Sand is the force of death and resurrection, sand is their magic, they need sand, they can't live without sand. The sand follows them wherever they go. The flow of sand does not stop until the carriage comes to a stop, and when the wheels roll again, the flow of sand resumes.
The beings who came back from the dead did not see the child sitting on the roadside, they did not see the child due to its smaller size. And the child's life and death are completely meaningless to them. They don't see the child's bare hands and feet. They don't know how susceptible the child will be when the sand comes into contact with the child's skin and when the child inhales dust particles. The influence of the sand and the wind of Shaxu.
For beings who have risen from the dead, crossing the bridge is a must, other times they take smaller paths and wider alleys. If not necessary, they will come into contact with fewer people. If necessary, they will come into contact with a smaller number of people in more private and secluded places. They will come into closer contact, perhaps fatally intimate contact. But there will be no surprises because they will be in control of the situation.
The carriage did not sway or wander, it just moved forward slowly at the same speed, the wheels turning non-stop, never stopping. There is no need to stop or even slow down when the carriage turns a corner; it seems to drive in a natural gap no matter what the road conditions are.
The sand rustled and hissed, and the beasts of burden in front of the carriage worked relentlessly, tirelessly, without stopping, without roaring, as if there was no end to time, and everything was frozen.
The beast of burden, with its limbs bound, hardly knew how to stop, and the wheels of the carriage showed no sign of stopping. The yoke hit the yard wall, and the wheel kept spinning, hissing with sand, until the sand was buried deep in the hub of the wheel and could no longer move it.
The never-ending carriage stopped and became motionless, as if it had been there for a hundred or a thousand years, perhaps longer. Although the carriage stopped, the work of Miket and his entourage was about to begin.
A dozen young men and two children working in the leather workshop died in an instant. They didn't know what kind of blow they had received, they didn't know what they had experienced. Everyone died quickly, and their blood flowed from the It sprayed out from the body and filled the entire workshop. Under the influence of the magic brought by the stranger, their bodies dried quickly, their splashed blood turned into dust, the workshop became silent and suffocating, and even the liquid and matches that cooked the leather turned into dust. ash.
The smaller Miket shed his outer garments, revealing his restraints and skeleton beneath, a gold belt older than time, yellower than bone, and decorated with turquoise scarabs hanging from his pelvis.
Then the second being who resurrected from the dead also took off his disguise. His hands and feet were not bound by layers of rags, and he moved quickly and easily. After adjusting the amulet on his chest, he joined Miket's ranks. , unlike Miket, he is a Lich Priest.
The other followers and warriors were just like when they were walking on the road before. They were not as clumsy as Hasker's followers. They moved the clay pots off the carriage in an orderly and rhythmic manner. Their pace was calm and there was no mistake. , again they did not waver, but remained steadfast, as if every movement was inevitable, as if they had been programmed eons ago, before time began, and the order of things was predestined.
The attendants and warriors picked up the pots, hoisted them on their shoulders, crossed the courtyard into the chamber, and carried them directly into the cellar, where they were laid out.
The Lich Priest looked at the clay pot with satisfaction. He waved his staff and swept away everything else in the cellar. The food melted and piled up on the floor. The drinking water burst and overflowed as the clay pot broke. The pickled meat Categories and eggs disappeared in the dry air, and soon only dust remained of the cellar's original contents.
In addition to the staff, the Lich Priest's other hand also holds a religious blade. The handle is made of some kind of large but fine-boned animal long bone. The back end of the handle is composed of a scepter. , the curved blade was made of pure gold, the honed edge sparkling in the dim light of the cellar. With hieroglyphics carved into the inside of the curve of the blade and a series of spikes on the leading edge, it was a double-ended weapon, making the blade extremely dangerous when wielded by an experienced combatant.
As the two attendants piled the last pots with strange markings and ancient wax seals into the cellar, the Lich Priest waved his staff again and drove it into the brick wall of the cellar.
As the Lich Priest wields his blade, each brick in the wall is marked, carved with a unique symbol when chiselled. These symbols represent flying scarabs or winged locusts, scorpions, spiders or snakes. Ever since the carriage rolled into the yard, the irreversible passage of time has left the mortar between the bricks slowly flowing.
When the heavy blade connected with the wall, the scattered bricks floated from the ground in all directions and returned to the wall in an almost inverted form. The Lich Priest always stood in place, and then the bricks fell out of the wall again. Erupting and swirling around him, followers and warriors stretched and nimbly dodged, moving among the flying bricks.
Behind the basement lies a secret space long buried in oblivion. The residents of Altdorf do not know the existence of space, and even if they do know it, it is like people's memories, left in the distant past. A huge golden base stands in the center of the room, seemingly growing seamlessly out of the ground and bursting with golden light. The base faces south, and turquoise, gold, bone white, and arterial blood red inlay the walls, creating various patterns that cycle through again and again.
Ornate golden candlesticks lined the bases, each carved with a coat of arms and hung with ancient banners stained with the dust of time, bearing witness to battles fought long ago and deeply forgotten. This room is both a sacred shrine and final resting place, with the passage of time and ancient splendor etched deeply into its walls.
Altdorf is a magical place. There are not only humans and dwarves here, but also elves, Skaven, undead, ogres, tomb kings and other biological or racial activities. However, there are some differences in the ways and locations of their activities. Subtle differences.
The Lich Priest's jaw fell open, and the words that came out of his mouth were unlike anything a human had ever heard or spoken. The sound lacks real breathiness and is almost impossible to accurately describe in words, as if the sound doesn't begin or end in any meaningful way.
There are rituals that need to be performed, many of which are wordless. However, some end-of-time rituals require language so that they can be completed accurately.
In a space where no vocal cords exist, the sound produced is like that of an instrument that has been dried to the point of being made from the cheapest strings used by the poorest luthier, leaving little more than a harsh rattle. It's hard to imagine any cadence or rhythm in the sound when the instrument is made from a pair of ancient, fleshless bones and is hollow inside, with strings hardened and taut as if from millennia in the desert.
Fortunately, the Lich Priest's skull and chest are extremely large. He uses these structures to move air in the hardened tissue to generate a frequency. Although the sound is very discordant and the layering is very strange, it can at least make a sound, and it is still low. , rather than sharp.
When the sound occurs, the air in the cellar begins to move and dust washes over the cellar walls, creating more particles. The dust swept away the bricks which fell to the ground again, and in just a few minutes the bricks were corroded, these particles and specks joining the dust storm that raged around the cellar, destroying all surfaces.
The Lich Priest continued to recite the spell, and the raging storm around him continued to expand. The air replacement in the room increased the volume and intensity of his words. These words swept through his chest, flowed out of his mouth, and flowed from his The ribs squeezed between his vertebrae, like the harsh squeak of a badly tuned lute. Soon the Lich Priest shut his mouth, but the rattling in the air continued, mingling with similar sounds made by the bones and connective tissue of other Tomb Kings. He raised his arms high, holding his staff in his right hand, and the wind turned the sand and dust into an impenetrable cloud, forming a spinning tornado that gathered around his form. At the center of the storm, the air becomes still, the surrounding air stops flowing, and all movement is absorbed into the vortex. In the vortex of gravel particles, the sound gradually died down, leaving only the hiss and rustle of dust and sand moving through the air and rubbing against each other.
In the evening, pale yellow smoke and light enveloped Dongcheng District, as if Dongcheng District had been abandoned for some reason. At first, the human residents thought this was a normal phenomenon...
Gilead, who was wandering around Stephen Franz Academy, found a low The lawn rippled, then became smooth, then faded away to gray, and he noticed obvious cracks in the earth that turned into what would eventually become yellow sand.
A long line of scarabs crawled about the streets, but the bugs were completely unnoticed and undisturbed. Bugs and reptiles gathered in swarms, unnoticed and unnoticed.
The bugs had no idea that they had been dormant before, trapped in stone, steel and wood, trapped in words, paint and pictures. They don't know what they are or where they are. All they know is that they have just awakened, that they have been awakened for a purpose, they know what that purpose is and why, they know who they serve and why, and they have no doubts about it.
Residents in Dongcheng District felt a silence. Everyone felt that the air was too dry, the dense fog had disappeared, and the water was too plain and too still, but no one talked about it.
Mothers noticed that their babies had no tears, runny noses, or drooling. They found themselves uncontrollably thirsty, their eyes were dry from dust, red, swollen and painful, and their skin had lost its former plumpness. When they look at their hands, the few women who still harbor the vanity wonder why their skin looks so dry and aged, and their nails so rough and flaking.
Women wondered why their hair was curling and flying away, even though there was no wind. They want to know why the gums seem to be receding and the teeth are becoming wider. They look at their reflections, touch their faces, and wonder why they look so old.
Men wonder why they don't sweat or poop, and why their eyes hurt when they blink. They want to know where they can find a glass of liquid to soothe their dry mouth and throat.
Humans should do more than marvel, they should gather, they should board up doorways and windows, they should hide or protect themselves. They did not look down to see Jia Cong, nor did they look up to see the iridescent wings of the locust. They did not notice that the symbols, seals and totems that had long been carved and painted suddenly disappeared. They see nothing because they don't have the energy to look. They did nothing because they had no will to do it. Even if they did, it would have no effect. The wooden planks could not resist the erosion of the wind of magic.
The Lich Priest raised his arms high, clutching his staff in his right hand, and the wind turned the sand into an impenetrable cloud, forming a swirling tornado that gathered around his figure. At the center of the storm, the air becomes still, the surrounding air stops flowing, and all movement is absorbed into the vortex. In the vortex of gravel particles, the sound gradually died down, leaving only the hiss and rustle of dust and sand moving through the air and rubbing against each other.
After a moment, complete silence prevailed again, until the wooden casing of the ancient coffin began to creak. The matter is so ancient and dry that it is held together only by the magical winds that permeate it. When the container's lid separates from its base, it makes a squeaking sound, like fresh wood being split, and the upper half slowly floats above a cloud of sand.
In still air, no scent escapes from under the lid. There was no scent of the musk oils used by the Tomb Kings, no ointment used to make the mummy's skin, no scent of the bandages used to wrap the precious body.
As the ceremony ended, the Lich Priest lowered his arms and his shoulders slumped slightly. He seemed a little tired. After a moment, he raised his skull again, raising his arms slowly and steadily, and then the second slide was opened.
Different from the previous slide, this slide is more colorful and rich, with detailed hieroglyphics covering its surface. The drawing shows images of feet, hands and face, clearly showing masculine, handsome and warlike characteristics. The humanoid drawing features crossed hands holding a weapon in each hand, and fine segmented gold and turquoise armor adorns much of the figure, including the chest and limbs.
The interior of the slide is made from reed pulp thousands of years ago, which is light but strong. This material is easy to carve and mold, so it is closer to the human shape and more practical than those made of wood or stone. .
A mummified body lies inside the sliding cover, wrapped in layers of ancient reed weaving, and the moisture it once contained has long since dried up. In a long, long time ago, when the elves and dwarves still ruled every corner of the world, and the humans in the old world had not yet prospered, the corpses in the sliding cover existed before there was any record in the legends of the humans in the old world.
The Lich Priest lowered his arms again, but this time his shoulders and head did not drop. He gestured to his followers, then walked around the sarcophagus and cut the center of the reed with his blade. At the moment of cutting, the edges of the reed spring up and separate, beginning to curl, as if they have contracted from being pulled too tightly, for too long.
When the followers placed the clay pot on the base around the sliding lid, the Lich Priest stretched his arm in the direction of the painted lid. With the success of the ceremony just now, the clay pot was already filled with the wind of Shasu.
The Lich Priest made the sand move again. This time, the sand moved around the perimeter of the space like a swarm of bees in a huge whirlpool. He stood on the path of the sand, opened his mouth again, made a storm-like sound, and groaned chants, flutes, roars and rattles, as well as hisses, hisses and washes from the skeleton's mouth.
The strange sounds were like the rhythm of music, an extraordinary, controlled melody but dissonant sound that filled the space, making the walls vibrate and the clay pots vibrating. Under the influence of the rhythm, the clay pots cracked one after another and decomposed into sand and dust. They were attracted by the huge vortex rolling in the space. The wind of Shaxu in the clay pots was activated by the Lich Priest.
Soon the space was filled with more jars, more creatures, more ethereal figures, and more incredible beings, incomplete undead warriors. They stood up, turned around, and looked around. They looked down for a moment, or at each other, then lined up around the sarcophagus, ready to greet their new master.
These beings have been waiting here for a long time, as long as two thousand years, so long that it can be traced back to the Age of Sigmar of mankind. Although they have been waiting for a long time, they have not forgotten. They never forget what they are waiting for or why they are waiting. They don't need any reminder or explanation. It's enough to look at themselves, each other, the Lich Priest, the tomb, and the Tomb King inside. They don't need orders or instructions, because their purpose is very clear. clear.
After all preparations were completed, the Lich Priest emerged from the sandstorm and tore the banner hanging from the candlestick on the wall into pieces. (End of chapter)