Just being a dark elf in Warhammer

Chapter 282 132. Druchi Diplomacy

"Why did it suddenly light up? And it's not raining yet. When we walked into the fog, it was dark night." Selile looked around in confusion and asked a question that all the male Druchi warriors wanted to ask. .

"Well, that's a very good question! This place is actually... somewhere else, a place that is not a place, just like the threads pulled from a tapestry." Malekith, who was walking at the front, did not look back. Di said, although he did not pretend to be mysterious, the content he said was quite profound.

"Drusala, can you feel the presence of a barrier near here?" Just as the three male Drukhi warriors looked at each other in confusion and didn't know what the Witch King was talking about, Malekith continued.

"My Majesty, this feeling is wonderful, but...it's hard to be sure. The air here is full of power, and a skilled warlock can hide many things under such a shroud." Drusala's eyes have changed since she came in. There was a strange light flashing, as if she was sensing something. After hearing Malekith's words, she shook her head and said in distress.

"Time is a river, remember this." Malekith continued to talk as he walked, his words accompanied by the sound of the soles of the Midnight Armor rubbing against the road, "You still have a long way to go, it must... anchor Just like the Slann Demon Priest must have an anchor when he teleports us, the anchor is either the lizard or the node of the spiritual network. In order to maintain the anchor, the foundation of the tower still touches the physical realm of reality. "

When Malekith explained this, Darkus understood. To put it bluntly, the outer layer is fake, but it is also real. The real thing is inside, but it is not the inside of the tower, but another plane, sandwiched between reality and reality.

Darkus also knew why this place, located on the Isthmus of Lustria and so close to Hesiota, had been forgotten by Master Ma. It felt a bit dark under the lamp.

There is a layer of enchantment in the physical realm that blocks the Slann Demon Priest's perception. Under normal circumstances, the Slann Demon Priest cannot detect the situation here when he is meditating or out of body, unless... the Slann Demon Priest comes in person. , or let the Skink Oracle who has obtained the oracle come, and then the Slann Demon Priest can discover the abnormalities here through the Vision of the Skink Oracle without meditating.

When Darkus thought about this, he suddenly thought of Renn. In a sense, Renn is now an oracle, right? Just no forked tail, no tongue, no ferocious troglodyte that sprays venom. He still doesn't know what Ren's trial goal is? Eliminate this gang of skinners? What to do in Queza? Become a hot-blooded oracle? It couldn't be that he got that strange scimitar that Genevieve told him about, right?

Although the scimitar is a rare item, it can still be copied, but it currently lacks instructions. Darkus has vaguely understood the painful nature of these items left behind by the ancient saints. It is estimated that even if these weapons can be copied, the construction period will be very long, so long that they can only be equipped for generals and other characters, leaving the lizardmen with many hands. Don't think about it at all. This is not just about sleeping, everything is there in the dream, but a problem that cannot be solved even by looking at the shining constellations of the ancient saints for hundreds of years.

The strange thing is that this is the second time that Darkus heard the words "time is a river" today. He suddenly felt that today had been so long, ever since he had that abstract dream.

"Is that tower still there?" Darkus, who stopped thinking in confusion, asked a question that he had been concerned about for a long time.

"I'm not sure, it's been here for thousands of years. If the anchor is destroyed, everything inside will disappear from reality." Maleki replied.

Darkus feels that Malekith is very strange now. He feels like he is trying to be a teacher? It may be due to the acquisition of the Yang Yan Sword that he is in a very strange Schrödinger's cat state. It cannot be described as being uncertain, nor can it be described as being insane. In short, this state is very strange.

From the outside, it looks like a remaining observation post abandoned by the lizardmen, but after entering, it turns into a transformed castle.

In full sunlight, Darkus could see how rough the castle building was, with some of the veneer on the walls and towers peeling off, and the top of the castle becoming jagged. However, the shooting position near the top of the tower seemed to be well-made, and the position was very suitable for firing at the boats near the river beach. He could see the equipment, but he could not see the skinners operating the equipment, nor could he see the piles of stone bullets.

But it doesn't matter, because unfortunately, the joint raid between Druchi and the Lizardmen was not launched on the sea, but on land.

Soon, the group of six encountered their first enemy, a skinner standing at the corner, which was also the only way for them to enter the castle.

"Perhaps we can change the way? You know, I can also engage in diplomacy!" The moment Malekith saw the Skinner, he did not draw out the Yang Yan Sword and slash at him, but said something very strange. Without stopping, he walked straight towards the Skinner.

After seeing Malekith approaching, the Skinner did not draw his weapon or continue to stand where he was. Instead, he faced him. He murmured some words that Dacus couldn't hear clearly, and kept asking questions. With Malekith.

"I can understand your pitiful cries. After all, the fleet you were preparing to sail has now become a wreck. I'm sorry! But if you make empty threats to me again, I will tear you into pieces! I will Let you experience what pain is." Malekith said arrogantly, raising his head.

"What Druchian diplomacy?" Darkus secretly complained. He didn't understand what the Skinner said, but he could understand what Malekith said. At this moment, there was only one emotion in his heart, and that was regret. , he should have called Renn here and let Renn study in depth. After all, his previous positioning of Renne was not that of a painter or a jester, but that of a diplomat. But it seemed that the reality was not what he thought. He had a vague premonition that Renne would become his shadow in the future.

"Can you represent the will of your chief, Skinner? I did not sail thousands of miles just to encounter a pack of lapdogs on shore. As compensation for this disaster, I bring you a generous offer for your master." Malekith continued to look at the Skinner arrogantly and said.

"Tell me what it is and I will decide whether it is worthy of my master's attention," the Skinner continued to chirp.

The Skinner's voice was harsh and hoarse, and the thick hides were roughly sewn onto his broad shoulders, emphasizing his well-developed muscles. On top of the hide, he wore the heavy mail of the Norse Yankees, which hung down to his knees. His skinless hands grasped the handle of a huge double-edged axe. A black wool cloak with a wide hood covered much of his head, hiding it in shadow. As he spoke, Darkus could see the flicker of muscle activity in his jaw, the torn lip pulling back from the fangs.

"Dogs have no place in their master's heart. Take me to see him and your mission will be accomplished." Malekith sneered.

"Do you think I will let you in? Am I a fool? A bunch of filthy and treacherous dark elves, not worthy of licking the shit from my master's feet!"

"Is your leader so afraid of Druch?" Malekith continued to sneer, taking a step forward as he spoke, pointing the tip of the Sun Flame Sword at the Skinner's throat, "Everything about the notoriety Are the famous legends of the Skinned Rider just bedtime stories meant to scare weak human children?”

"You! You bastard, this will be the last mistake you make!" The Skinner roared, trying to raise his axe.

But Malekith glared at the Skinner and held him in place. A tense silence prevailed, and finally the Skinner lowered his axe.

"Follow me!" growled the Skinner.

Darkus was not shocked. Although he was not very good at it, he knew that this was Druchi's general diplomatic mode. It was full of arrogance and coercion, but the magical thing was that it usually worked. The other party seemed to have suddenly contracted the disease. Same as Gomel syndrome.

Then Darkus came to his senses. At first, he thought that after entering this magical realm, he would embark on an epic adventure battle and pass the level all the way. How come he turned into talking MAX to pass the level? Where is the law of heaven? Where is the morality?

The castle is built on the bones of the dead, and the Skinner leads the druchii through a village of empty stone houses within the castle, with walls covered in moss and roofs that rotted into dust many centuries ago.

It looks like a cairn, the outlines of the stones arranged as neatly as a wheelbarrow, left to the ravages of time. As the Drukhi moved through the narrow alleys between buildings, Darkus noticed how still and silent the air was. Not a breath of wind or wild sound broke the funereal silence, and the open doors and empty windows seemed to tug at them as they passed, seducing them with ancient mysteries lurking in the shadows of the abyss. He could even feel the invisible eyes in those destroyed buildings looking at him, as if they were the plain and heartless eyes of restless ghosts.

Passing through the haunted village, a wide, slightly sloping field opens up. Perhaps a long time ago, there was once a dense jungle here, but now only a few dozen ancient tree stumps remain, standing proudly among the grass and low shrubs. A path crossed the cleared fields and branched ahead.

The path on the left zigzags up the winding hillside to the castle, while the path on the right leads to a wooden fence at the base of the cliff, followed by a wooden gate. Vines covered the fence logs, and green moss grew from the gaps between them.

What makes Darkus confused is why there is such a place in the Lustria continent. When was it formed? How long has it been around?

The climb was a long and difficult one, the path steep and narrow and the Skinners marched relentlessly. About midway through their journey, the druchi began to encounter tall fissures, usually in groups of two or three, emitting thick smoke or putrid mist.

Several times, Darkus heard a sharp rumble, like the hiss of hot springs echoing through the rocks.

As time passed, Darkus tried to distract himself by looking out at the still-fighting riverbank and the jungles of Lustria. He saw more abandoned buildings, broken monuments, and even rotting ships, all eroded by time.

Darkus tried to figure out how much time had passed since they had passed through the barrier and entered here. Has it been an hour? An hour and a half? The pocket watch on his belt had lost its function in the morning. He could not be sure. He felt that he was blinded by the mists of time.

Soon, the Druchi reached the top of the cliff and entered an arched alcove that ended with a shaky stone staircase. They could feel the overwhelming pressure of the castle hanging above them, a heap of shabby stone built by sick, skinless hands and stained with blood and bone.

The air was filled with a strong smell of rotting blood, and Darkus could see crumbling rust-colored carvings attached to smooth masonry bricks that might be tens of thousands of years old. He carefully traced the surface of a brick with his fingers and felt a force flowing through his fingertips. There was a familiar feeling lingering in his mind that he couldn't place. However, before he can wonder further, the stone staircase turns to the left, leading him into a completely insane situation.

The stone staircase might have led to the base of the castle, or so Darkus suspected, for there were no walls visible from where he stood.

The air became thick and moist, filled with a pale green light that filtered in through narrow seamed leather curtains that hung from somewhere high above. Blood and bile flowed across the glistening surface of unknown skin, and the pulsing blood caught his attention. After a moment, he closed his stinging eyes, but he still couldn't get rid of the feeling of this sick liquid flow. Maybe if he opened his eyes and looked, he would gain new knowledge and fall into the embrace of greatness and kindness? This also seems to be an unimagined path.

Swarms of green and black flies hung in the air like smoke, filling the space with a piercing buzz that contrasted sharply with the shrill screams echoing from above. Blood droplets splashed down from above, sprinkling on the helmets and shoulder armor of the Drukhi, turning into a warm and bitter rain. Fortunately, Drusala immediately cast a spell like a rain-proof spell on the male Druchi warrior, which separated the blood and water droplets.

The interior of the castle is divided into small spaces and narrow alleys by curtains of skin, and the entire structure is like an empty shell, insulated by a carpet of torture and disease. The flaps of skin swayed in the breeze, as if eager to touch the Druki who followed the Skinner through the stinking maze.

After taking a look at the steps in front of him, Darkus turned his head behind him. Drusala, who was closest behind him, followed by his best friend Franais and his uncle Selile, but Baine. He was walking behind Franais and Selire, keeping watch. He noticed that the trio of Adreze believers looked casual, but in fact they were very nervous.

"Do you know how long it has been since we entered here?" Darkus looked at Drusala who was looking at him and whispered.

"I can't say for sure, but I feel like time here seems to have been frozen." Drusala shook her head and whispered.

"Despair, stagnation, death and decay, chaos is everywhere, except for a few happy Nurglings running around here." Darkus nodded, shook his head again, and turned his head Wandering around, trying to keep his bearings in the maze of decaying chaos and thinking to himself, this was how he had seen so much and was so resistant, but he was also going to be driven crazy by the stench. Drucki next to him is also a Qijie, with a strong will, otherwise he would probably go crazy and jump off.

The druchi walked for a long time along the green, fleshy corridor, with no apparent rhythm or direction, and they kept going around and around.

The disgusting water droplets on the ceiling were still falling. Although the water droplets would not fall on the body, the smell could not be shielded. Franais vomited violently, and Darkus rushed to hold him before he fell. He quickly leaned on the ground with the God's Halberd. After adjusting his posture, he smiled bitterly at Darkus who looked at him with concern and shook his head.

Soon the procession moved on in silence. As bad as the situation was, Darkus had a feeling it was going to get worse.

Eventually the procession stopped and gathered at the top of another curved staircase. The stairs descended, along the rough walls of a circular shaft sunken into the cliff. Like those misty pillars within, the walls outside the cliff rise from the depths, filling the tower with the stench of decay. Darkus heard a clicking sound above him as black bricks shone in the green light and fell down the shaft, as if the bricks were bouncing from one wall to the other like living bodies.

"Our master awaits you, Druch. Enter this temple, offer your gift, and gain his favor and power."

A skinner was waiting there, his bare chin and white teeth shining strangely in the light. He pointed behind him with his clawed fingers. His nails were long and sharp, as if they were made for cutting flesh. . Those eyes were full of wild light, as if hiding endless darkness. His voice was harsh and shrill, almost like a scream.

Malekith gave the Skinner a flat look, then began to descend, moving quickly and purposefully along the dripping stairs, Darkus following behind Malekith without hesitation.

Black masonry continued to fall steadily from the top of the crumbling tower, sometimes missing the rock wall and sprinkling dust on Druch.

As the Drukki continued their march, the air seemed to grow thicker and thicker, so much so that Darkus felt as if the tendrils of mist had taken on a life of their own. Hovering over his head, stroking his eyelashes with ghostly, sticky fingers, tugging at his lips, even reaching into his throat. He could feel his heart burning with rage in his chest. Whenever he felt the fog in his lungs seem to thicken, he felt his heart expand, dispersing the fog and pushing it away from his body.

"I can't breathe!"