Just being a dark elf in Warhammer

The guard's fists were like raindrops, constantly hitting Jon Skyland's face. Facing the guard's beating, he did not give in, but spit out a mouthful of blood at the guard, and then sneered. The result...he was bound to He won't get the good fruit, and more raindrops hit his face.

In just three days, Jon Skyland was tortured to a state of disgrace. He was beaten arbitrarily by the guards like a sandbag. Of course, this was only the lightest abuse. When the guards knew that as a vampire, he was afraid of fire, he lived in the heat, and of course there was no depth of water. Vampires are afraid of fire but not water, and there is no water in the cell. Can we only say that the Sigmar cult still has a trace of humanity? Or have the guards not thought of it yet?

The guards cuffed Jon Skyland with silver shackles that were specially blessed for vampires, and used torches to burn every part of his body, turning his skin into a state of ulceration that could not heal for a long time, but this was not important. , because he's Jon Skyland and he won't give in!

"This is all you have? This! Is this all you have? Soldiers?" Jon Skyland sneered after spitting out blood again.

The guard who was beating Jon Skyland stopped his fist. He took a step back and looked at Jon Skyland with surprised eyes. Then he swooped forward and beat him more vigorously than before. It seemed that he was using his movements. In response to Jon Skyland. After fighting for a while, he backed away breathlessly. Of course, he didn't stop there. It was just a short intermission, just like he usually did during training. Breathing heavily, he looked around, and soon he saw what he was looking for. Under the indifference of Priest Sigmar in the cell, he walked towards the thing.

Unable to escape, Jon Skyland was knocked to the ground by the door bolt. He lay on the ground rolling his eyes and gasping. The guard came around behind him, raised the bolt and hit him hard on the back of his neck, hitting him hard as he was trying to move. He tried to stand up with his hands on the ground, but he couldn't. His hands were cuffed behind his back. When he fell, he couldn't hold himself up. As he lay on the ground panting, the guard put his feet on his ribs. He gasped and stretched his knees to his chest, with jagged reeds pricking his face.

In just three days, Jon Skyland has become accustomed to this kind of life. He has become accustomed to the beatings given to him by the guards. Having received training as a witch hunter, he knows how to protect his vulnerable parts. It seemed to him that the guards lacked a certain imagination, lacked the hatred that made the torture even more horrific, because he could sense that the guards were not actually ruthless, because the guards still had humanity.

Jon Skyland draws strength from being beaten and tests the limits of his endurance. He knew that the beatings day after day would only make him stronger. He was not a fool. He was also a member of the Sigma Cult before. He was familiar with everything about the Sigma Cult. If his former colleagues wanted him dead, he would Long dead, he would have no illusions and would be at the mercy of the guards.

However, no, Jon Skyland knew that the fact was that his former colleagues wanted him to live, or that other forces wanted him to live. The reason is simple. He was recognized during the screening process. His identity is too special. He originally set out from Altdorf to investigate Sylvania. Just twenty years later, his former colleagues are still there, but unlike him, his age was frozen after he became a vampire. His colleagues became old or in high positions, just like the ones he killed in the gap in Dongcheng District.

All in all, Jon Skyland thinks humanity needs him, at least for now. Although the guards humiliated and taunted him and tortured him with all kinds of torture methods, humans still needed their vampire pets, either as hostages or as the focus of competition for political interests. This gave him a chance to resist, knowing that if given the chance, he would escape.

The cell door was closed, and the guards and Priest Sigmar left. Jon Skyland, who was imprisoned in a cell, lay on the floor paved with dirty reeds. There were more than just reeds in the cell. While the guards tortured him, they also thoughtfully gave him a blanket to insulate him from the cold and damp. The mouse crawled in through the cracks in the stone wall, stayed with him, and slept with him.

When lonely Jon Skyland makes a new friend, he greets them as lovingly as he did to his friends before, luring the rat to his side. When the rat relaxed his guard and cautiously came to him, he was no longer like when the guards beat him. His vampire body gave him good physical fitness. If he found the right opportunity, he would rush towards the rat. He was so grateful for his new friend, he was so hungry, his friend had precious fresh blood that would give him a new life.

——

The vampire war has taken a heavy toll on Altdorf, and the city will survive or perish like the human race. Altdorf's pulse had weakened and became unstable, and life here felt suffocating. Although the residents do their best to live their old lives and pretend nothing happened, it casts a pall over Altdorf's former glory.

Alaric finds Altdorf both fascinating and tragic, and denial seems to be an important part of humanity's survival. Even though he was an Imperial dwarf born in Altdorf, he couldn't figure it out, and he wondered more than once how the humans did it. This does not seem to require any skills, but a necessary means. Perhaps humans must learn to deny, otherwise humans will live in pain, just like being sucked dry by vampires. Perhaps humans’ denial is those who pay the price for freedom. a kind of respect.

For Alaric, it doesn't matter as the days pass, the weeks pass, and the years pass. Although dwarves cannot achieve near-immortality like elves, dwarves are also immortals. For dwarves, for dwarves, for For him, the passage of time has lost its meaning. There is no difference between today and yesterday, no difference between today and last month, and no difference between today and a few years ago. But the death of his father and relatives in the war overshadowed every day of his life. The pain flowed in his blood and made him drunk.

If anything, humans and dwarves are at least looking to the future rather than living in the festering past. Alaric, who woke up from a hangover, realized this. Perhaps he should learn from anthropology and look forward to a new life, but only if the honor of his father and relatives was upheld.

"Thank you, I learned everything that happened that night from my daughter's mouth, thank you for saving my daughter's life. If...I...I..."

Alaric raised his head and looked at the human standing in front of him. The human male's face was very withered and haggard. He could see the man's red and swollen eyes through the man's messy hair, and through the steel crossbow and the steel crossbow on his back. From the attire he was wearing, he could confirm that the man standing in front of him was a provincial soldier. But at this time, the man stood there, choking and trembling with excitement. He could feel the man's sadness and pain, but at the same time there was a trace of happiness. After all, his daughter was back by his side. It would be better if his wife came back. But unfortunately, he only saw Amy that night and did not see Amy's mother.

"Your daughter is very strong and brave. She saved herself. I just did what I could." After a moment of silence, Alaric shook his head at the man and said, then he looked at Ai Mi, then said, "We want to start a new life again, right? Child."

"Yes, Uncle Dwarf, thank you, thank you for everything you did that night." Although it was daytime, Amy's left hand still held the lantern that night, and her right hand held her father's hand. The war changed her family. She could not find her mother's body. The house she lived in before was burned and collapsed by the fire. Her eyes were red and swollen, but she still kept her spirits up and faced the dwarf who saved her that night. said the uncle.

After Amy finished speaking, she loosened her grip on her father's hand, put down the lantern, opened her arms to her dwarf uncle, who was only slightly taller than her, and then hugged the dwarf uncle tightly. She had a hunch that this might be the last time she saw her dwarf uncle.

After hugging for a moment, Alaric patted Amy's back gently, then nodded to the man standing there, then picked up the ax standing on the ground, turned around and left, his figure slowly Disappear into the crowd, disappear into the intersection of the street.

"Father..." Amy picked up the lantern and squeezed her father's hand again. She raised her head and said. Facing her father's questioning gaze, she shook her head. After all, she still did not say the next words.

Alaric's residence is located in the North City District. It is relatively well-preserved and has not been affected too much, unlike his friends. But he didn't want to stay in Altdorf anymore. He didn't know where he was going. Maybe he should go back to the mountains, but before leaving Altdorf, he still had two things to do.

Alaric walked through the narrow streets and watched the women cleaning the debris of the house, trying to find some things that could be used later. Some young and ignorant children were running wildly, as if they were on an adventure. And some are helping their mother rummage for useful things.

Altdorf is a reborn city. Alaric frowned as he walked, a feeling of dissatisfaction welling up in his heart. He saw some moneylenders surrounded by crowds, and people holding various items lined up at the door of the pawn shop. He knew that in every city there were people who would exploit the plight of others for personal gain, but the sight of this still made him sick. Those humans profit from suffering, which all goes against the idea of ​​people coming together in difficult times.

On the other side of the square, at the door of the Thalia Church that Alaric burned that night, a desolate scene came into view. People lined up in a long line with soup bowls in their hands, waiting for the priest's alms. Their eyes revealed endless hunger and despair.

For many people, poverty is no longer an unfamiliar word. People were once proud and confident, but now, in the face of hunger and suffering, these feelings seem to have become so commonplace. In the long queue, a woman was crying desperately. Her eyes no longer had the strength and courage of the past, but only endless sadness and despair.

Alaric's heart was pounding as he knew that the city was overwhelmed by vampire hatred and that everyone had lost something in this war. He didn't want to imagine the depth of pain that woman suffered, because he couldn't do anything, just like that night. That night made him understand that some things are not something he can do whatever he wants. Like, if it weren't for the sun...

Pollock sat on the steps at the corner of the street, whittling a strange-shaped wooden stick with a dagger used to process meat scraps. Behind him was the ruins of his previous home.

Alaric, who had been observing for a moment on the street corner, appeared in front of Pollock. The ruins in front of him were once his friend's butcher shop, and Pollock sitting there was his friend's son. As he came, Pollock stopped whittling the wood and looked up at him. He also looked at Pollock. In dwarf culture, Pollock was just a child who had just learned to walk. When he went to drink with his friends, he would always bring Pollock some gifts from the North City. He liked this child and he A friend's child, but this time, he didn't bring a gift.

"Uncle...my father?"

"He returned to Grimnir's arms. He was brave. He fought until the end. You must be proud of him, my son."

"I...I'm...a little scared."

"Life goes on, child. Look around you. Every human being is returning to his or her past life bit by bit."

Pollock did not respond to Alaric's words. Instead, he curled up and hugged his knees with his hands.

Alaric thought he was telling the truth. Those who survived worked hard to piece together the broken pieces, trying to fill the gaps left by their loved ones. Humans and dwarves fell to protect this once great city, but he How to explain all this to a kid like Pollock.

"Come on, kid, hold my hand, we should go for a walk." After a long time, Alaric stretched out his hand to Pollock and said.

After completing one thing, Alaric had to continue to complete another. He continued walking with Pollock in the streets and came to the bridge. The smell of river water stung his nostrils. The ocean was not what he wanted to adapt to. The place. It was hard to imagine that people liked the ocean shaking and rolling under their feet. He shook his head. He did not deny the importance of shipping, but if he could choose, he would definitely leave a few mountains between himself and the sea.

Ships had arrived, bringing much-needed food to Altdorf, but it seemed to Alaric that even with the influx of food, the city was still in a state of famine that would take many years to recover from. The Army of the Dead contaminates everything with the pollution it brings to the land, leaving disease and blight behind. Fetuses and lambs are stillborn, cheese curds, and granaries rot.

Alaric took Pollock and stood on the bridge for a while. He looked at everything in the dock area, watching the dock workers operating a rigging machine to load and unload cargo. When the crew pushed the boxes out of the cabin, the workers kept working together, moving like a swarm of ants, busy with purpose but completely independent of each other. This fascinates him so much that he is not the only one interested in the boats. People gather on the dock, curious about what the boats will bring, eager to know if there is food there.

From Alaric's point of view, it was wonderful to see those ships at the dock. Without boats, Altdorf would soon turn into a ghost town. People needed boats, and he saw that the boats brought not food, but some fruit. After learning that it was fruit, the people gathered on the dock sighed and dispersed, continuing to look for other ships, while some stayed. He realized that the captain was a shrewd man, and he understood the value of these luxuries. The fruit would not do much for hunger, but it would soothe the nerves of the city.

Alaric thought of this and turned to look at Pollock. He saw Pollock's curious eyes. Maybe Pollock should get something, such as a simple fruit to make Pollock's day unusual. Maybe fruit can bring happiness to Pollock, allowing him to temporarily forget his father who died in the war and the pain. Sometimes, happiness may be more important than the feeling of fullness. Maybe this is not happiness, but hope. Perhaps, he should replace his friend and take on the responsibility of being a father.

Maybe... there is no possibility. After thinking about it, Alaric nodded to Pollock, and then he took Pollock's hand and walked in the opposite direction to Sigma Cathedral. (End of chapter)