Just being a dark elf in Warhammer

Telankar walked with heavy steps, and the sound of the soles of his boots touching the ground echoed clearly in the gradually quiet streets. His body leaned forward slightly, as if an unspeakable weight was pressing on his shoulders. In his mind, the fragments of his experience in the past twenty-four days kept emerging, like an endless dream, one scene after another.

He remembered every fierce battle in the arena, the roar and sweat of the contestants when they wielded wooden weapons, and the cheers and boos of the audience. The moment when the captain of the war dancer fell, and his hysterical cheers for victory, seemed to still be clearly audible.

He remembered the surge brought by the chariot race, the chariots speeding in the field, the dust raised by the wheels mixed with the screams of the audience, forming a feast of speed and power. Every sharp turn and wheel collision made his heart rise to his throat, and he almost jumped up on the spot. When the champion chariot crossed the finish line, the enthusiasm on the field and the excitement in his heart were intertwined, and he could not calm down for a long time.

He remembered the wonderful competitions of archery on horseback, archery on foot and horse racing, and every scene seemed to be imprinted in his memory.

During the archery competition, the horses neighed on the field, and the sound of the iron hooves hitting the ground echoed like thunder. Each contestant wore simple light armor and held the bow and arrow specified for the competition. The horses galloped in the field. At the moment of crossing the obstacles, the contestants opened their bows left and right, and the arrows shot at the targets in the air like meteors. The explosion sound of an arrow hitting the target echoed in the field, and the exclamations and cheers of the audience intertwined.

The action of one contestant was particularly impressive to him. The knight pulled away at the moment when the horse turned sharply, his body almost stuck to the horse's back, and he turned around with his right hand holding the bow, shooting three arrows in three directions, in front, on the left and in the sky. The three arrows hit at the same time, smoke came out of the bull's eye, and the referee's horn sounded immediately, and the whole audience cheered.

The rifle shooting competition was more intense, with contestants shuttling through complex venues, climbing over low walls, climbing ropes, and crossing narrow wooden bridges. Their movements were as smooth as flowing water, and the sound of the bowstrings being plucked when shooting was like drumbeats on the battlefield. The targets were no longer simple static targets, but were hung on swinging ropes or hidden behind obstacles.

The performance of a contestant wearing a brown-green cloak triggered warm applause from the audience. When she jumped onto a vertical sling, she not only stabilized her body, but also shot an arrow at the moment of jumping in the air, hitting the target accurately, then climbed over the high wall at lightning speed, turned around and drew the bow, hitting another target again.

The horse racing competition was more like a stage play, with contestants riding on tall war horses, and the horses galloping in the exquisitely designed venues, jumping over high wooden fences, and wading through shallow pools. The difference is that this is not only a test for the horses, but the obstacles also require the riders to participate in person.

A rider in a black cloak performed particularly well in the arena. When the warhorse was running at high speed, he quickly jumped off, deftly passed through a narrow arc iron ring, held the ring with both hands, swung his body through the wooden frame at the other end, and then jumped back on the horse. Then, the warhorse jumped over the last obstacle and rushed to the finish line, winning cheers from the audience.

He remembered the tense atmosphere of the Blood Bowl rugby, where the players rushed on the field like beasts, roaring and knocking their opponents to the ground. The commentary of the Hand of the Witch King echoed in his ears like a war drum, and the sharp and accurate commentary portrayed the thrill and excitement of each game vividly. He clearly remembered the cheers that broke out when the last ball was dunked into the opponent's scoring area, like a mountain torrent, shaking people's hearts, although he still didn't quite understand the rules.

He also remembered the wild postures of those noble ladies when playing polo, which completely subverted his traditional impression of the powerful. They wore gorgeous riding clothes and swung the mace mercilessly, with swift and precise movements. When a contestant made a stunning comeback, the whole audience was boiling, and her figure became a symbol of victory and beauty.

What he remembered most vividly was the boxing match. The feeling of hitting the flesh was like fighting on the battlefield, and every punch seemed to hit his heartbeat. The contestants gritted their teeth, their faces were covered with sweat and blood, and their eyes were burning with unyielding fighting spirit. At the end of each round, the contestants stood shakily on the ring and accepted the enthusiastic cheers from the audience. That moment seemed to be the coronation of a hero.

These scenes flashed through his mind like lightning, and every detail and every excitement carried the afterglow of the festival, which made him slow down his steps involuntarily. He took a deep breath, as if he could still smell the air mixed with sweat, dust and cheers in the arena. These memories, both short-lived and eternal, are deeply engraved in the depths of his soul.

He remembered the different performances every day. Those carefully arranged programs were the soul of this grand festival, as if they were a vivid reproduction of the history and myths of the elves.

When the actor played Aenarion and stepped into the blazing sacred fire, the burning flames were as dazzling as the sun. The audience held their breath and watched him struggle in the flames, and finally walked out with a sacred glow.

At that moment, Telankar's heartbeat seemed to stop, and he could feel the awe and emotion in the countless eyes around him. Aenarion's sacrifice transcended the boundaries of ethnicity and faith, and deeply engraved the elves' reverence for heroes in everyone's soul.

He still remembered the oath of the Hell Calamity family. When the torch was held high and the swords were crossed, the solemnity of that moment shocked everyone's hearts. He recalled the cry of "The oath of hell, until death!" This oath was not just a family commitment, but more like a collective oath to the fate of the elves. No wonder the Hell Calamity Family has been able to stand firm for thousands of years.

All of this is like spiritual baptism one after another, depicting the glory, sacrifice, faith and unity of the elves. Those performances made him feel that his life had a new meaning, and also made him understand that the fate of the elves was never just his own, but the common glory and responsibility of the entire race.

He remembered the crowds swarming around in the market, and how the smell of meat skewers made him struggle for a long time, his steps wavering between temptation and frugality. In the end, he restrained his desire, but he couldn't help but stare at the druchis holding meat skewers, watching with envy how they feasted. He still remembered the funny and short transaction, the moment when the skink handed over the fried bugs, with a bit of weird generosity. Although the transaction was short, it revealed a funny tacit understanding, which became an unforgettable memory in his memory. scene.

He remembered the bustling crowd gathered under the silver flag, some filled with joy and some with expressions of frustration. The scene where Druchi was caught by the soldiers while trying to defraud him of a second portion of food was still before his eyes. He was dragged away mercilessly and became the "first guest" in the cage. At that moment, the laughter and whispers of the onlookers made him clearly feel the strictness of the rules and the power of order under the appearance of the festival.

He remembered an even more peculiar sight, a giant toad sitting on a throne, surrounded by exquisite ornaments and gorgeous cloth, and served by skinks. In front of and behind him were lizardman guards armed with spears and wearing armor, marching majestically through the streets. The majesty of the toad is like that of a walking god. Wherever it goes, the skinks bow their heads in salute, and the drukis also avoid it. The whole scene is both foreign and sacred.

When the temple area opened, he visited every sacred site with awe. He remembered the towering statues, the relief murals symbolizing oceans and storms, and the worshipers kneeling in pious worship. His eyes wandered between the magnificent dome and the four spiers, and the mysterious and majestic atmosphere almost made him suffocate.

But his most profound memory is the last carnival.

He stood in the crowd, looking at the magnificent ceremony in front of the Great Temple of Marcelan, and his heart surged accordingly. When the son of the sea held up the trident of the sea, the blue-green light intersected with everything around him, just like the will of the sea and the storm came to the world.

The prayers poured into his ears from all directions like a rising tide, and every word struck deep in his soul. As a believer in Marcelan, he, like others, performs the unique rituals of Marcelan believers, prays devoutly, and completely entrusts his inner faith to the god who dominates the deep sea and storms.

At that moment, he felt not only the joy of carnival, but also a profound sense of belonging and mission. The meaning of this festival quietly sublimated in his heart, no longer just celebration and relaxation, but endless respect for the gods and recognition of the new order. He felt his connection to Marcelan grow closer, like the waves of the ocean surging through his veins.

After it was over, he came to Hailan Hub and exchanged most of the Sovereign in his hand for a talisman symbolizing Marcelan.

It was an extremely exquisite ornament, shaped like a crystal clear water droplet, carved from azure crystal. There seemed to be waves flowing slowly inside the water droplet, as if a real sea was sealed in it. The bottom of the drop is inlaid with a circle of delicate silver ornaments, engraved with the pattern of waves symbolizing Marselan, while the top is a small rune, representing the eternal connection between ocean and storm.

The ornament is a magic prop, and it is his first magic prop. The priest told him that the talisman can help him resist three fatal attacks. If he falls into the sea, holding down the talisman will allow him to return to the sea.

He carefully hung the amulet around his neck, and the cold touch brought a sense of peace to his heart. He touched the amulet and could feel Marcelan's power and blessing flowing through him.

Everything seems like yesterday, but it also seems like a long time ago. He sighed softly and looked up ahead. After the festival, the streets of Chapeuto were less noisy and more silent. There are still soldiers patrolling around, but the crowd has dispersed, leaving only memories and inevitable reality.

“What does the future look like?”

Telankar asked himself in a low voice, and raised his head to look at the Great Temple of Matheran not far away. The dome looked extremely mysterious under the sunlight. His steps became slower, and his eyes were complex and deep. No matter what the future holds, everything in these twenty-four days has become an indelible part of his life, imprinted deep in his soul.

However, as the moment of departure approached, a deep uneasiness and uneasiness surged in his heart. What awaits him in the future is that familiar but disgusting place, the Black Ark. The chaotic environment above, the ever-present malice, and the hostility lurking in every corner made it impossible for him to truly relax for a moment. On the Ark, his sleep was not for rest, but to stay awake to a minimum in order to deal with the daggers that might strike from the darkness at any time.

During this time, he felt the beauty of order, security and trust in Chapeyuto. Although there are countless Duruchi here, there are also rules and bottom lines. Whether it is the noisy market on the street or the life-and-death duel in the arena, everything is running in a seemingly simple but extremely powerful order. Even the lizardmen can live in harmony with the Duruchi, and this kind of harmony is absolutely impossible on the Black Ark.

"I don't want to go back..."

He muttered in his heart, and his fists clenched involuntarily. The oppression, cruelty and chaos of the Black Ark made him feel suffocated. Every night, he had to be careful and dared not relax for a moment. And here, he could sleep peacefully for the first time and feel relaxed physically and mentally.

"But can I escape?"

He asked himself in a low voice, but he couldn't answer. As a member of the Tower of Annihilation, he had no choice. The Ark is his home and his shackles. He must go back, but the disgust in his heart is like a thorn that pierces deeply into his soul, making him feel painful.

He stopped and looked up at the dome of the Great Temple of Matheran. The dome, which symbolized order and shelter, made him even more miserable at this moment. He sighed, slowly raised his hand and touched the amulet hanging on his chest, as if he wanted to draw a little comfort from it.

"Matheran... bless me."

His voice was inaudible, but full of pleading and desire. Unconsciously, tears slowly flowed down his face, but he did not wipe them away. He knew that he had tasted the sweetness of order, and returning to chaos would become even more unbearable.

A deep sense of loneliness surrounded him, his steps were heavy and slow, and every step was like dragging a heavy yoke. He walked through the familiar streets, and these scenes seemed to wave goodbye to him. He knew that the road under his feet led to the dock, to the familiar and malicious black ark, and he was powerless to change all this.

When the outline of the dock appeared in his sight, his mood became even heavier. The ships were anchored on the water in the distance, exuding a suffocating sense of oppression. His steps were getting slower and slower, and he almost wanted to stop, but he was finally pushed forward by an invisible force.

On the surrounding docks, the Duruchi were busy moving goods and loading and unloading supplies. Occasional laughter and shouts echoed in the air, but these sounds seemed so far away to Telankar. His eyes stayed on the faces of those Duruchi, trying to find a hint of familiarity or warmth in their expressions, but he saw nothing.

When he finally came to the side of the ship, he stopped. The familiar deck, those malicious eyes, and the chaotic and disorderly environment were right in front of him.

"At least, I still have you."

He murmured to himself, sticking the amulet to his chest, as if this could bring a little comfort. The days of the Black Ark will begin again, and the beautiful memories of order and safety have become the only light in his heart.

"I must hold on."

He looked up at the distant sea, silently reciting his oath in his heart, promising that no matter how difficult the future is, he will be as firm as the waves and contribute everything to the will of Matheran.

——

Time passed day by day, and the day of returning north was getting closer and closer.

After the festival and ceremony, Daxus first sent away Siglin, who was worried, and Finarfin, who was confused about the future. The way of sending them off was also very special. They did not send them off with weapons, nor did they say goodbye at the dock, but came to the Western Star Pyramid with the help of Master Xia.

He felt that sometimes Asur, or the entire elves... were... hard to say.

These two did not come directly from Twilight Fortress, but came from a lone ship under the name of going to Dawn Fortress, and it was natural for them to return to the ship. As for Dawn Fortress, there was no need to go there, and the misunderstanding about the Yangyan Amulet had been resolved long ago. As for how to explain to the crew, it had nothing to do with him.

Siglin returned to Twilight Fortress to continue her dawdling work, just like before, while defending the Anureil Peninsula, monitoring Chapeyuto's actions. Finarfin was a bit noisy. He planned to return to the Kingdom of Yvresse once the delegation returned to Ulthuan. There were some things that everyone had to sit down and talk about.

The Asur delegation had no urgent idea to return to Elsin Arwen. In fact, their journey to the old world had ended long ago, but the elves had a long lifespan and a longer deadline for doing things.

They planned to stay in Chapeyuto for a while. Kaia and Adeanna would follow Serene to study in the cult for a while and learn to bring some of the cult's patterns, rituals and rules back to the Kingdom of Cosqui and Lauren Loren.

Ulthuan also had a storm weaver system, but that was it. Ulthuan had its own situation and was not a system. Daxus's idea was to wait for Adeanna to return, develop in the shell of Ulthuan, and merge directly after the dust settled. In CK3's words, Adeanna was doing the work of promoting cultural recognition and establishing a fusion religion at that time.

Kaiya started from scratch, first building a system in Seatirta in the Storm Zone. As for whether to move to the current Marienburg or Miragliano, that is a matter for the future, and there is no rush now.

Although Marin is also a Matheran believer, she is just learning magic and communicating with Walter about some financial work.

Fenrir stayed in Asheril, developing pharmaceuticals and psychology, and taking charge of the religious work of the school, and building a new Hos system in Asheril that can be integrated with the previous one immediately after the dust settles.

Pharmaceuticals are a big deal. Although elves don't get sick very often, they can get hurt. Emergency medicines, auxiliary medicines, and vaccines are necessary. Dacus is not going to give them to Aisha and the Asati system, but to the Hos system.

After all, research requires funding, and the Phoenix Court can't always pay for it. It's safe to give this to the Hos system, but who knows what the Asati system can come up with. Herb planting can be carried out in the Kingdom of Safrui. Anyway, there are good lands near the White Tower of Hos. It's a bit too wasteful to use those good lands to grow ordinary crops. When they become the big industry of the Kingdom of Safrui, the Phoenix Court can collect taxes in return.

In his vision, each province has its own characteristics, and they don't all have industrial parks and financial industries. Of course, he didn't talk to Fenrir about these things. Talking about these things with a great wizard who is confused about the future... It's really a bit weird. Fenrir is not a noble, a businessman, or a Safrui, so we have to talk about the future!

Bel-Ahor and Eltharion, his two second sons, served as his adjutants and followed him to Naggaroth to experience the local customs and hospitality of Naggaroth.

At the beginning, Walter's tone was too high. According to conventional politics, there was no room for improvement. What should he do in this situation?

He mentioned the idea of ​​following Dacus back to Naggaroth. In his words, the days with Dacus were the happiest days of his life. He liked to go to the market, advance in the jungle, fight, study, handle government affairs, etc. No matter what he did, he liked it as long as he could be with Dacus.

People are not static, and the elves are the same, but there are few who can remain static, and Walter is the best example. His personality, experience and experience are not like him and most of the Duruchi. He does not have too much desire for power, and he is somewhat calm and easy-going.

At least Dacus thinks so, which is why he chose Walter in the first place. He understood Walter's fatigue and could feel the sincere emotion in his words. This was not a test or a request, but a confession from an old friend. He could feel Walter's dependence on him, as if he was not Walter's old friend, but Walter's father.

So a conversation occurred.

"Walter, you are the person I trust the most, no one else. Asheril's today is due to your indelible contribution, but I also understand your desire to follow me back to Nagaros. This is not to follow me, but to find back the kind of life that once made you feel fulfilled and happy." Daquus spoke in a low voice, his tone calm and steady.

Walter did not speak, but tapped the table unconsciously with his fingers. He looked a little tired, but there was still a glimmer of expectation and stubbornness in his eyes.

"But I can't let you leave Aishriel, you are needed here. This is not only my decision, but also destiny has chosen you. You have injected soul into Aishriel. Without you, Aishriel will be a region without soul."

"Dakeus, thank you. I will do my best to live up to this trust." Walter raised his head, with a little loss in his eyes, but more of relief. He understood Dakuus's intentions and knew his responsibilities. He was silent for a while, then nodded gently.

"If you are tired, if you really feel overwhelmed, tell me. I don't want to trap you in this land, but I hope you understand that you are needed here, but you also need to find your own balance point. I will solve the matter between you and Whitney as soon as possible." Dakuus's tone became soft.

"You are always like this, you can see through everyone's heart. I will persist, persist until a hundred years later." Walter lowered his head and smiled softly.

He was not sentenced to death or demoted. He was still the Night Warden of Asherel, guarding Asherel and responsible for all work except military affairs.

Watt did not move, but Dorian did. He followed Dacus back to Naggaroth for a period of time to carry out the construction of Taliondan and learn military theoretical knowledge. After everything is completed, he will return to Asherel.

The changes in Asherel's military system are not only for Dorian, but also for Viena. She will return to Naggaroth to carry out construction work and learn theoretical knowledge, while leading a legion and returning to her path as the Lord of Terror.

Bakron will stay in Asherel temporarily, replacing Garros, responsible for the garrison and daily work of Potos. Garros will become Asherel's Valahar, guarding Asherel when Dorian is away.

When Dorian returns to Naggaroth, he will take a group of Asherel's garrisons. These officers and soldiers will study in depth in Naggaroth, and then some will stay in Naggaroth and some will follow him back to Asherel. At the same time, a group of soldiers will be brought back from Naggaroth, so that the military framework of both sides will be in place. The new population of Asheril and the soldiers transferred from Naggaroth will strengthen the strength of the Asheril garrison.

In Daquus's expectation, the Asheril garrison will become the first wave when landing, and the fist must be strong, rather than just being responsible for the defense of Asheril.

When Dorian returns to Asheril, it will be the day when Bakron and Garros return to Naggaroth. They will be promoted to true dread lords and lead the first wave of large armies.

Whitney did not move, but she was promoted from the original Night Warden of Asherel City to the Night Warden of Asherel Province. While presiding over the work of the textile factory, she was also responsible for the planting of textile plants, and occasionally had to solve some technical and equipment problems in Asherel.

On the Asrai side, Wetir, Tyrandor, Seonlan, Kalaona, Athlin, Kerillian and Tilya Silverwing followed him to Naggaroth. The Thorn Sisters led by Liv and Saraleel Soul Walker stayed in Asherel, staying in La Plata, assisting Alyssa in building the Emerald Garden.

Some of the eighty Vaal blacksmiths, or priests, stayed in Asherel; some went to Naggaroth to serve as senior engineers to contribute to Duruchi's war machine.

The Vaal blacksmiths who stayed in Asherel were also divided. Some assisted Whitney's work, and some were sent to the Serpent's Rest Island to work with the Skin Lizard Priests and craftsmen to forge the advanced equipment that Lizardmen and Duruchi urgently needed. On the Spicazuma side, Koptiti is in charge, and there is no need for the Val blacksmith. The installation and other things can be done slowly.

On the Ainir side, Talos and Tolandir followed Daquus to Naggaroth. There were also newcomers, Kaia's cousin Adrel Van Maris and Lindialok's nephew Karahir Elwin.

Since the military flag deduction is a team competition, just as Daquus thought, there are a lot of jokes, such as friendly troops in trouble, what does it have to do with me; friendly troops are in turmoil, but I remain as still as a mountain; there are jokes about eating meat at the same time.

There is no art and beauty at all, just like a child playing house.

Although the deduction is messy, some coordination, tactical literacy and awareness can still be seen. After discovering some good talents, Karahill performed relatively well and had a sense of the overall situation, but when it came to the actual operation...

Darkus and Lindyalock were close friends who did not seek to be born on the same day or die on the same day. They had fought and shared the spoils. He must take care of his nephew, and his ability and character were indeed good. He was calm, cautious, good at hiding his emotions, had a mature thinking mode, and could find a delicate balance. As for martial arts, forget it. It was hard to say, it was eye-catching, and his archery was at the average level of Enil.

As a serious civilian, Karahill gave two choices, one was to work as a staff officer in Taliendan, and the other was to work as his adjutant in military logistics management.

Karahill chose the second option without any hesitation and became the adjutant of Dakwus.

Asanok and Melehi Elwyn stayed in Asherel to assist Alyssa in establishing the Emerald Garden; Ryan, as the deputy propaganda minister, learned from Liariel and presided over Asherel's propaganda work; Gavino and Elanor stayed in Rosario Province, serving Asuryan while teaching Asherel's garrison to use long-handled battle axes. Later... maybe they will fight together with Asherel's garrison or with the Phoenix Guard? It depends on the situation at that time.

Estelle Celadel, the spy of Queen Marest, does not need to be responsible for the trade docking between Duruci and Ainir, which is Kaia's business. So, she was taken to Naggaroth by Daquus. In Daquus' words, if you want to see, see enough.

There is no change on the Duruci side. Malagos chose to stay in Asherel to do education, and Yilanya became an Asati priest and started the Asati sect in Asherel. In addition, they all followed Daquus back to Naggaroth.

Dacus asked Kallion again if he wanted to stay in Chapeiuto as a trainer, and Kallion made the same choice as last time.

Looking around, everything seemed to be covered by a gray veil. Familiar faces were all people with strong nepotism. Behind each appointment letter, you can see the two words "nepotism" written in bold. These two words, like a brand, are deeply engraved in every corner of the entire system.

Every position and every decision is closely linked to blood and family affection.

However, Dacus was not surprised. He had long been accustomed to this phenomenon. After all, he grew up in such a system and learned to be at ease under this rule. For him, this is just part of the game. He has learned how to use all of this for his own benefit.

Moreover, he really has no one to use. After returning to Naggaroth, when the situation is more stable. Just as he had thought at the beginning, while there were so many people, the whole Naggaroth stage, if there was work, you should come, try to dig out as many talents as possible, and show some unique skills.

Facing the group of various Duruchi, Asur, lizardmen and behemoths on the dock, Daquus raised his hand slightly and waved gracefully. His eyes passed through the dock and scanned the city that was gradually going away. Those faces that had accompanied him through countless complicated moments were now separated by the ships that were gradually going away. He knew that although he had left these familiar lands, everything was still not over, and the future still needed him to write.

As the ship gradually sailed towards the sea, the oncoming wind blew his hair, and the salty smell of sea water was mixed in the air, fresh and stimulating. The oblique sails were billowing in the wind, making bursts of sound, and the hull rose and fell with the waves, gradually approaching the location of the Vicious Temple.

Daquus stood at the bow, his eyes firm, as if he could see the distant future through the vast sea. He knows that the road ahead will be full of challenges and opportunities, but he is ready to face it all.

"Nagaros, I'm back!" (End of this chapter)