Grunda and the rest of the party approached their captives under his gaze, the black-jawed monster hissing like a lizard and grinning at Röma. Röm could tell that the monster was male, but he didn't want to admit that it had some dwarven traits - it was slightly lower than the average dwarf when it stood upright, but it had a wider body, and the extra width was all muscle. The scaly monster burrowed with strong claws that none of the Rohm gang had. The Black-Jawed Monster's face is a mix of dwarven and reptilian features. None of this was a surprise to the dwarves who captured it—the Blackjaws were of the same race as Rom and his comrades. Their ancestors are the Black Iron Dwarves, the abominable survivors of the Battle of the Three Hammers hundreds of years ago. Most of the Black Iron rebels were killed in that epic war of dwarves against dwarves. But rumor has been made that some of the dwarves have fled into Grimbaatar, and their leader, Queen Mordgood, cursed the place before she died. No one wanted to go to a magically cursed place to hunt down any enemy who might survive. Rumors are always rumors, and it is not until the misfortunes that Rohm encounters shortly after arriving here finally confirm their truth.

But whatever connection the Roma people have with the Black-Jawed Monster, they have long been drowned in the long river of history. While Black-Jawed monsters retain some similar body shape and facial features as dwarves, they have scales instead of bushy beards. Their teeth are actually more like lizards or even dragons, and their hands – or their claws – are more like these creatures. The monster captured by the dwarves can both walk on four legs and stand on two legs.

But that doesn't mean Blackjaw is just an animal. They are intelligent and cunning, adept at using weapons, and always have daggers and axes pinned to their belts, which have not changed since the Battle of the Three Hammers. There are also throwing, palm-sized spheres with spikes. They are usually thrown by hand, or thrown out with a chain. However, if provoked, they prefer to attack with their teeth and claws. The dwarves suffered greatly when they first encountered them. It proved that these guys were the descendants of the Black Iron Dwarves - and the scars of the treacherous family still bore on their clothes. Unfortunately, it was too difficult for Roma's men to catch one alive. The Blackjaws fought so fiercely. Three organized captures of the dwarves have failed, and each time a dwarf has lost his life.

The shadow of the loss of two excellent comrades-in-arms still hangs over the night. However, the last action did something, or at least he hoped it would be the end. Röm believed he had a clue to what that dark power was so terrifying that even dragons dreaded it, what was controlling the black-jawed monsters that were causing them to go to the fire, what was causing them to scream at this very moment.

The Black Palate flapped its claws as Rom approached with a low pitch, its gasping was terrifying, and the foul smell in its mouth no dwarf could stand. Röm discovers the difference between a black-jawed monster and a dwarf. This captive has two tongues. This change is clearly unnatural, and must be the distortion and mutation that has occurred during a long period of living in this place occupied by evil magic. The dwarven leader stared at it coldly, just as the monster looked at him with the same blood-red eyes. "You monster can talk," Röm murmured, "I've heard that before. The captive hissed, and then tried to leap forward, two strong guards handpicked by Rohm grabbing its arms, but still trying with all their might to hold the black-jawed monster in place. Röm took a deep puff of his pipe and spit it into the monster's face, the black-jawed monster sucking greedily. Obviously. Their obsession with tobacco hasn't changed. In fact, when the dwarves first searched for the corpse of a dead black-jawed monster, they found pipes carved out of clay instead of wood. As for what Blackjaws puts in his pipe, that's another question. The only thing found in the pipe smelled like moldy blades of grass or earthworms, and even the hardest members of the Roma team were reluctant to try it.

"You want to have some cigarettes, do you?" Rom blew into the black-jawed face again, "Okay then, let's talk, and see what we can do."

The captive screamed, and Röm sighed and said, "It seems that this form of conversation will only allow me to hand you over to Grunda and her two brothers, for whom you are like Gavabolton." You know the old saying, right? The blood ties between the dwarves are linked in many ways, and the clan is clearly the main one. But even without that. It is also the primary duty of all warriors to hunt down Gavabolton, who travel across Azeroth in search of their comrade's killer, and if they are lucky enough to find him, they will not mind torturing him to death in the slowest and most painful way. For Gavabolton, this is the end he deserves. Clan leaders don't openly praise it. But there will be no opposition to it either. It is part of the culture of dwarf society and is understandable to few outsiders. But the Black-Jawed Monster is clearly not an outsider. Its blood-red, wild eyes turned to Grunda, grinning, and then back to Rom.

"One last chance," he said, blowing again. "Can you speak in a language we can understand?" The black-jawed monster nodded.

Rohm hid his thoughts. He wasn't entirely lying about Grunda and her brother, and he might get nothing by handing over the captives to a few of them. That's right. Grunda would do everything he could to try to pry words out of the mouth of the ugly monster, but he had to think that the three of them would torture the black-jawed monster to death before they could catch Gavaboton.

Röm gave Grunda one last glance to hint at what would happen to the captive if it didn't answer any more questions, and then said to it, "Sneaky fellow! Your companion brought her something, and now the roar of a dragon echoes everywhere in Grimbaatar, but there have been no dragons in months. What the hell is she there for?"

"Its Salen......" The black-jawed monster uttered a word hoarsely, as if it had done everything it could. 'Qi Salen'

"For the sake of my father's beard, what is his Salen?" The big guy' the captive roared, its tongue sticking in and out, "It's big inside, not outside"

"What the hell is this beast spewing about? it's playing tricks on us!" One of Grunda's brothers roared. Despite not being twin brothers, the two of them resemble each other more than most other dwarves. Rohm was always troubled by the fact that he couldn't tell who was Graggedin and who was Grigas. But either of them was now furious and hoisting their axes to the top of the tunnel, charging at the monster as far as they could. The Blackjaw hissed again and struggled. Grunda blocked her angry brother, "No, Grigas. Wait! put the axe down for me right now!"

Grigas backed down at his sister's admonition. She was the mistress and they were all her hounds, and Gragaudin, like his brother, did not dare to make a mistake. Grunda turned to Blackjaw, "But if this beast is so worthless in the future, it will definitely be

Röhm tried to restrain himself. I smoked the last bit of tobacco. He poured out the ashes and whispered, "Okay, I'll give you another chance, maybe a different conversation will lead you to the right path." He thought for a moment, then said, "Maybe there's a big guy and his kind around here." ”

His construction caused the black-jawed monster to have an unsettling reaction. At first, Rohm felt like he was suffocating by something. Then he realized that the damn monster was actually laughing. Röm raised his dagger and stabbed it into the black-jawed monster's brown, scaly jaw, but even then, it didn't go limp.

"Listen, you toad-bred bastard, I didn't wait for them to do anything to skin you, and then'

The roof of the cave suddenly collapsed, and the dwarves scattered everywhere to avoid dozens of tons of falling stones. Breaking in was a three-headed behemoth, armed in bronze armor and with more scales than the Blackjaw. These astonishing beasts, nearly nine feet tall, according to Roma's estimate, were more terrifying and incredible than the descendants of the Black Iron Dwarves.

'What is this?' A dwarf was split in half by a sharp blade from his waist and armor.

Roma knew what they were, if they could describe it in words. But it was Grunda who shouted the monster's name, "Dragonman!"

She raised her axe and lunged forward. The black dragonman warrior looked like a dragon and a human evil merge. It slashed at Grunda with its blood-stained blade. When the weapons of both sides touched, the axes, made from the best skills of the dwarves, shattered like droplets of water.

It was Rohm's agility that saved her life. He lunged at the behemoth almost at the same time as Grunda, and pushed her away just in time. Unfortunately, the narrowness of the tunnel didn't give him enough room to dodge the blade that was supposed to be swung at Grunda.

The dwarf screamed, his wrist burning as if it were burning. He watched in amazement as his hands were chopped off to the ground, trampled under the dragonman's three-toed hooves. If there's one lucky thing in this terrible injury, it's that the blade of magic also disinfects the wound. With the dwarves' strong endurance, Röm threw the axe with all his might. Cutting through the gap in the armor on the drakeman's shoulder, the draconian let out a painful roar and retreated.

Bursts of laughter reached Rom's ears, like those of the Black-Jawed Monster. Or something more evil. The sound is getting farther and farther away. Röm turned his head with difficulty and saw that the guard at the place where the prisoner had just been held was dead, his round eyes had lost their light, and his throat had been sliced open. Their axes were still behind their backs, and their daggers were still stuck in their belts, as if they were standing there slaughtered alive.

Maybe it was the wrong one to see the black-jawed monster standing in the place where the black-jawed monster came from. Rather, he is a man as tall as a human being. His body was even thinner, and his long pointed ears were enough to reveal his identity. But his crimson robes and glowing green eyes—demonic traits made Rom marvel at his own stupidity. He was dealing with a blood elf. What had been a plan to capture the captives that he thought would be able to obtain information ended up in a trap set for the dwarves, and his heart began to beat at the sight of his men being slaughtered, or perhaps worse, captured back to Grimbaatar.

A cry echoed through the tunnel, and he rushed towards the blood elves. The tall man looked contemptuously at the strong dwarf rushing towards him, raised a hand, and conjured up a strange wooden fence with the edges branched out, and in the center was a huge emerald in the shape of a skull, the color of a green magical orb around the blood elves.

Röm is bounced back and hits the wall behind him. When he fell to the ground, the howl of pain was enough to deafen any human or elf. He vaguely saw that the other dwarves were still desperately fighting against the powerful dragonmen, but it didn't seem that the dragonmen were unstoppable, but that his men were slow. Grum, a warrior second only to Rom in agility, now the axe in his hand seemed to be heavier than his own body, "Blood Elf, it must have been done by the Blood Elf" Rom struggled to stand up, but his body was no longer obedient.

But worse than death for Rohm is the disappointment of his king. He had sworn to Magni Copperbeard to discover Grimbaatar's secrets, but his mission had failed. The humiliation caused him to struggle to his feet, but he couldn't straighten his legs, and the Blood Elf didn't care about Rom anymore, which was just another humiliation for him.

Rom grabbed his axe, enduring the spell and the pain of the wound. A roar suddenly came from high above the tunnel, and the sound shook the walls. The Blood Elves were visibly shocked. Shouting, 'Get up, hurry!' before he runs away!'

The dragon warriors crouched and jumped out of the tunnel. Compared to their sheer size, their agility is amazing. The Blood Elf struck the staff twice on the ground and disappeared into a flash of golden flames.

Röhm suddenly found himself able to barely move, albeit with a lot of effort. They counted the battle, and at least three of them were dead, and the others were wounded, and he suspected that the dragonmen had not only been slashed once or twice each, but the injuries were insignificant to them. If it weren't for that mysterious roar, the dwarves would have been completely defeated. Grunda and one of her brothers came to help him, the female warrior drenched with sweat, 'Can you still go?'

'Well, I can still run! ‘

At this time, it is not a cowardly expression to run away quickly. No one knew if the Blood Elves and Dragonmen would come back as quickly as they left. The dwarves are now exhausted and in dire need of retreat to a shelter where they can adjust and rest.

'Go to the sloping passage.' Röm ordered, the path was far away from Grimbaatar, but he thought it was their best bet. The land was full of rich veins of white crystals, crystals that were so sensitive to magic that even a mage like the Blood Elves couldn't detect them. On a certain distance, the scouts there are invisible, but not invincible. Know that no place is completely safe.

With Grunda's help, Roma led his companions to escape safely. He looked at the wounded followers and saw once again clearly how much a small struggle had cost them. Without that roar, in gratitude for the sudden intervention, Röhm wondered as to the origin of this aid. He wondered if the apparent salvation was a sign of something worse. (To be continued.) )