What the eldest son of the red dragon may not know is that there is another dragonborn who is suffering from a cold similar to his. Pen % fun % Pavilion www.biquge.info

The waters of the Seventy-Seven Islands are as black as an abyss, the gray-white mist on the surface of the sea lingers all day long, and the ships that dare to pass here have to face not only skeletons, ghosts, and undead, but also strange celestial phenomena and reefs and seaweed in the waters—the Seventy-Seven Islands have a mystery of emerald groves and silver-crowned forests, and the undead often modify and make up for them, but perhaps the most distinctive feature is the lingering breath of death in between. Within the reach of the Locks, the fish in the water, the birds in the sky, even the insects or the oysters at the bottom of the ship can quickly lose their last ounce of life without the permission of the lichs, and here, even the wind, even the waves, are quiet, as quiet as death, the sails cannot be blown, and the ship can move on the runes or the oars driven by manpower. In the bilge that does not see the light of day, almost all are strong slaves - if they have not lost the right to choose, no one with the slightest sense and insight will want to enter this world that does not belong to the living, they are shackled to stools and oars, they are given liquor and meat every day, and even then they will quickly weaken.

Then there are the tall seaweeds, which wrap around the oars like a woman's arm, and if they were outside the Seventy-Seven Islands, sailors would jump off the ship and cut through these annoying little things with knives, but in the Seventy-Seven Islands, if anyone did jump into the water, the lich-raised octopuses, venomous sea snakes, eels, eels and stingfish would swim up with the skeletons that were hiding in the seaweed and attack them. No matter how tough a sailor is, he can't get away with it, except for those who seem to have human intelligence, these skeletons are almost all fish-people, and even without their smooth skin, scales, powerful muscles, and tail, the sea is still their eternal family.

Ostal looked into the distance, and he could already see through the mist the black islands, hidden in the sea, each with its edge like the fangs of the devil.

Further, even the slaves in the bilge were silent, they no longer had to swing their oars, but instead there was a sudden cold, which made their hair tips and eyelashes condense into white frost, and they clung to the fur given by their master, and drank the spirits, unaware that hundreds of fish-man skeletons had gathered around them, and they were clustered around the ship and pushed it forward at a much faster speed than when they pulled up the canvas or the slaves rowed, and the metallic gray, or the white jawbones spewed pure negative energy around themEven the octopuses and sea snakes that were fed by their owners have disappeared.

The ship dropped its anchor a few hundred feet from the shoal, and the boat was lowered to send the daring living into the realm of the undead. As soon as Ostahl's feet touched the clam-white shallows, he realized that they were no ordinary sand, if I had to say anything - the sand on the shallows was all bone.

"I want you to know what you're doing. Said the gray robe who brought Ostar here. Luckily, or given the nature of the Grenada people, Ostahl has a close friendship with several of the inhabitants of the Seventy-Seven Islands, such as the Grey Robe, one of the most dearest disciples of the lich on this island - contrary to what one might think, the undead of the Seventy-Seven Islands don't mind being disturbed (as long as they don't do it in a pinch), and although they have given up the bodies of the living, their souls are still magical, and no research can be without the necessary curiosity - Moreover, for them, the living are also food, research materials, and important sacrifices.

And in the Seventy-Seven Islands, there are almost no laws and morals, and even the so-called covenants and covenants, if they are not subject to magic, are just dead letters, and the incompetent weak shouting that things should not be like this will only invite merciless ridicule and ridicule - like the gray robe that brought Ostar here, it is enough to be a friend to be able to remind him of this.

"We always have something to do. Ostar said, and then handed the Grey Robe a bag of about half a dozen soul gems, which was more than they had agreed upon, but it did a good job in keeping a Grey Robe from changing his previous decision so quickly. Grey nodded happily to Ostal and said, "Come with me," he said, "but I can't guarantee that my mentor will be willing to see you." I mean, you're not a sacrifice or an experiment. ”

Ostar, perhaps for telling a terrible joke, smiled at the right time, but to the disappointment of the grey robe, he did not look frightened or frightened.

Ostal knew he was acting a little crazy, as a Dragonborn, he had also received an edict from the Temple, and for the first time he had disobeyed Gredi's will, simply because he needed to support an idea that he couldn't even capture clearly - he didn't know what he was looking for, but he knew that if he could, then most likely, he could destroy the black-haired Dragonborn - Almost from the moment he was seen, Ostarr should have known that he was going to be a danger, both for Grenada and for Gredi.

The Grey-robed Mentor is a lich, and in the Seventy-Seven Islands, she (yes, she was originally a charming female mage) is not inferior, or rather, any female lich, perhaps women rarely have the tenacity to transform themselves into a skeleton of bones, and watch the negative energy corrode their bodies into a mass of black wool, even the old ones. As a result, they are always treated with more respect, and the male lichs will make concessions on minor issues - for example, the undead have a midnight tea party initiated by the female lichs, and every lich who is invited will not mind trying some abyssal crystallized cakes or demonic blood tea whenever they can.

Of course, Ostal chose this lich as his breakthrough because she had some contact with Ostahl (in the form of magic). Ostal must say that although she is already a skeleton full of negative energy, she is still a charming lady - and it is because of this meager connection that she will not refuse to meet or kill Ostahl outright.

Probably so......

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The eldest son of the red dragon retrieved his hand from the multicolored metal disc, his fingers still tingling with an eerie chill, his brow furrowed, his green eyes reflecting the scene in front of him - and the metal disc reflected another person.

"Danos. He said.

Danos, as a dragonborn with strong blood, can almost be said to have been put into the ranks of the summoning, he regretted that he should not have exposed his bloodline so quickly, but then he thought that every dragonborn of Grenada could not escape Gredi's eyes, at this time he was a little envious of Ostar, everyone knew that Ostar's loyalty to Grendy was as unshakable as the existence of a magic galaxy, but he gave up his oath at the last moment. Danos wondered if this had something to do with the name he had stolen from the little devil Asmodeos, but the question was, was Ostahl really reckless enough to go to the Seventy-Seven Islands to find the secret hidden behind Cremar?

Danos still thought that Ostahl might have known before them, or sensed something they didn't know, so he ran away and did it shamelessly, not even telling Danos and the others, but all Grenadas do, so Danos didn't think much about this man except for a moment to think about how he would pour out his anger if he could catch Ostar.

"We are all waiting for you, Your Highness. Danos said.

The eldest son of the red dragon turned around, "Is there anyone who hasn't arrived?" Because his identity was not allowed to be revealed at first, so in the previous month, as the eldest son of the red dragon, he had not received much respect, but soon, his sense of crisis outweighed his caution, and he used force and dragon power to intimidate most of the dragonborn, and forced them to obey his orders- There is no need to continue to consume, they are just some strong non-humans until they step out of the Dead Magic Zone, and outside of the Dead Magic Zone, there are Warlocks and Dragonborns who are just as powerful as them, and they will not be released until Gredy gives his will.

Danos said some names, and then he paused: "And," he said, "His Highness Mitkot and His Highness Cremar." ”

"Mitkot has decided to bow his knee to me," said the eldest son of the Red Dragon, "As for Cremar...... "The best thing is probably that this mongrel with filthy bloods is still indulging in the wonderful dreams that Gredy has created for him, and is ignorant of the looming crisis, but his instincts tell him that the black-haired broodborn is not as naïve and dull as it seems- His behavior also illustrates this, before he was brought back to Grenada's royal capital by Ostal he could be said to be empty-handed, unconnected, no subordinates, no favors, not even pure blood, when he chose to let a few beast slaves serve as guards, about two-thirds of Grenada were laughing at him, of course, the other third of them might have wanted him to die, but then what? Although it was difficult for the eldest son of the red dragon to even leave his lair at that time, he still had ears and eyes, first the new king, then Gredi, and the Warlock Tower and the Seventy-Seven Islands, not to mention a fluke, if it was a fluke, even the eldest son of the red dragon would want to come to a dozen- One by one, his enemies retreated or fell, including his haughty sister, and in less than a decade, the black-haired Dragonborn were able to control their fate rather than die as quickly as one might think.

So, is it because he still refuses to be complicit with the others because he has a path that no one else can see or find?'s eldest son was silent for a moment, "Tell them I'll be coming soon," he put his hands on his sleeves, "I'll go talk to Cremar." ”

Danos bowed humbly and withdrew.

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The former undead sat in his room, which, of course, was ornately decorated and generous, unlike the other dragonborns.

However, despite the gorgeous decoration, because all the magical elements here will be eliminated, some places, such as the mythril thread on the cushion, the magic gems inlaid on the pendant, and the magic ink used to copy the scroll, have lost their original soft luster and vivid colors, and look no different from ordinary metal, stone and ink. Of course, it doesn't matter, there is no way to copy magic scrolls, or make runes, or magic paraphernalia here. Thinking of this, an eerie smile appeared on the lich's face, although it was just an excuse, it was still quite interesting to watch the groups of arrogant dragonborn toil with their hands like human slaves they regarded as dung - he, he didn't care, in the Seventy-Seven Islands, every lich must have the same skills as the royal craftsmen, after all, it is unlikely that a lively bazaar will be built there, and there are many things that need to be done by their own hands.

Then he heard some voices, and he certainly couldn't use magic to warn himself when all magic would fail, but the cordon that had been touched was less than ten feet from his door, and it was clear that the one who came was not a reckless weakling.

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