Phoenix Chaos Nine Palaces Underground elves

"Do you really think I'm willing to let you go?" As Dineen entered the antechamber of the temple, Mareth was speaking to Ryssen. "If not, how can you fool Xena Fichnet?"

"Thank you, Mistress!" Ruissen replied with great relief. He bowed step by step and stepped back from Rylith's throne.

Mareth looked around at her family and declared, "The hard week is over, and the Secret Soul Binding Method is complete!" ”

Dineen preemptively twisted his hands in congratulations. For a week, only the women in the family had seen the fruits of their hard work. At Mareth's suggestion, Verna walked to the side of the room and pulled Bryn apart. Standing there was the official technical chief Zack Navan. He is no longer a decaying corpse, but a living dark elf.

When the martial arts chief stepped forward and came to Mareth's side, Dinen felt a shock all over his body.

"My dear Zaknavan, you look as handsome as ever." Mareth said to the corpse with satisfaction, and the immortal body did not react.

"And more obedient." Brissa continued, adding a string of giggles.

"This ...... He...... Go arrest Trist!" Dinen asked with courage, though he knew there was no room for him to speak. Fortunately, Mareth and the other women were so focused on the magical Zaknavan that they forgot to punish the eldest son.

"Zaknavan will give your brother the punishment he deserves." Mareth swore an oath, her eyes glinting.

"But, wait," she said coldly, turning her gaze from the corpse of the Spirit-bound corpse, "He's too beautiful to make my brazen son fearful." The others exchanged confused glances, speculating that Mareth might be trying to comfort Risen for his torment.

"Come, my companion," Maris said to Ryssen, "draw your sword and make a few slashes in the face of your dead adversary." It'll make you feel better, and it will make Trist feel intimidated when he faces his former mentor! ”

Ryssen hesitantly walked over. When he approached the corpse, he grew bolder. Zaknavan didn't move, his eyes didn't blink, he didn't even breathe, and he didn't seem to react to what was going on around him. Ryssen gripped the hilt of his sword and glanced at Mareth for confidence.

Mareth nodded. Ryssen roared, drawing his sword and stabbing Zaknavan in the face.

However, the tip of the sword had no chance to hit the target.

Before everyone could react, they saw that the twin swords that bound the spirit corpse flew out of their sheaths at lightning speed, and with a horizontal slash in front of their chests, they completed the task accurately in an instant. Rysen's sword flew out of his hand, and before the destined squire could protest, his throat was slashed by a sword from Zaknavan, and his heart was inserted into another sword.

Before Ruisen could fall to the ground, he was exhausted; But the corpse didn't stop immediately. His twin swords continued to slash at the poor corpse dozens of times, until Mareth told him to stop, satisfied.

"I'm tired of that guy." Mareth explained to the children's incredulous eyes, "I have already chosen the next acolyte. ”

In fact, it wasn't Rushen's death that shocked them, they didn't care at all who would be the mother's partner, and the person would always change. The reason why they were dumbfounded was completely because they were shocked by the wonderful performance of the bound spirit corpse.

"Just as powerful as when you were alive." Dinen said.

"Better!" Mareth replied, "Zaknafan is now a complete warrior, combat skills are all his everything, and once he has his sights on his prey, nothing can distract him. Kid, look at him. This is the secret method of binding the spirit, Rose's gift!" She turned to Dineen, a wicked smile.

"I'll never go near that thing!" Dineen gasped and said, does the terrible mother still want a second performance?

Mareth smiled at him. "Don't be afraid, eldest son, I have no reason to hurt you."

Her words were not at all reassuring to Dineh. She didn't need a reason, as evidenced by the body of Ruisen, who had fallen to the ground and was chopped in a mess.

"You're going to lead the corpses out of the city." Mareth said.

"Out of town?" Dineen replied hesitantly.

"Take him to the area where you met your brother." Marlies explained.

"I'm going to follow that thing?" Dineen gasped again.

"Take him there, and leave," Maris replied, "and he'll hunt on his own." Spells are cast on him to enhance his hunting abilities. ”

Brissa on the side was a little uneasy.

"What's wrong?" Mareth asked when she saw her frown.

"I have no doubt about the ability of the corpse to bind the corpse, and I believe in the magic you cast on him, but ......" Brissa hesitated, knowing that Mareth would not allow any objection to this momentous operation.

"You're still afraid of your brother?" Mareth asked.

Brissa didn't know how to answer.

"Lay down your fears," said Mareth calmly, "Zaknavi is a gift from our God, and nothing can stop him in the dark realms. She looked at the undead monster, "My martial arts chief, you won't let me down, will you?" ”

Zaknafan stood expressionlessly, his bloodstained swords back in their scabbards, his hands hanging at his sides, his eyes staring straight ahead without blinking. He looked like a statue, breathless, lifeless.

However, as long as you look at the pile of flesh at Zaknafan's feet, which used to be the father of the Duden family, the flesh and blood are full of flesh and blood, and the miserable appearance, no one dares to doubt that Zaknavan is not a living person.

The second Belva

Friendship: Whether in the Dark Lands or on the surface of a Forgotten Realm, this term has different meanings for different races and civilizations. In the city of Morsoblay, friendship is generally based on mutual benefit. The relationship is secure when an alliance is profitable for both parties. However, loyalty is not the creed of the Drow Elves, and once a friend believes that a greater good can be gained by dumping the other person, he will immediately cut through the mess, and the friendship will end with it, and usually the other person's life will end with it.

I've made very few friends in my life, and I don't think that's going to change if I lived for a thousand years. Still, there is no need to be too sad, because the people who treated me like friends were of noble character and enriched my life experience and benefited me a lot. The first was Zaknavan, my father and mentor, who made me understand that I was not alone and encouraged me to stand up for what I believed in. Zaknavan saved me from the chaos and evil and blind faith that had ruined my people.

But I still lost myself until an underground gnome with a broken arm came into my life. Years ago, I saved Dinein's life from his merciless knife. My actions paid off. Years later, I met the underground gnomes again, but this time I was at their mercy. If it weren't for Belvardi Senge, I would have been killed, though I would have preferred to die then.

My time in Brindon Rock is quite short for my long life. I am still impressed about the city and its inhabitants, and I will always remember them. It was the first society I came into contact with that was not sustained by selfish individualism, but based on mutual aid and cooperation. Underground gnomes fight against the hostilities and dangers of the Shadows, engage in endless mining labor, and play games together, all of which form an integral part of their rich lives.

Joy is better to share than to taste alone.

Triste Duden

Chapter VII Honorary Prospecting Chief

"Honorary Prospecting Chief, thank you very much for coming." Outside the door of the cell where the Drow elves were imprisoned gathered a group of underground gnomes, all of whom bowed respectfully to the comer, and one of them thanked him.

Belvardi Senge stepped back slightly. He had not received any honour or fame from his clan since that tragic day ten years ago. On that day, he and his mining team were in the tunnels east of Brindon Stone, close to Morsoblay, when they were attacked by the dark elves, and he was amputated and almost died of excessive blood loss, but he managed to return to his hometown and become the only survivor of the exploration team.

The underground gnome gave way to Belva so he could see the room and the elf clearly. For the elves tied to the chairs, the whole round room was very solid, and the rock was formed, and there was no exit except for the thick stone door with iron borders. However, there is a window that is isolated by the illusion of video and sound, so that the guards outside can keep an eye on the prisoners at all times.

Belva looked at Trist for a moment. "He's a drow," his loud voice was filled with anger and impatience. He didn't know why he had been summoned here. "It's no different from any other drow elf."

"This prisoner claims to have met you in the Dark Realm," an older Snebli said to Belva. As he continued to speak, his voice became soft, and his whole head was lowered: "On the day of the fiasco." ”

At the mention of that day, Belva's whole body shrank again. How many times will he recall this tragic event?

"Maybe," he shrugged, not commenting, "I can't tell the difference in the dark elves' appearance, and I don't want to try!" ”

"That's right," said another, "they all look the same." ”

As the underground gnomes talked, Trist turned his face to the side to face them, though he couldn't hear or see anything under the illusions on the stone walls.

"Honorary Commander, maybe you remember his name." Another underground gnome proposed. As soon as they saw that Belva suddenly became interested in the dark elves, they stopped talking.

There is no light at all in the circular room, and in the infrared spectrum, the eyes of the creature will appear red; But Trist's eyes are an exception, even under infrared light, his eyes are noticeably purple.

Belva remembered those eyes.

"The rocks are down!" He took a deep breath, "Trist." He grunted in reply to the proposed dwarf.

"You really know him!" Several underground gnomes shouted together.

Belva raised his two stump arms. One stump is equipped with a Mithril spade, and the other is equipped with NB343. "This drow, this Trist," he stammered trying to explain, "and he's the one who made me what I am today!" ”

Some of the gnomes thought that the Honored Master was angry about the past, and began muttering prayers for the Dark Elves. "King Snittic's verdict is upheld," said one of them, "and the elf should be put to death at once." "But he, this Trist, he saved my life." Belva interrupted him. The rest turned to him in disbelief.

"It's true that Trist crippled me," the Honorary Master continued, "but it was also thanks to his advice that I was able to return to Brindon Rock alive." The Trist said, 'Let him be a warning to the gnomes.' But even then, I understood that those words were for his cruel brother. I know the truth behind what he said, and that is mercy! ”

An hour later, the same Snebli advisor who had spoken to Trist earlier walked into the cell. "The king's verdict is that you will be put to death." As soon as he approached the Eight Chairs, he spoke bluntly to the Dark Elves.

"I understand." Trist replied as calmly as he could. "I will not resist your ruling." He looked at the zirconium on his body, thought about it for a moment, and said, "I'm not saying I 'can't'. ”

Snebli stopped, looked at the unpredictable prisoner, and was completely convinced of his sincerity. Before he could explain what had just happened, Trist continued.

"I only ask for one thing." He said. The underground gnome was curious about the unusual elf's thoughts and let him continue.

"That panther," said Trist, "you will find that Kanhaifa is indeed a very useful companion and a very good friend. When I'm dead, you have to make sure that it will be handed over to a trustworthy master, perhaps Belvardi Senge. Good dwarf, I beg you to promise me this. ”

The underground gnome shook his head. It's not that he didn't agree to Trist's request, just because he couldn't believe it. "The King, out of deep remorse, cannot tolerate any risk to your survival," he said gloomily, but his big mouth turned to a smile, and he quickly added, "But things have changed!" ”

Trist looked up, he barely dared to hold out hope anymore.

"The Honored Master remembers you, Dark Elves," the Underground Gnome declared, "The Honored Prospecting Captain Belvadi Senge intercedes for you, and is willing to vouch for all possible risks. ”

"That'...... I'm not going to die? ”

"No, unless you seek your own death."

Trist was almost speechless: "So I can live with you?" Staying in Brindon Stone"

"It's still undecided." Snebri replied, "It's not a trivial matter for Belvadisinger to speak for you. You will live with him, as for what will happen in the future......" He didn't finish, only shrugged his shoulders, which was kind of a reply.

The journey after being released from the cell is truly a movement for a dark elf surrounded by a heavy surrounder. In Trist's eyes, every part of the landscape of Brindon Stone is in stark contrast to the city of Morsobly. The Dark Elf City decorates the caverns where the city is located with exquisite handicrafts; The underground gnome city is also full of beautiful carvings, but they try to preserve the natural features of the rocks. The Dark Elves transformed the caverns into a style unique to the Elves; Underground gnomes merge with naturally formed caverns.

The city of Morsoblye is spacious and tall, and the top of the cave is unsightly, beyond the reach of Brindon Stone. The city of Drow consists of a series of separate family castles, each of which is a closed fortress ruled by a single family. The underground dwarf city is like a whole home, and within the two huge gates made of mountain rock and metal, it seems that all the buildings are united into a community, working together to resist the dangers outside the door.

The angle is also a big difference between the two cities. Like all dwarf races, the arches and stairs of Brindon Stone are sleek and curvaceous. The city of Morsoblay is the complete opposite, full of stalagmite-shaped sharp angles, narrow alleys and high platforms. Trist argues that the stark contrast between the sharp and the rounded beneath the city's architecture is clearly a reflection of the character of its inhabitants, and he even ventures to assume that it reflects their hearts.

At the end of a remote corridor in the outer stone chamber is Belva's dwelling. It was a small stone chamber with an exit nearby that led to an even smaller cavern. Normally, the doors of underground gnome dwellings are open, but Belva's house has a front door.

The five guards escorting Trist to the door, one of them knocked on the door with the blunt end of the nail head NB343. "Good day, Honorary Prospecting Chief!" He greeted. "We have brought the Dark Elves by edict of King Shnitik."

Trist noticed the guard's respectful tone. Since that day more than a decade ago, he has been worried about Belva's safety, and he wonders if it is more merciful for a dwarf to die than to die with a broken arm. It is not easy for the crippled to survive in the wilderness and darkness.

The stone door opened, and Belva greeted the guests. He immediately made eye contact with Trist, as if he had seen an old friend he hadn't seen in more than ten years.

Trist saw a hint of gloom in Belva's eyes, but there was still stubborn pride. He didn't mean to look at the mutilation of the dwarfs underground; All painful memories stem from actions made many years ago. Still, his gaze fell along the dwarf's stout torso to his arms at his side.

When he saw Belva's "hands", his eyes widened in surprise, and all his previous worries were left behind. The arm on the right side fits into the end of a battle NB343's head, crafted from Mithril and etched with intricate inscriptions of the old script and other creatures Trist has never seen before.

The other side is no slouch. Belva's left arm is inlaid with a double-headed crane's beak spade, also made of mythril, and densely covered with ancient texts and carvings, most notably a dragon with wings spreading and flying covering the entire spade's blunt surface. Trist sensed the magic in Belva's hands, and immediately realized that both the Snebli Artisan and the Mage had worked both tools to perfection.

"It works." Jalwa asked Trist to study it for a while before he spoke.

"It's beautiful." Trist replied in a low voice, but he was thinking more than just NB343 and a spade. Belva's arms are truly breathtaking, but for Trist, there's something else to the masterpiece. Dark elves, especially males, who struggle to return to Morsoblay once they have mutilated their limbs, will be rejected by their families and become helpless outcasts, waiting for other slaves or elves to end their miserable fate. In the Drow civilization, there is no place for the weak. Here, apparently, Snebuli accepted Belva and did everything possible to give him the best possible care.

Trist politely raised his gaze to the Honorary Commander. "You remember me," he said, "I was worried."

"We'll talk later, Tristaduden. Jalvar interrupted him, then turned to the guard and said to him in Snebli he didn't understand, "If you complete your mission, please leave." ”

"Honorary Prospecting Chief, we are here to be sent by you." One of the guards replied. Trist noticed that Belva shuddered with disgust at the mention of his title. "The King has sent us to escort the Dark Elves and stay with you until the Dark Elves reveal his true colors."

"Then you can go," Jalwa replied, his voice evidently displeased. He then looked at Trist and said, "I already know the truth about this man, and he is no threat. ”

"I'm sorry, Honor"

"It's okay," Jalwa interrupted the guard, who knew he was going to argue. "You leave. I vouched for this man's intercession, I took care of him, and I was not afraid of him at all. ”

The guard bowed deeply, then slowly retreated. Belva led Trist through the door, then asked him to turn around, and secretly pointed out to him where the two guards were hiding and watching. "They worry too much about my health." He said lightly in Drow.

"They care about you so much, you should be grateful." Trist responded.

"I'm not ungrateful!" Jalwa roared, his face flushed with anger.

Trist knew he had something to say. It is true that Belva is not an ungrateful person; But he doesn't think he deserves to be in the limelight. Trist suppressed his curiosity so as not to anger the proud underground dwarf too much.

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