It's a vast, cold, intimidating land.

Only one-sixth of the year does the sun shine here, and the sand and mud covered with moss and lichen are subtracted by one-sixth of the sixth, and the rest is occupied by fine-leaved mosses, spiny beans, needlespears, and some as-yet-unnamed grasses and low shrubs, and you may also see figs, birches, Aspen and larch, but without exception, they are slow-growing, dwarf, and oddly shaped, and sometimes even the most experienced druids cannot tell what kind of plant they are at first sight.

The cyan and green colors of their bodies will only remain for a maximum of sixty days, and the rest of the time, the leaves of the trees will fall and the grass will shrunk and turn yellowish-brown, until the first snow of winter turns them all white.

Months of extremely low temperatures, high winds and blizzards followed—during which time any limb that had not been encased in heavy fur would become stiff if exposed to air for more than a hundred strokes. Pale and can be easily knocked off your body, you can't touch metal objects with your bare hands, as long as they stick to your warm skin for a moment, and tear off a layer of skin if you want to take them off directly, the only proper solution is to urinate on it, this is enough heat to get you out of trouble, but if you bite your own dagger in your mouth like some careless fool - even if it is only for a moment, you don't want to accept the caster's help or taste someone else's "taste" His lips, face, and gums were bleeding as he pulled it down.

Everything will become hard and brittle, and you will need twice or three times as much food to afford the average job, but every creature here is so fierce and swift that all you can catch is the larvae hidden under the bark of the tree, and you are often tired and eager to rest, and even if you know that you should gather firewood and light it so that you don't freeze to death, you will also sit there numb, motionless, waiting for real relief.

Because of this, humans, elves, goblins, and giants can hardly stay here for long, only orcs like bears, wolves, and horned deer, who are naturally covered in fur.

The mage stood outside the tent, staring at a horned deer that three or four young orcs were trying to catch, five hundred pounds, with branch-like horns stretched out as long as an adult human male, and its wide, floppy hooves trampling haphazardly on the yellow-green muddy ground, struggling to keep themselves from falling—the young orcs had no weapons, only sharp claws and teeth that lacked length and hardness, and their fur was not as thick as that of adult orcs, so they could not bite through the strong neck of the horned deer, Careful avoidance of the antlers that resembled daggers and the hooves of the deer, which seemed to be covered with reddish-brown bristles on both its face and the top of its head, turned behind it as his companion continued to rush forward to distract its prey with scratching and biting, and stretched out an arm that was also full of hair, but with long fingers and thick nails, and plunged deep between the horned deer's rumps, pulling out its intestines in an instant.

The horned deer wailed and ran out like mad, its intestines drooping on the ground, trampled by its own hooves, and the young orcs ran with it, howling so loudly that the horned deer fell down before it had gone far, and they immediately pounced on it, tore open its defenseless belly, and drank its blood and ate its heart and breast.

"What a bunch of good little cubs, huh?" A voice that was more like barking than talking suddenly sounded from behind the mage, and an orc who was nearly half a body taller than the mage looked down at the spellcaster with impunity, his steps were the lightest in the entire tribe, and he didn't even want to alarm the fish under the ice - he did this only to intimidate the outsider, but he didn't know that the mage had already released his other "eyes" And even without it, the mage would never mistake the strong stench that could be easily discerned from a thousand feet away, but he still made a satisfying expression of surprise and fear: "...... Needless to say," he said, "they will be a strong and brave bunch of warriors." ”

The orc triumphantly pulled his lips back, revealing all his teeth, "The chief and priest told you to go to their tent. He said that he was one of the few warriors in the tribe, so he was allowed to wear a chain mail, and had two weapons, a shield—the smell of fresh blood not far away made him swell with closed holes, and clear saliva flowed, and if it weren't for the orders of the chiefs and priests, perhaps he would have swooped down and chased away the little cubs, and feasted on them.

The mage followed him into the priest's tent, and in fact, he could find where he needed to go, even if there was no one to lead him—the tent was larger than the tribal leader's, the poles around the tent were covered with shrunken elven heads, and their blonde hair was greased with special treatment, still retaining the silky and bright texture of the brocade they had when they were alive.

The thinned and faded sunlight shone down from the tent's roof, but in the center of the tent was a small bonfire, and the priest, who looked shrive and thin compared to the tall, muscular leader, sat cross-legged in front of the fire, the flames illuminating his face, and a row of small bottles in front of his knees.

The mage bowed to the priest and leader, and then sat down across from them calmly: "How?" he asked, "Honorable Priest Oakes, honorable leader, have you achieved the result you wanted?"

"This is the elves' water of life. "Priest Oakes said that his lingua franca was so pure that if you closed your eyes, you wouldn't feel like you were talking to an orc.

"Elves and half-elves of Grey Ridge," said the mage, "we have lost a great deal of power for this. ”

"If a hundred cowards and half-bloods can be called a great loss," said the chief, who sat to the left of the priest, slowly, "then I just have to wonder if it is time to continue the trade between us." ”

"Of course the master of the Black-Blood Tribe, with a thousand slaves and five hundred warriors, can say so," the mage said with a smile, "I don't mind you paying the bill with the latter, I guarantee that they will be treated well in our guild and will be able to taste the blood at all times and sharpen their axes on the bones of their enemies." ”

"Warriors definitely can't. The chief said.

"Slaves are fine. The mage said.

"Neither can slaves. The priest said, "If the potion made really works, we can give you gold and precious stones." ”

"Ah......" said the mage, "what a disappointment...... I thought I could recruit a group of strong and fierce warriors for the guild - you wouldn't even give slaves because ...... Are you ready to wage war against humanity?"

In an instant, the leader of the Black Blood Tribe jumped up, his hair open in rage, his body even larger, casting a shadow that completely enveloped the mage, and he let out a hoarse roar from his throat, and his mouth was filled with corrosive saliva, and his teeth were itching unless they were washed with hot blood and fresh flesh—but the next moment, his movements suddenly stopped, as a pitch-black two-headed serpent emerged from the mage's arms, revealing two more terrible fangs to him.

The priest of Ox stood up at a speed not in the slightest match for his apparent age, he took the herb out of his skin and recited an ode to their god, the magic filled the air, if the Animos were an ordinary snake, it would have fallen asleep at the first time, but to their surprise, it shrieked loudly, spewed venom into the fire, the smoke turned purple, the priest and the leader clutched their throats and fell to the ground, and the situation changed completely.

The mage made a gesture to make sure that no one outside the tent heard the movement inside: "Don't panic too much," he said gently, "I'm just a businessman, a businessman who is not interested in anything other than business. He said, "Shall we move on?"

He ordered the Animos to detoxify the two orcs, and the Animos landed on the leader's neck without consent, his teeth pressed against his furry ears: "I think his ears must be brittle," it hissed, "what do you think, master?"

"When our business is done," said the mage, "I think you'll have plenty of ears to eat, what do you say, Chief?"

"How do you know we're going to wage war against humanity?"

"If you don't wage war against humanity, your tribe will be devastated. "As far as I know," said the mage, "you have been confined to the Dragon's Belly Pass for ten years, and I have seen your warriors herding their own cattle - your human slaves are almost all dead, your weapons and paraphernalia are rusty, your robes are in tatters, and there is no salt or sugar in the meat that serves me...... And this year it's been so hot again, and as I go, the frozen ground is melting, the snow seeps into the ground, the lakes are mostly gone, the pastures are swamps, the rivers and lakes don't have the thick ice for you and your herds to walk on, your deer and sheep can't find enough grass to eat or move around, I see you slaughtering them in large numbers before they starve and die, but if you can eat them before the meat rots and melts, how are you going to spend your winter? In the winter when you need twice or three times as much meat and can't hunt?"

"You're going to go to war and rob humans of food or humans, after all, humans are your food. But the question is, do you think you're strong enough to break through the Dragon's Belly Pass, and even if you can unite with a few other big tribes, as far as I can see, they're not much better off than you - your elite warriors were wiped out in the Battle of Thunder Castle ten years ago, and this place is full of newborn orcs from the war, and their minions are still very young. ”

"Clever human tongue," said the priest of Oches, "the ...... you have brought Isn't that what the potion is for?" he held up a small bottle, the water of life inside glowing like molten gold.

"You can try it," said the mage, "the recipe for this potion comes from the Red Robe, and he has done hundreds of experiments. ”

"Human, or orc?"

"I have no comment on that," the mage said slyly, "I can only guarantee that the potion will work—do you have a potion base ready?"

"I killed the last few human slaves I had. The priest of Oches said, "My favorite slave girl and the wisest and most experienced shepherd." ”

"You'll get more. The mage said.

"If my people die," said the chief, "I will hang your head in front of my tent—the priest of Ochs will let my brother inherit my place." ”

The mage just smiled lightly.

The young orc, covered with brownish-red bristle-like hair, was called into the priest's tent, his eyes shining in the dim tent, his hair standing on end with nervousness, and when he saw the priest, he respectfully crawled over on all fours, licking his exposed toes, and then the chief.

Priest Oakes scooped a bowl of black water from a large clay jar and added something shiny to it, "Drink," he said.

Without hesitation, the young orc took the cup and drank the liquid inside, it was blood, he smacked his tongue, human blood, but it was strange, as if it had been stored for a long time, and it looked like it had just spurted out of a vein.

It didn't take long for him to feel hungry - but he remembered that he had just eaten the entire front of a deer.

The Ox priest and the leader closely watched the situation of the young orc—he scratched his face with a strange expression, and a large strand of hair fell down his skin.

The leader jumped to his feet again, ignoring the Animos' teeth and clenched body, but the priest of Ox waved his hand and forced him to sit down.

Then they heard a very strange sound, the first time they had heard it, but which they would probably never forget—the sound of skin, muscle, and bones growing, old hair falling out, new hair growing again, muscles stretching and bulging under the new skin, bones gurgling, the young orc fell to the ground in convulsions, convulsions, pain making his eyes turn red, sweat, tears, and saliva soaking the priest's carpet.

When all the growth was finally over, the young orc, or rather a new, full-grown strong orc, stood up blankly, and he looked at the mage as if he saw a piece of delicious meat, and he pounced on it, desperately.

The mage solved the minor problem by casting a small spell: "This is probably the only drawback," he waited until the Priest and the leader of Oakes looked nervous before he said, "They will be hungry when the change is complete, but just provide them with enough food." ”

The leader asked his guards to move the newborn orc out, ordering him a whole deer, and the Ox priest was silent for a long time, "How many cubs do we have?" he asked.

The leader frowned, he was not good at calculating: "Probably...... There are a thousand of them. ”

"How much water of life do you have left?" Priest Oakes asked the mage.

"A lot. The mage said.

By the time the mage left the Black Blood Tribe, it was already the third day, and the newborn warriors had eaten up the deer and sheep that had been slaughtered in advance, and the leader of the Black Blood Tribe needed more weapons, which was another big business. He sent the news to his guild and turned to another large tribe.

The harsh sound of the wind blew in his ears, straightening his cloak—the orcs thought it came from the trumpets of their gods, or the cries of the souls of their enemies, but the mages had long known that it was only the "whistle" of the wind from the bitter cold that had pierced through the hollows of the rocky mountains, which were scattered across the desolate plains, which the orcs called Rib Rock, and the humans called Dragonrib Rock, hence the name of the Screaming Plains.

The Animos hid in his arms and fell asleep, insisting that it needed to hibernate when the mage woke it up.

"You are not a snake," said the mage helplessly, "you are the devil, Animos. The temperature of the mortal world does not affect you. ”

"A devil's snake. Animos said.

"I wonder what happened to Asmodeos?" said the mage, as if inadvertently.

Then he was pleased to see the Animos swoop out of his bosom, "To hell with it!" it cried out hoarsely, "I am your servant!"

So what happened to our little devil, Asmodeos?

It was caught, tightly, hands with fourteen knuckles crossed into a tight cage, and it tried to erect its hairs—each of which was actually a hollow venom-filled stinger, or a shadow or sludge slipping away, but failed.

The feeling of the cold and hard of the hands that seemed to tear them apart at any moment was all too familiar—but before Asmodeos could think of where it was coming from, it saw the lips of the man who had grabbed it move slightly.

This is probably one of the most dangerous moves a mage can make.

Author's Note:

Because it was hard to break as I wrote, the chapters of the two days were combined.

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