remember this, as the years slowly pass, the rope will become tighter and tighter, never forgive!”

——

Aris did not kill Alandrian directly, but chose a method of chronic torture, tying Alandrian to a tree, allowing Alandrian to face his past and live to witness what happened to those who suffered because of it. growing up. This kind of torture was not only physical, but also mental. It made Alandrian feel the weight of “never forgive” for a long time.

Alandrian is tied to a tree, symbolizing that he has to face his sins, being anchored like a tree to his past mistakes. Those newly built cottages are a symbol of hope, representing the gradual revival of the destroyed homeland. His situation looks even more bleak in contrast to the cottages.

The life of an elf is long. Aris uses this to let the children grow up and learn the understanding of “hatred”. His plan is to let this hatred be passed down from generation to generation.

The rope will become tighter and tighter, which is a metaphor that not only refers to the physical rope that will gradually tighten due to the passage of time and the growth of trees, but also means that Alandrian’s crimes will deepen his notoriety in the memories of others over time. Eventually he had no way to escape.

But now…

After Aris shot that arrow, he knew that there was no chance. Morathi would not give him a chance to shoot a second arrow. The next moment, he was still standing there, squinting his eyes and beginning to doubt his own eyes and judgment, because it was a scene he had never seen before, and had never imagined even in his most bizarre nightmares.

In just a short moment, the figure swooped past with the dragon, as if a gust of wind passed across his sight. The strong wind caused by the dragon ruffled his cloak and disturbed his thoughts. He couldn’t help but look, but only saw the dragon and the figure’s retreating back.

This is impossible, absolutely impossible.

Alandrian is long dead, his body should have rotted into dust, and his name has become a shadow in thousands of hate stories.

But at this moment, that familiar face, that cold expression, and that arrogant posture were standing there alive, wearing the gorgeous dragon armor that Aris had seen in the family library when he was a child, exuding a terrifying aura.

With such a majestic appearance, it was as if the entire Nagaros had surrendered to him.

“This is impossible!”

Aris growled lowly, his lips trembling uncontrollably. He didn’t know if he had seen it wrong, but that brief glance made a huge wave in his heart. He shook his head hard, trying to erase that figure from his mind, but no matter what, the familiar silhouette always lingered. Don’t go.

He rubbed his eyes, hoping that all this was just his hallucination. Maybe it was the exhaustion of the past few days that made him have ridiculous associations. However, that figure was real. The moment they looked at each other, the figure stared at him with eyes full of oppression.

“He’s dead! This is impossible! He can’t come back!”

His chest heaved violently, and he stepped back step by step, but his legs began to weaken uncontrollably. He forced himself to calm down, telling himself that it was just an illusion, or just another similar existence.

His brain told him it was a nightmare, but his body insisted it was reality. He subconsciously touched his silver bow, only to find that his hands were trembling slightly, and the strings were being pulled slowly and hard.

“No! It can’t be him! He’s dead!”

He shook his head wildly, but none of this broke his illusion.

After a long time, he finally calmed down and figured it out. The figure he saw was definitely not the long-dead Alandrian. It was most likely a descendant of Alandrian, and this descendant was far more terrifying and powerful than Alandrian.

Perhaps, this was the reason why Lilith guided him to Naggaroth.

Soon, another question came to his mind. Who was the figure standing next to the figure? Where did he seem to have seen it? Not long ago, decades ago, in Ulthuan, in Lothern, in the Phoenix Court, but he couldn’t remember it for a moment.

After a while, he had re-entered the woods and was stunned there. He remembered.

“Why is he here? Shouldn’t he be in Elsin Alvin?”

(Why did he react like this? I won’t do reading comprehension)

—

Darkius leaned against the fence of the raider, lowered his head slightly, holding a lit pipe in his mouth, and holding the arrow that pierced Sulefit’s head between his fingers.

The whistling cold wind swept across the deck, brushing his long hair with a deep chill. He didn’t look at anyone, but just stared at the arrow in his hand, as if he wanted to see something from it. But the arrow just lay quietly in his palm, with a faint metallic luster, making his face even gloomier.

Not far away, Drusala, Haglin, Alatar and several sorceresses surrounded Colonia, their faces full of worry.

Colonia was in a very bad condition at the moment. Her eyes turned black and she curled up, her fingers tightly grasping the deck, and there was still black blood at the corner of her mouth. Her breathing was rapid and disordered, and every vomiting seemed to drain all the strength in her body. Drusala half-knelt beside her, one hand gently supporting her shoulders, and the other hand kept casting spells to try to relieve her pain.

However, no matter how hard Drusala tried, her condition still did not improve, but fortunately it did not get worse.

She gained the effect of the magic eye that could not be removed in any way for a period of time, but the magic eye effect only stayed for a period of time, not permanently. According to her strength, it might be the next second, tomorrow, or next month.

In addition to the magic eye, there was nausea.

Uncontrollably vomiting, vomiting vomit that was more smelly than what the body could produce.

Now she has vomited for several rounds and has nothing left to vomit. Fortunately, she was so strong that she didn’t have the backlash of the magic wind, that is, her body exploded…

Darkius glanced at the scene over there, frowned slightly, but didn’t go over. He knew that these female sorcerers were experienced, and if they were helpless, his appearance would be useless. He exhaled a puff of smoke and turned his attention back to the arrow in his hand.

There is no doubt that he failed.

In addition to the bumps and bruises that occurred during the dive, Colonia was the most seriously injured. She failed to counterattack successfully and was backlashed, causing adverse reactions.

Just like some fantasy novels, breaking through oneself requires overcoming tribulations and crossing extremely dangerous barriers. The task of counterattack was not deliberately arranged by him, but Colonia fought for it herself. According to his old B’s thinking, he should adopt a team approach, that is, a group fight…

Perhaps soon, Colonia, who has already stepped into the legend with one foot, will step over with the other foot.

Except for Colonia, the other sorceresses were safe and sound. There was no explosion or crash of the assault ship. Moreover, they did not engage in substantial combat during the pursuit, but only operated the assault ship.

If Dacus’s idea was followed… Fortunately, none of this happened.

Splintwin, Skarandil, Kudnos, Azogallon, Ibas and Carmine threw away the meaningless chains and seats and transformed into dragonborn forms again. They gathered together and talked in what they thought was a low voice. Kudnos gestured with his hands to indicate the flight trajectory just now. They reviewed the whole operation and occasionally laughed and teased each other’s mistakes.

Although the pursuit failed, they did not look depressed, but more tired and resentful.

Maranul was walking around, organizing the soldiers to build a defense circle. The soldiers, whose morale was a little low, moved quickly, placed the equipment removed from the dragon’s spine at a high point, adjusted the angle of the crossbow to aim at the forest, and were always alert to the movements around them.

Dacus looked elsewhere again, and after a moment, his body began to shake. He was amused.

Talos kicked Isharion into the deep snow, and he fell flat on his face. Gilead and Kerillian, who were holding bows and on guard, did not think of pulling Isharion up, but looked at the joke and smiled and praised Talos.

After seeing Aris, Isharion was like a madman, and began to chatter endlessly. When he was on the dragon head, he made Dacus very annoyed, and when he landed, he began to torture others.

Fortunately, Dacus was an extraordinary existence, and he had already practiced it. He did not explode because of the failure of the pursuit and the endless chattering, and then transferred his anger to Isharion’s head.

Come to think of it, he could understand why Isharion was like this, Naggaroth and Ulthuan were in a war confrontation.

Originally, Eltharion was supposed to follow Finnubar’s delegation to visit Elsin Arwen.

But he went straight to Naggaroth. Coming from one continent to another, his identity was secret, like a thief, with a strong sense of stealing.

As a result, Eltharion was discovered before he even set foot on Naggaroth, and it was Aris who discovered him.

Yes, Eltharion had not set foot on the land of Naggaroth before. He had been on the dragon’s body until the pursuit failed, and then he officially set foot on this cold land.

No one could accept this. It was normal for him to be in a state of shock and restlessness.

Dacus stood up and walked over to Isharion’s side, but he did not want to pull up Isharion, who had turned over and was staring at the sky. He squatted aside and looked at Isharion quietly.

“What should I do?” Isharion asked blankly when Dacus appeared from Isharion’s sight.

“What do you mean? And how many times have you said this sentence repeatedly from just now to now?” Dacus’s calm words revealed patience and persuasion. After a pause, “What can I do? Just do it!”

“Is this also in your plan?” Isharion sat up from the ground and stared at Dacus.

Dacus did not say anything, but pointed his left index finger at Isharion, looked at the people around him, and smiled like Donnie Yen.

“Am I so unbearable?”

Talos’s expression was calm when asked by Dacus. From Laurenloren to Kor Vanas, from Athel Loren to Lustria, and from Asheril to Naggaroth, he had seen too much along the way, and his mentality had changed a long time ago. He and Gilead had encountered the same thing, but Gilead was lucky, and he…

He could only follow Dacus. He knew that among all the elves, only Dacus could really help him, and Dacus was willing to help him. He just wanted to find his lover’s soul, and then place it in Laurenloren according to the tradition of Enil, instead of taking his relatives and a few troops to start an expedition and die in a dangerous place.

He was not selfish to this extent. His lover was his concern, and his relatives were also his concern. If he really did this, it would be in line with Dacus’s words “add oil”. And Dacus was also worthy of his following and serving.

He shook his head and responded to Dacus’ question.

“Isn’t it?”

“Get lost!” Dacus waved his hand at Kerillian with a look of disgust.

Like Talos, Gilead didn’t say anything, but patted his chest. The place he patted was exactly where his brother’s soul stone was. For him, it didn’t matter where it was. What mattered was that he was always with his brother. Only when the souls of the two brothers blended together, he and his brother would get a moment of peace.

“You think too much, I’m not that magical. I know you are afraid…worried about something, but what I want to say is that you seem to think too much…the facts are not as serious as you think.” Dacus shrugged at Isharion.

“But…” Isharion, frowning, said a word and was stunned.

“It seems that you have regained your composure. Then think about it carefully. What can he do? Return to Ulthuan and accuse you? How to accuse? Politically, this is an attack on a faction. He said he saw you in Naggaroth? I can imagine the expressions of those rubbish when they heard this.

He had a hard time in Ulthuan. How can he explain why he came to Naggaroth? You also know the situation in Naggaroth. Is this a provocation? Will those rubbish suspect that he has any collusion with Naggaroth?

Even if what he said is true, what can he do? Confront your father? Will your father admit it? Send someone to Elsin Arwen to find you?”

After Daxus finished speaking, he pulled up Essarion who had come to his senses and patted the snow on Essarion’s shoulder armor.

“But… the delegation will return to Ulthuan sooner or later.”

“I haven’t been to Laurent Loren, but I know that Athel Loren is very big.” Kerillian, who was watching the fun, said softly.

Dacus didn’t say anything, but turned away. After looking at Colonia for a while, he returned to where he sat before.

“What’s next?” Maranul, who had arranged everything, sipped the ground, looked at the forest, and then sat next to Dacus.

Dacus knew what his brother was asking, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he handed the arrow to Maranul. Then he rubbed his face with his hands, put his elbows on his thighs, and held his cheeks with both hands.

“The emblem of the Anar family, the shadow king may be in the forest… looking at us coldly?” Maranul picked up the arrow and looked at it for a while, then threw it aside.

“Let me think about it.”

This time it was Maranul who didn’t say anything.

Dacus felt that his head was confused. He actually thought about the mind map of whether to help an old man who fell down or not. However, this is exactly the dilemma he is facing now. He did not enter the stage of not helping and nothing happened, but entered the stage of helping.

At this moment, he suddenly understood Tzeentch a little.

This failed raid was decided and planned by him, after talking with Malekith through the mirror.

Originally, he and Malekith had only planned to purge a group of disloyal dread lords, and then reform the military system, changing the nobles’ army to generals commanding the army, and taking a big step forward.

The specific implementation process is: targeted blasting.

More specifically, Malekith sent Hemara, who had a lover relationship with Tigasus before, to attract Tigasus, and then Tigasus even bit the baitless straight hook, and really took the bait.

Malekith pardoned Tigasus’s crime, but this does not mean that Tigasus patted his butt and thought it was nothing. Things have already happened, and Tigasus has no choice but to keep going.

It turns out that Dacius and Malekith, or rather Tigarthus, succeeded. Tigarthus used midnight conspiracies and various means to instigate a group of dread lords who were already restless and had some ideas, preparing to find an opportunity to launch an attack, while Malekith watched coldly.

The plains north of Naggarond were full of military camps because Asheril’s ten-year period had expired and the investment settlement had to be made. In addition to the settlement, Aegirether also spread rumors: after the settlement, an attack on Ulthuan would be launched directly.

And then there was nothing else, just gather people together for a meeting, I’m here to hold a meeting…

Malekith was responsible for purging the disloyal faction, and Dacius would not intervene.

As long as Dacius stood there, he was the greatest support for Malekith, and he didn’t need to take action at all. What he had to do was to deal with the aftermath and stabilize the families that had not been purged. He always keeps his word, and his generosity and kindness cannot be broken. The return on investment should be given, exactly as it should be, without a cent difference.

In addition to the first round of investment, he plans to make a second round and other investments to share the cake with these relatively loyal families, such as giving chicken farming and fishing to the dignitaries of Caronde Carr. After all, the most important military power has been taken away, and he and Malekith must show that they can’t just swing the stick and beat people to death.

This is shit politics.

If Malekith, who is good at this, can’t even do this well, Asheril’s soybeans will understand, and Daquus will find a millstone to grind them, and directly make a piece of strong and solid tofu for Malekith.

If I’m right, the bodies of these disloyal people have even passed the heat while Daquus is thinking about it.

The original plan was good, but…

No…

During the execution, Morathi played a trick of self-torture and delivered herself to the door. Malekith, who knew about Morathi’s plan, played a trick on her.

The gossip released by Aegilethe was not only for the uninformed disloyal faction, but also for Morathi.

As a mother, Morathi…

It’s hard to say, and it’s hard to say…

Morathi found a bunch of cannon fodder from the Chaos Wasteland for her eldest son.

Just like when Druki launched an attack on Ulthuan in 2300 of the Imperial Calendar, she used various methods to find 300,000 cannon fodder from the Chaos Wasteland. She sent them to Ulthuan through the Black Ark to serve as cannon fodder and share the pressure of Druki’s troops.

Of course, these 300,000 were in 2300 of the Imperial Calendar, not this time. Then, when she was sleeping with a Chaos Lord whose chest was covered by the heart hair, she was awakened by Caledor of the Maelstrom. After being threatened by Caledor, she ran back to Naggaroth from Ulthuan overnight.

The original plan was good, but…

Morath had calculated everything, but she didn’t expect her eldest son to play a trick on her. Her behavior violated the few laws of Naggaroth.

As for the law… those who know it know it. It is useful or useless.

As the Witch King, Malekith held high the banner of the law at the critical moment, but he would not take action against his mother. One reason was that this was not good and unjustifiable, and the other was that he… But there were others. Hellebron, who wanted to tear Morathi apart, had no reason not to come when the Dark Council was convened.

At the end of the world, Chaos invaded Naggaroth in a large-scale southward invasion, and Har Ganthe was about to be surrounded. Even in this situation, Hellebron came to Naggaroth to participate in the Dark Council.

After seeing Morathi being accused, Hellebron would definitely do something, such as attacking Morathi and forcing Morathi out of the Council Hall.

From the beginning to this point, it was a classic “each playing his own game”.

The disloyal faction, the loyal faction, Morathi, Hellebron and Daquus, the major political factions in Naggaroth all have their own demands, and in this storm that is destined to sweep across Naggaroth, various operations are being staged.

At this point, Daquus also entered the stage of helping to rise in the mind map, with many tricks, some are false and some are not, some have video and some do not, some call the police and some settle privately, some have something to do with the elderly and some have nothing to do, etc.

Morathi died in a surprise attack, or was killed directly by Hellebron. This situation will happen, but Daquus thinks the probability is not high.

He has thought about letting Malok stay on the dragon’s spine of other dragons, turning into a dragon at a critical moment, one is like a mountain pressing down on the top, and the other is like a flying dragon.

But Morathi’s spellcasting ability is very strong. It is said that during the Great Sundering, she waved her hand and killed five dragons directly. As for what dragons, what strength and rank are another matter.

This is also the reason why he did not let Malok appear. He calculated that if Malok engaged in melee, there was a high probability that he would be killed by Morathi. And Malok’s size was there, and it was there, so other people couldn’t play. It all depended on Malok’s performance. It was a typical one-shot deal.

After studying it over and over again, there were only three axes, three waves, and a surprise attack after Morathi left the air above the military camp. If it succeeded, it would succeed. If it didn’t, she would have escaped successfully.

Facts have proved that Daquus was right. The arrows of the first wave were okay, but the dragon breath of the second wave fell on the ground and could directly plow a big hole in the military camp, just like when Arthas attacked Silvermoon City. Caledor’s proverb was not a joke.

A novice can cast a fireball by learning fire magic, or make his hands hot, like a branding iron to shake hands with others, and have combat effectiveness.

But shadow magic is different. Shadow magic is very special among the eight winds magic. At the beginning, it can only create a group of useless shadows and fog, just like a magic trick, a useless one. However, although the lower limit of shadow magic is very low, it has a very high upper limit. It can attack when advancing and run when retreating, and it can come and go freely.

The actual performance is the various magical powers performed by Morathi during the raid.

Jump up, swish, after three stages, people are two miles away.

This happened when Morathi did not bring the halberd-like staff. If the halberd was brought into the council hall, it is estimated that she could directly launch a counterattack.

Before she fell to the ground, she jumped out directly. After jumping, she turned the shadow into a nearly real horse and rode the horse towards Gorond.

The raid failed here. During the research, Drusara told Daquus that Morathi had a way to transmit back to the Tower of Prophecy, as long as he was close enough to Gorond. As expected, after chasing for a while, Morathi was gone, the shadow horse was gone, not even a hair, she was home.

Morathi became half of the crash king, success.

Capturing Morathi alive and presenting her to Sotek, once and for all, failure.

Being blackmailed by Morathi… No, being killed by her, did not appear.

Both sides were killed, did not appear.

Morathi successfully escaped, but was worn out before escaping, and the magic items were almost consumed, and appeared.

Now, the second round of mind map begins.

“Understand, and become… become a fart!”

“What?” Maranul asked after hearing Dacus muttering in a low voice.

“Nothing, let’s go back first.” Dacus shook his head, then picked up the arrow and stood up.

Before returning, he jumped on the snow like a shaman, chanting in his mouth.

“Lilith~Lilith? Lilith! Li… Li… Si!” (End of this chapter)