Just being a dark elf in Warhammer

Chapter 398 249. March to Lauren Loren

Two Skaven hid at the bottom of the ravine, broken branches arrayed above their heads for camouflage. Husk's horrific zombies litter the ravine floor, as silent as the first time Nashrik saw them in the Necromancer's lair.

Before the gully opened, there was the entrance to a small valley, with a rocky slope covered with gorse and shrubs, from which huge gray rocks jutted far away. Apart from a few vultures circling overhead, attracted by the stench of zombie carrion, there was only a trace of life left on the edge of the valley.

Nashlik stroked his beard proudly and looked at the poor little traitor in the distance. His apprentice Virgil is currently tied to a wooden frame with his limbs and an iron drill bit stuffed in his mouth. He can neither move nor scream. He is just helpless and vulnerable waiting for death, as if he will attract hungry predators. prey.

After making his choice, Nashrick acted quickly, and in the dead of night, Virgil was captured by Husker's ghost and dragged into the terrifying laboratory. Whenever he thought about what happened to Virgil, he became extremely excited.

Vergil, who had no idea what was going on and just wanted to serve his good mentor and learn some useful magic, had his hair shaved off, and strange arcane runes were copied from moldy old scrolls and engraved on every inch of his skin. Finally, half-dead, he was immersed in a pot of foul-smelling sludge and left to soak all night, the smell seeping into his flesh.

Poor Virgil is now waiting for his final moments, where he will serve as bait to lure the monsters out of the valley.

This monster would play an important role in Husker's plans, and he only revealed a small part of his plans to the Gray Mage to pique the Gray Seer's interest.

Of course, Nashrik still showed extreme fear of invading the forest where the elves were, and Husker could also express his understanding. When he was not Husker, even the clan would not enter the elven forest when it was facing the worst famine. . But now, he must enter the forest, not to fill his belly, but to fill his mind and cleanse his spirit with the magical power bound to the golden pool.

All the power Husker wanted was in a pool of gold, and he learned as much from the skull of Nahak beneath his neck. Unlimited power and unstoppable! All he has to do is reach the golden pool and extract the power.

Husker learned a lot about Lauren Loren from the ghosts he collected with their skulls tied to them. He had mastered the tricks and traps the forest used to deal with intruders. He learned that the elves would use many weapons to deal with any intrusion. Lauren loren border people.

More importantly, he learned the runes and spells that would allow him to fight the forest illusions. He learned about the forest spirits, some terrible spirits in the forest who despised the elves and regarded them as a plague and an intrusion. By attracting the spirit, by exploiting the spirit's hatred of the elves, he will be able to escape the worst illusions in the forest.

More than once, the Gray Seers urged Husker to postpone the attack, insisting that they could succeed only in winter, when the spirits of the forest were at their weakest. He sneered at such suggestions, which only betrayed the Gray Seers' ignorance. Only at a moment can the power in the golden pool be released. Only at a moment can the Deha energy be stronger than the magic of the elves and the forest. Postponement will not bring victory, it will only bring disaster. Only by taking action now can there be hope of victory!

Horrible screams from the cliff interrupted Husker's thinking. He reached his paws into his belt, took off a pair of strangely colored lenses, and put them on the mouse's face. After everything was in place, he looked out from the edge of the ravine and saw a bloody corpse rolling down into the valley, followed closely by the second and third ones. He ignored the falling speed of the corpse and the fact that it fell on the rocks. The level of violence was high, and he raised his gaze higher to look at the monster flying around on the cliff.

While the monster was flapping its wings, it was also striking the rock with its huge claws. Apparently several of the warlord's spies had gotten into the gaps that the monster's claws could not reach. As Hasker expected, the warlord indeed sent a spy. He now hoped that the spy could still maintain enough sanity or could close his eyes.

"Is this... is this a killing beast?" Nashrik blinked behind his tinted lenses and asked curiously.

"Yes, yes! We named it the Death Watch. In human terms, it is a Cockatrice." Hasker hissed excitedly.

The cockatrice suddenly let out a shrill and eerie cackle and circled away from the cliff. Either it grew tired of trying to reach the Skaven in the crevice, or it was content with the Skaven being turned to stone. Whatever its motives, it began flying across the valley, as it stared at the land below. At this time, its head shook violently from side to side.

Perhaps the cockatrice was looking for the fallen Skaven, or perhaps it was just looking for prey. It suddenly turned around and let out another sharp cackle in its throat. It caught the scent of Vergil in the updraft. . It stared down at the bound Vergil, then folded its powerful wings at its sides, let out a weird scream, and then pounced straight at Vergil.

Virgil struggled against his bonds, struggling wildly against them, his muffled screams rising from behind the iron drill in his mouth.

The Cockatrice landed a few meters away from Virgil. It took on a terrifying appearance, a huge bird with dark brown feathers covered with black whorls, spots and scratches. It has a bright red scruff around its throat, and the top of its neck is wrinkled and its skin is an ugly pink. A black crest grows from the top of its head, extending downward into a sharp vulture beak and huge owl eyes. The monster folded its leathery, bat-like wings at its sides and walked towards the bound Skaven, its huge claws on its feet leaping under its powerful thighs, gripping the rocky ground. .

"Try not to look directly into its eyes. The glasses may not be strong enough to prevent direct gaze." Hasker turned his head and warned Nashrick.

Nashrik nodded, trying to control his trembling body, and then he blocked his left eye with his claws, as if half of his sight was blocked, and the intensity of the Cockatrice's gaze would be halved...

Hasker looked at Nashrik with confusion. At this moment, he even became suspicious, but as the cockatrice hissed, his attention was diverted.

The cockatrice continued to approach the bait, tilting its head to one side and then the other, staring at the bound Skaven in confusion. It's not stupid, but it's confused at the moment, and it can't decide which feeling to trust. Its eyes told it that there was only one poor little prey, but its nose told it that there was another one of its kind. The silt seeping into Vigil's shaved skin mimicked the scent of his own kind, stimulating his instincts that an intruder had invaded his territory.

Eventually, the cockatrice decided to trust its keen sense of smell, and the spiky feathers around its throat fanned out with malevolence. Clawed feet clawed at the ground in preparation for an attack, leathery wings beating angrily at its sides.

The threatening display continued for several minutes, and a low hiss escaped from the cockatrice's wrinkled throat. Sometimes it would pause, tilting its head in confusion, waiting for some sort of reaction from Virgil, and when the bound Skaven could neither escape nor attack, it would resume its ferocious display.

Finally, the cockatrice's patience wore thin, and with a loud cackle it lunged at Vigil, lashing out with its claws. Black blood gushed out from Vigil's torn wound, and Vigil screamed in pain, the sound coming from behind the iron drill in his mouth. However, it did not relax its attack. It struck Vigil with its wings and smashed the wooden frame to the ground.

The poor Gray Seer's apprentice tumbled among the rocks, his bones broken along with the posts to which he was bound.

The cockatrice decided that Vigil was not another of its kind, and stared viciously at the torn Skaven with its owl-like eyes for a moment. Then its beak tore into Virgil's body, tearing a large piece of flesh from Virgil's broken bones. It tilted its head back and swallowed the bloody meat in one mouthful, then bent down to eat more meat.

Husker watched the cockatrice fall into his trap, chirping viciously. The beast not only eats Vigil's body, but also the spells etched into Vigil's skin. His plan was correct. Since the Cockatrice is immune to its own power, just like it cannot petrify itself by looking in the mirror, the Cockatrice will not cast Petrify on its own kind when it encounters the same kind, so the spell on Vergil's skin does not been destroyed.

"Did the plan succeed?" Nashrik asked while still covering his eyes with his paw and staring at the cockatrice with his other eye.

"Just keep an eye on it." Hasker said lightly and then waved his paws, stumbled up from the ravine as a rat zombie with a rotting body.

The rat zombie stares blindly at its master, its eyes sewn shut to protect it from the cockatrice's gaze.

Husker has a certain fondness for this rat-man zombie. After all, this is the first undead creature he created. There is a connection between the necromancer and the zombies, a connection that makes this rat-man zombie more capable than other zombies, capable of executing complex commands and even showing rare initiative. Both qualities are useful to the Necromancer, who is rarely willing to put Skaven zombies in any danger. Of course, if the plan didn't work, he could also try to resurrect the cockatrice to eat what was left.

As Husker's paw pointed at the cockatrice, the rat zombie shook his head and crawled over the edge of the ravine.

The cockatrice stood up after finishing its meal. Its beak was dripping with blood, its jagged chin was hung with threads of meat, and its owl-like eyes stared at the approaching rat-man zombies.

Husker and Nashrik watched intently while holding their breath. They wanted to determine whether the spell was successful. If the spell failed, the Cockatrice would still be an uncontrollable beast.

The rat zombie continued to shuffle toward the cockatrice, its claws clumsily removing the burden strapped to its back. Its rotten fingers groped for the tattered leather cover, finally unfolding it like a curtain.

The cockatrice continued to stare at the rat zombie, but did not make any attack movement. It seemed to be fascinated by the slow and stumbling movements of the rat zombie. Even if the rat zombie stood only half a meter away from it and put a heavy leather cover over its head, it remained docile. The Rat-Zombie pulls on the drawstring that hangs from the leather hood, pulling it taut, hiding its cruel beak and deadly eyes behind a shapeless leather mask.

It wasn't until they successfully subdued the Cockatrice that Hasker and Nashlik emerged from the ravine. The Gray Seer tugged at his beard and chuckled, seeing how easily the monsters fell into their trap.

The binding spell Hasker carved into Vigil's skin suffocated the cockatrice's soul, forcing the cockatrice to succumb to the will of its new master. He ignored Nashrik who suddenly giggled, let alone the Cockatrice who was already under control. When he was sure that the matter was under his control, he eliminated it from his mind. His claws gripped Nahak's skull and he turned around, looking at the landscape below. He could see vast green forests and blue ribbons of rivers.

Within that formidable forest lie pools of gold and the almost limitless power that drew Nahak here from the desert wastes of Nehekhara. Now, that power is once again within reach. This time, the forest will not resist the darkness.

"Take away the Death Watch," Husker growled at the other Skaven zombies lurking in the gully.

Skaven zombies and skeletons crawled out from under their disguises, gathered on the cockatrice, and tied a rope around the cockatrice's neck. The huge monster obediently followed the zombies away, its ferocity restrained under the hood and spells.

"Yes, yes! No elves can fight against us now!" Nashrik chirped, and then glanced at Hasker slyly.

Hasker didn't need to read Nashrik's mind to know what plan was seeping into that twisted mind. He knew that given enough time, Nashrik would likely wrest control of the Cockatrice from him, and he was annoyed by the transparency of Nashrik's plot. There is an easy way to thwart the Gray Seer's plans if he attacks early. He doesn't attack in the dead of night, but at dusk.

As that moment approaches, Husker can already feel his strength growing. As day turns to night, his magic only grows stronger. Although an earlier attack would increase the casualties of the army, it would be inconsequential compared to the power he would wrest from the golden pool.

As the sun begins to sink below the horizon and night falls over the land, an army of Skaven emerge from their caves in the foothills and begin their march towards Lauren Loren. Thousands of chirping Skaven formed an army armed with spears and swords. Teams of weapons experts from the Skryre clan moved quickly through the heart of the army, their horrific instruments of death at the ready.

At the head of the army are Husker's warriors, skeletons summoned from the catacombs. These fleshless monsters marched silently into the forest, only the crunch of rusted armor against bleached bone emanating from their ranks, each skeletal warrior clutching a corroded blade in its talons, hollow eye sockets gleaming There was a strange green light, and the deeper we walked into the woods, the stronger the green light became.

Although the undead leading the way allayed the fears of the other living Skaven, Husker could still smell the musky stench of fear emanating from them, and the Skaven still preferred to abandon the dangerous expedition entirely. He had anticipated this cowardice and was prepared for it. A second, larger army of undead followed the living Skaven, cutting off any hope of retreat.

Of course, the Skaven can try to escape, but the zombies and skeletons behind them will show no mercy to them. Despite the trouble of resurrecting those living creatures that the undead have been forced to kill, this band of Skaven will serve Husker's cause in life or death.

Huskar also placed himself at the center of the army, surrounded by his guards, the hooded cockatrice being led like a free-range chicken. When the elves inevitably challenge the invaders of the forest, he will get close to the fight, but not so close that he himself gets drawn into the fray. His role is to guide the army forward and support the warriors on the front line with magic, not to dodge the elves' arrows.

The same strategy was adopted by the Gray Seer Nashrik and Warlord Vermit, both Skaven surrounded themselves with a swarm of armored Stormvermin and stayed away from the front and flanks of the army, which they were not keen on becoming. The first batch of Skaven challenged by the elves, if they really want to fight, they will first see which side has the upper hand, and then take action.

No Skaven would think twice about abandoning his comrades, although the threat of the Husk undead may force them to engage in more fighting than planned.

Husker gritted his teeth and thought about the short-sighted and cowardly behavior of his compatriots. Those fools had no idea of ​​the power he was about to possess! This power will make him more powerful than Lord Gray Seer! Those fools would fear his wrath more than any elf if they understood! He placed his claws on Nahak's skull and felt the lich's evil spirit wrap itself around his mind, infusing his body with its horrific energy.

Thanks to Nahak's heightened malice and Hask's own magic, his power will become even more powerful, even powerful enough to negate the magic of the forest! An evil smile appeared on his face, as long as he could reach the golden pool, it was enough. By then, no one can stop him!

A scream of terror announced the first attack.

Although he hid in the safest possible location, Nashrik insisted on scattering living scouts among Husker's undead army, believing that thoughtful minds could alert the army to danger faster than the mindless monsters of the necromancer. It turned out that the Gray Prophet's advice was correct, and the rat scouts let out a noisy scream, warning their comrades with death.

The leading troops had entered a winding path with towering pine trees on both sides and the ground covered with thorns. The undead moved nonchalantly through the thorn bushes, their fleshless bones immune to the stinging thorns.

However, the rat scouts hesitated and tried to chop off the thorns. When arrows came from nowhere, the rat scouts who were still chopping the thorns were stunned.

From the moment the Skaven set foot in Lauren Loren, their presence has been known to elves and wood spirits alike.

The slender bodies of the Elf Hunters are hidden under cloaks of leaves and vines, hidden in the branches high above their heads. They have anticipated the Skaven's march, aiming their bows and arrows at pre-selected spots and waiting for the enemy to reach the killing zone.

Hask cursed the elves, knowing that the elves did not fire their bows and arrows into the bones of the undead, but into the living flesh of the Skaven. The elves chose to attack those enemies that screamed, and the screams might be heard by other Skaven. sowing the seeds of fear and discord. He could smell the growing fear among his allies, a rancid smell that made his stomach boil.

"Control your rabble, control them, or I will come!" Husker growled at Nashrik, as he raised a claw and summoned magic powerful enough to cast an eerie light on his fingers.

"The Horned Rat protects all brave and fearless Skaven! No... don't be afraid... tremble! Elves don't... don't hurt... harm! Ah!" Nashrik's body was shaking violently, but he still wanted to try Do something, he shouted at the top of his voice.

However, Nashrik's passionless speech was interrupted in the middle and ended with a panicked scream. An arrow trembled in the night and pierced a Stormvermin standing beside him. .

Husker stared up into the woods, his eyes sparkling as he worked his magic. He stretched out his hand and recited an ancient spell. The spell was so old that the streets of Skaven Mordor were still crowded with humans, and the desert of Nehekhara was still full of living people.

A wisp of ghostly Dehar energy shot out from Husk's claws, groaning through the air as it hunted for prey with unerring precision.

Realizing his danger, the Aenir hunter jumped from branch to branch in an attempt to escape Husker's magic. This effort was in vain, however, as whenever he moved, the Deha energy immediately corrected its trajectory. Finally, the deha energy circled around the trunk of an ash tree and caught him before he could climb to a new location. He screamed before his withered body fell to the forest floor, shattering into a mass of blackened bones among the fallen leaves.

The death of the Elf Hunter did little to improve the morale of the Skaven, who could now hear the sounds of battle coming from the forest ahead. They moved closer to each other, looking longingly at the path behind them.

Husker closed his eyes and projected his consciousness onto the undead army ahead. Through the spectrum, he saw the situation clearly. The elf hunters were only a defensive cordon, and the savage elves were hidden in caves or tree holes beside the path. Following the elf leader's order, the painted elves launched an ambush. Shining swords and spears flashed through the formation of the vanguard army, and the slow-moving undead creatures were chopped down before they could turn around to face them. , the elves began to spin and leap in search of new victims before the broken skeleton touched the ground.

At the edge of the forest, other enemies began to appear. They were terrifying dryads. Their withered faces shone with hatred for the intruders, and their branch-like arms had long claws. The enraged forest spirit struck down Husker's undead hordes, tearing them to pieces with brutal claws.