Just being a dark elf in Warhammer - Chapter 835

c776 $627 A Sober Madman

Hal Ganthi was founded after the Sundering by the Dread Lords who had fought in the Battle of the Blighted Isles. It was one of the northernmost settlements of the Duruchi in Naggaroth, and was built because the Dread Lords feared that their failure would lead to terrible revenge from Malekith.

Then…

A Dread Lord named Selwyn built a castle when the settlement was first established, and a few years after the building was completed, he decided to add a lower level wine cellar.

As a result, when the workers dug down, they dug out a road… a bit like Darkest Dungeon.

The paving stones that existed long before the workers arrived resisted all attempts to remove them, including magic, so Sel ordered the workers to move along the road to see how far they could go, and just like that, the workers came to the gate.

It was no longer a bit, it was another replica of Darkest Dungeon.

As the workers observed the archway, a demonic wind rushed out of the gate and killed them instantly.

The Red Gate, no one knows who built it or why it was built, but there is no doubt that it is immeasurable.

When Blackblade first learned the news, he was shocked: Cain was an elven god, how could the gate be built in this desolate land before the loss of Nagareth?

Selwyn believed that the gate was set up to await our arrival, and it was a gift from Cain to Cain, so he told the priests of Cain’s sect about his discovery. When the priests from Naggaroth saw the gate for the first time, they knew that from that moment on, the hill stretched forward, and everything on the hill must belong to Cain.

Soon after, Malekith handed Har Ganthi to the Cain sect.

From then on, this newly established settlement fell into madness.

Gradually, Har Ganthi became the religious center of Cain’s faith, with a large number of shrines dedicated to the Lord of Slaughter, and was governed by a magnificent temple in the shape of a tower. Here, countless sacrifices were pulled up to the altar and sacrificed to Cain. After a great victory over Asur, Har Ganthi’s soldiers pulled hundreds of prisoners to the top of the temple and then beheaded them one by one in a pious ceremony.

As the bloody heads rolled down the steps, the dark elves who were watching were extremely excited. From that day on, execution became an important entertainment project in Har Gansi society, and beheading became the way to deal with all prisoners.

Each executioner would carry a single crisp knife, which was a ceremonial knife and was made by the executioner himself under the supervision of the caster of the Temple of Khaine. When the executioner learned the skills of killing, his knife was also forged, and the knife and the man became one. Some executioners prefer heavier axe-shaped knives, while others prefer rapiers, depending on their own skills and preferred killing methods. Although they are different in design, these weapons are all great killers on the battlefield. With just a strong swing, breaking armor and breaking bones is not a problem.

Thus, the famous Har Gansi executioner appeared.

Since its appearance, the gates of Har Gansi have never been closed, because the city of executioners craves flesh and blood. This is the city of Cain, the seat of the temple’s secular power. There are only three kinds of people in the city: servants of the temple, guests of the temple, and sacrifices of Cain.

Whether it is day or night, if the Duruchi is not blessed, once discovered, there is only one end, as a sacrifice to the Lord of Murder. After all, the Duruchi in this city are keen on devoting themselves to the God of Blood Hands.

Therefore, every stranger entering the city must immediately report to the temple and accept the blessing of the witch spirit, otherwise he will die, just like a pass. On the way to the temple, it is best to pray to Cain not to run into anyone.

It’s dark… no need to close your eyes.

The Cain sect has moved from version 2.5 to version 3.0.

Of course, Daquus has never been to Har Gansi, but he has a glimpse of the leopard.

The Cain Temple in Nagarond stands in the twilight like the entrance to Hades, and its huge square seems to be able to devour the souls of all those who enter. In the center of the square, a group of three-meter-and-a-half-high iron stakes are arranged with a weird precision to form a perfect octagon. The road leading to the temple passes through the center of the octagon, like a sacrificial passage, leading all hopes and fears to the dark end.

Each iron stake pierces piles of corpses, black, withered bodies piled up layer by layer. The corpses were deformed and entangled with each other, their hands and feet were roughly tied together, and the twisting and breaking of the limbs silently told the long torture the corpses had experienced before death.

Dacus looked for a moment as he walked. He couldn’t see which corpse was an independent individual. The corpses had merged into one, becoming a dark sacrifice that transcended the individual. Pale mold grew on the corpses, like a web woven by the god of death, emitting a faint glow, adding a touch of weird beauty to this horrible scene.

The air was filled with the smell of rot and blood, and the disgusting smell seemed to penetrate his skin and reach deep into his bones. The fresher corpses still had blood on them, and the blood trickled down the iron stakes, dripping into the pool of blood that had already solidified, dyeing the ground a deep black-red.

Occasionally, when the wind blew, the newly dead bodies hanging on the iron stakes would sway slightly, as if performing the last dance of despair on the stage of death.

What is even more chilling is that not far away, another fresh corpse was slowly hung on the iron stake. Two witches howled and dragged a body that was still warm to the side of the stake with joy, hooked the shoulder blade and thigh of the body with iron hooks, and lifted it up and hung it. The sound of the metal hook piercing the flesh and bones, and the dripping sound of blood dripping on the iron stake, were intertwined, like the mourning music from Hades.

Morathi ran away, but her followers were not so lucky…

In the center of the square, there lay the body of a man, his pale face as white as paper was smeared with black blood, which was even more shocking. His hands were still tightly holding the hilt of the sword, and he refused to let go of the weapon in his hand even if his life passed away.

He was wearing the clothes he wore when he died, which was a simple black robe, but the robe was no longer pure. A deep wound from the shoulder to the hip penetrated his body, and blood soaked through the clothes like a spring, dyeing the black robe into a dazzling dark red.

Around the corpse, three witches danced slowly. Their dancing postures were strange but with a kind of primitive temptation. Their thick white hair was like a fluttering flag, swaying in the wind, as if echoing some mysterious power.

Each witch wore a black pointed headdress, and the dark edges set off their naked and smooth bodies. Their curves were like carved works of art, shining with a cold temptation in the disappearing sunlight. Sweat slid down their well-built arms, and their white throats and plump chests reflected a faint cold light, as if they were not mortals, but projections of some ancient existence.

Their eyes were as deep as a pool of shadows, deep and disturbing, and seemed to hide secrets that could not be pried into. Their lips were slightly opened, and they whispered ancient and powerful spells. Those sounds seemed to vibrate in the air, surging around like a tide, making people feel a slight tremor on their skin. Their slender fingers were covered with black nails, like dark weapons, each of which exuded a cold threat.

As Dacus approached, their whispers gradually became sharper, echoing in the air of the square, as if it was not just language, but a chill and fanaticism directly injected into people’s bones.

The Temple of Cain was surrounded by roaring braziers, each of which burned with dark red flames, emitting a strong aroma and a scorched smell. The rising smoke sometimes looked vague and illusory under the light of the fire, and sometimes looked hideous like a demon shadow, like a twisted ghost, shrouding the entire temple in an oppressive atmosphere.

There were deep arched niches between each brazier, filled with gilded skulls, which exuded a strange luster in the dim light, as if each skull carried the resentment of the dead.

Some more simple spoils were randomly piled in the deep pit at the far end of the temple, as if they were deliberately forgotten, but adding a bit of silent cruelty and indifference. The deep pit was dark and deep, as if it led directly to the land of Hades, attracting people’s eyes firmly, but making people dare not look at it more.

Above the marble platform in the center of the temple, a layer of reddish steam slowly floated, spreading like mist, reflecting a hazy blood-red halo.

The steam came from a huge crucible in the center of the platform that was knee-deep. The crucible was made of brass and covered with ancient and evil runes. An ominous liquid was bubbling in the crucible, and the color of the liquid kept changing between blood red and black. It made a sharp and piercing hissing sound when bubbling. Occasionally, a few streams of liquid splashed out like a gushing venomous snake, emitting a suffocating stench in the air.

The entire temple was filled with an invisible evil force, and every stone was permeated with an ancient and violent will to kill. This is not only a place of sacrifice, but also a field where life and death meet, and despair and ecstasy collide. Everything was whispering and humming, telling Cain’s desire for blood and soul.

Fortunately, Daquus was used to big scenes and could collapse, and Annasara beside him was even more accustomed to it.

On the high platform in the distance, a figure was elegant and cruel. A long crimson silk belt was wrapped around her slender waist, soft but as if stained with the weight of blood. A dress made of golden skulls and curtains surrounded her soft and deadly hips, shining with a fascinating light.

Her upper body was naked, and her skin was covered with sticky blood, telling Cain’s oracle with every breath. Her long arms were elegant and slender, her fingers were as flexible as spiders, but they were soaked in blood, and every inch was stained with the mark of death.

Her slender throat was surrounded by a string of golden skull necklaces, and the golden light and blood color intertwined to create a suffocating gorgeousness. The golden rings inlaid with rubies on each wrist flashed a bewitching light, like a burning flame, symbolizing destruction and violence.

Under the angular headdress she wore, her oval face was indifferent and peaceful, like a perfect statue given life by the Blood God himself. That face was breathtakingly beautiful, but at the same time, like the smile of the Blood God, seductive and deadly.

The air was filled with a sense of oppression, a supernatural force that made the air tremble and twist.

Darkius stood not far away, and everything in front of him made his chest ache. His heart seemed to be clenched by an invisible hand, and his blood was as hot as hot magma. A tear silently slid down his cheek, like a repressed emotion with nowhere to go, and could only turn into this short-term catharsis. The tear slid to the corner of his mouth, and he felt the salty taste, the taste of blood!

As the figure slowly approached, Darkius felt a bone-chilling chill rising from the bottom of his heart. The figure’s eyes met his, and at that moment, time stopped.

Those were the eyes of death, cold and ruthless, so deep that people could indulge in them, like an endless abyss.

Dacus clearly felt her desire, which was a pure and cold killing intent, as if the cold breath was brushing across his skin, stripping him naked.

But he didn’t have her eyes entangled like a chain, making him unable to move. His soul was not attracted by a twisted gravity, and he didn’t give up struggling, and he threw himself directly into the temptation of the figure’s arms, which was sweet but deadly.

He knew clearly that if the figure approached, he would die, because the figure’s eyes had told him everything.

This was the second time Dacus saw Helleben.

“Little boy, you do look like him, but you are not, not!” After looking at him for a while, Helleben said coldly, with a hint of disdain in her tone, but also faintly revealing complex emotions.

“A gift for you.”

Darkius ignored Helleben’s opening remarks. He knew who “he” was, but he was not interested in this topic. Did he really expect Helleben to call him “Dad” when she was sober?

Then, he played the whole script of Alandrian and gave Helleben two big slaps? The problem is that Alandrian has never played such a role, and this script is wrong.

Or, tell Helleben how Alandrian died? The problem is that Helleben doesn’t care.

He and Helleben are relatives, but he really doesn’t know how to address them. This kind of kinship gives him a headache. So he simply said nothing and took out the gift he had prepared long ago.

“What is this?” Helleben took the gift and looked at it carefully with her head down. The exquisite box looked abrupt in her bloodstained hands, but it also had a strange harmony. After a moment, her eyes showed a trace of contemplation and nostalgia, and her tone softened: “Where did you get it?”

“Eso Talarian, I went to Elsing Arwen not long ago to do something, and brought it back.” Dacus’ tone was light, as if he was talking about something insignificant.

“Why did you go there when you are not the chief magistrate?” Helleben looked up at Dacus, and her expression changed from doubt to a complex emotion, mixed with blame and a little imperceptible concern.

“Someone has to deal with some old things, not to mention…” Although the tone was a bit harsh, Dacus could feel the weak but real concern in it. He smiled and did not answer directly, but shrugged lightly. Then, he paused, his eyes locked on Helleben’s face, “There are some things there, worth my trip.”

Helleben looked down at the gift in her hand, her fingertips gently stroking the pattern on the lid, and was silent for a moment. Then, she smiled faintly, although not obvious, but in Daxus’ eyes, it was enough to show that her heart was not without ripples.

Before landing in Elsin Alvin, Daxus stopped for a while in Aesop Talarian. (Chapter 235)

Genevieve, who climbed onto the ship, handed him a ruby ​​pendant that was obviously very old. At that time, he felt that this pendant with a gold chain was unusual. Colonia also confirmed his guess from the side. According to the decorative style, it should be a unique product of the colony before the Great Split. Then, he put away this ordinary pendant without any magical reaction, and prepared to give it to his relatives in Har Gansi when he returned to Naggaroth.

The result…

“This is Lyris’s pendant.”

“?”

Darkius was stunned. This world is big, but there are many coincidences. The cylinder that Ryan got from gambling in Middenheim put him in touch with the red dragon, and the pendant that Genevieve found happened to be Lyris’s.

“For a while, Liris and I were imprisoned separately by our father.” Helleben’s eyes gradually dimmed, as if she had penetrated time and looked into the distant past. “I was imprisoned in the manor in the south, and she was imprisoned on the cliff in the north. The cliff was huge, and it was hit by the waves all day long, and the sound of the waves was deafening. I gave her the pendant, and she…” She paused, lowered her eyes, and tried to suppress some emotions, “She threw it into the sea in torture.”

Darkius looked at Helleben, his lips moved, but he didn’t know what to say.

“So, little bastard, tell me. Why did you look for me?” Helleben suddenly raised her head, her eyes returned to her usual coldness, and her tone was a little scrutinizing.

“I need your help with something!”

Helleben’s eyes changed slightly, obviously not surprised, but she didn’t respond immediately. She looked at Darkius for a moment, with some tentative and inexplicable emotions in her eyes.

“Grond!”

“Did Malekith agree?” Hearing this word, Helleben raised her eyebrows, and a disdainful smile appeared at the corner of her mouth. She laughed twice, and there was a cold sarcasm in her laughter, as if the name of Grond itself was a ridiculous joke. She asked slowly, her tone full of ridicule and disdain, as if she was mocking a stupid decision.

“Yes, he agreed.”

“Heh.” Helleben’s laughter became colder and colder. She fiddled with the ruby ​​pendant in her hand, as if the pendant was just an insignificant toy. Her eyes were like a sharp sword, piercing through Dacus and reaching the invisible distance behind Dacus. After a moment, her eyes fell back on Dacus again, and a sarcastic arc appeared at the corner of her mouth. The playful smile was as sharp as a blade.

“It’s really strange. Let me guess, it was you who persuaded him, right? Little boy, did you describe some grand future for him? Or maybe you weaved some beautiful fantasy that just touched his twisted heart. Heart? Otherwise, I don’t believe that Oedipus… would agree to such a thing.”

Helene’s last few words were spoken extremely slowly, each word dripping with malice.

Darkus was silent for a moment. He did not argue, but looked back at Heliben calmly, his expression as calm and composed as ever.

“Gronde… made a mistake a thousand years ago, and now he wants to make up for it in this way? Childish!” Heliben shook his head slowly, the ridicule in his eyes did not fade at all, and there was even a hint of hatred. Her tone suddenly became cold, with some long-repressed anger and dissatisfaction.

“Malekis, he still hasn’t changed! The coward before, the coward now. He never wants to admit his cowardice, but always does what a coward would do! Always deceiving himself and others, always… trying to use Those useless tricks to cover up his failure. He holds the scepter, but he can’t even figure out who his enemy is! Or…”

Heliben’s eyes were locked on Darkus again, and his tone was low and dangerous.

“You think I made a mistake? Malekith and his mother are a perfect match, a coward who dares not admit himself, and a poisonous snake who lives in his own lies!”

“You can choose not to participate.”

“Don’t participate? Darkus, I really don’t know if you are ignorant or just pretending to be stupid. Don’t you understand yet? Or…didn’t you tell him?” Heliben stared at Darkus, his eyes as cold as blades. , then looked at Anasara, who had been silent, with a sarcastic smile on his lips, “Not participating means waiting for death, at least for you, that’s the case. If that bitch regains a foothold in Grond , do you think you still have a chance to stand here and talk to me? ”

“You know my purpose. Morathi must die! And I need your help to make sure of it.”

“The bitch’s death? This is an attractive topic. But why do you think I will help you?” Heliben raised his eyebrows slightly, with a trace of ridicule in his eyes.

“Because you and I both know that she is a threat. As you said, she never hides her desires, coiling among us like a poisonous snake, waiting for opportunities. Her existence is a hidden danger to you, as long as She is alive…”

“You know her very well… You are right. I will not deny that her living is indeed a threat to me. But if I want to help you, I have a condition.”

Darkus nodded.

“There is anyone in this world who hates Morathi more than me. That is a joke. Grond, I will come! But, it is for Morathi! Her life must be taken by me myself!” Heliben His tone was cold and firm, and his eyes held an almost cruel expectation.

“Okay, Morathi is yours!” Darkus stared at Helliben for a moment, then nodded slowly.

“It’s better for you.”

“Morathi must die. This is my only position. As for how she dies or whose hands she falls into, I don’t care.” Darkus’ tone was calm, but revealed unquestionable determination.

“Very good, then let’s cooperate for once.” Heliben’s voice cut through the air like ice, carrying endless anger and determination.

After the cooperation was reached, Darkus had no intention of staying in the Temple of Cain. He and Heliben had nothing to talk about. Should they sit together and have a meal like a family? Tell us about your experience in Ersin Alvin? While eating, watching those religious lunatics kill people? He can’t do it, he’s not that good at playing yet.

“Are you ready?” After she was far away from the Kane Temple, Anasara glanced at Darkus, her eyes flashing with calm exploration.

“Yes, not only Morathi, but also our relatives must die!” Darkus stared at the corpse dragged by the wizard in the distance, his eyes as cold as ice.

“We, the Cain sect, Morathi, and the Chaos forces entrenched in Grond, it is really an interesting situation… My dear Darkus, you can always bring me surprises.” Anasara said softly He smiled, with a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“No, no, no, my dear clan mother.” Like a son who is attached to his mother, Darkus took Anasara’s arm and whispered in Anasara’s ear, “If possible, there is also Something else…but I’m not sure right now.”

Anasara slowly turned her head and glanced at Darkus, her eyes deep and meaningful.

“I’m looking forward to it even more.” (End of chapter)