Chapter 178 28. Story Meeting
"Ahhh!" A thin bitter liquid was forced into Dorian's throat. He struggled to wake up from a coma. The liquid exuded a foul smell and he spit out a mouthful. After the juice, he jerked his head away, a trace of pain flashed in his eyes, and his stomach began to churn.
A calloused hand tried to fix Dorian's chin, stopping him from shouting. Although he was very weak, he still raised his head sharply and bit the offending hand hard. Taking a bite, his teeth bit deeply into the tiger's mouth between his index finger and thumb. He tasted blood, but his stomach held him back. His teeth unclenched and a fist smashed into his cheek as he vomited a gush of bile.
Dorian felt a knife pressed against his cheek. The knife was cold, rough and sharp. When the knife slowly pressed against the skin of his face and easily cut into the flesh below, he felt angry and painful again. yelled. The strange liquid seemed to enhance his senses, and the pain stimulated him to wake up completely. He blinked as warm blood flowed down his face, and when he concentrated, he saw a short Druchi with thin limbs standing in front of him.
Shadow's angular features are covered with indigo and red spiral tattoos. This tattoo has a strange effect, giving people a roaring expression even when resting. When he squinted at Dorian, his face was an image of hysterical hatred, as if there was endless hatred driving him. He wore layers of loose robes and soft leather boots, and a wide belt around his waist held various daggers.
The blazing fire illuminated a small clearing surrounded by a circle of trees from behind. More shadows were crouching or walking around the fire. Most of the shadows were wearing mottled green and brown cloaks, subtly matching the The shadows of the forest blend into one.
Two moons shone in the unusually clear sky. Although Dorian was in pain all over his body and his stomach was churning, it was difficult to concentrate and think, but he still tried to force himself to calm down.
"Is this how you treat the children of the great Dread Lord?" Dorian snarled.
Shadow raised his head when Dorian exploded, raised the knife to his lips with a smile, and licked the blood on the blade. He raised his eyebrows appreciatively, then turned to his companion and spoke in a thick accent. Dorian listened for a long time, but he didn't understand a word. The shadows around the fire laughed. Dorian didn't like this sound. He thought he was humiliated.
"Sir, that short man said he likes your taste." The servant next to Dorian swallowed a mouthful of spit, then looked at Dorian and said with difficulty, with an expression of doom on his face.
Dorian tried hard to force himself to turn his head away from the direction of the sound. His subordinate was tied to the tree next to him, his face covered with purple bruises, and the other one was still unconscious.
"The flesh and blood of noble warriors is the delicacy of the Druchi in these mountains. If I were you, I would not mention your father so forcefully." The servant was still speaking with difficulty with swollen lips.
"You are crazy! They will not eat their own compatriots! Impossible! Absolutely impossible!" Dorian exclaimed.
"We are not their compatriots. In their eyes, we are city dwellers, not to mention the current situation. To them, we are just meat, food, fat, soft, delicious and delicious." The servant smiled painfully He smiled and said self-deprecatingly.
There was a metallic rattle and clang near the fire. Dorian turned around and saw a shadow beside the fire unrolling a roll of soft leather sewn with many pockets of different sizes. A handle made of bone or wood was exposed from the outside of each pocket. Under his gaze, the short shadow took out a bone cutter and a polished bone saw.
"If we're lucky, they should have eaten recently. They may only need a hand or a calf. They are very good at taking only what they need and leaving the victim alive for later." The retinue also listened. When the voice came, he took a look and started to talk to himself.
"That's enough! Kane! Stop talking! Stop talking!" Dorian roared in a broken voice.
The short shadow spoke, and several of his companions got up and started to work. One shadow shook out a piece of rope and wrapped the rope around a strong tree trunk hanging by the fire. Another shadow picked up one end of the rope, walked to Dorian, and expertly quickly wrapped the rope around Dorian's ankle several times. The other two shadows untied the rope that tied Dorian to the tree and tied the shadows' hands tightly behind their backs.
"Don't you dare! Touch me with your dirty knives again. In the name of the God of Cain, I will curse you and let these hills wither for a thousand years!" Dorian roared.
The short shadow made a sound of disgust and issued another brief command. Two shadows pulled the rope, and Dorian's body was hung upside down precariously. The rough hands of the shadows stopped Dorian from swinging upside down. Another shadow placed a large brass bowl on the Dorian's head lowered, ready to receive the blood being released.
"Kill me, and the fear lords of Naggarond will hunt you and your kind to death." Dorian watched as the short shadow pulled out a sickle-shaped knife from the leather cloth. His body was shaking violently, boiling with rage and adrenaline.
"You are nothing but smoke, city man. After a while, poof! You will disappear, as if you never existed, and your Dreadlord father will never know your fate." The short shadow smiled. He walked over, revealing his jagged black and yellow teeth, and whispered.
The knife was pressed against Dorian's throat, as cold as ice.
Suddenly, a shout came from the other side of the fire, and the short shadow stopped. A harsh voice issued an order in rustic Elvish, and the short shadow responded quickly at a speed that Dorian could not keep up with. Without warning, Dorian was suddenly thrown to the ground, suffering excruciating pain in his head, shoulders and neck. But he rolled over onto his back and turned his head to see what was going on.
There were many shadows appearing at the edge of the firelight. The leader was a broad-shouldered shadow with tattoos on his face and hands. The shadows that had been sneaking around the fire backed away from the new ones, treating them with a mixture of respect and fear.
The broad-shouldered shadow covered with tattoos studied the bound Dorian and directed a long question to his companion, who responded quickly. He asked another question and got a longer answer this time, rubbing his chin with his tattooed hand in thought.
"These damn shadows are bargaining!" Dorian realized.
The broad-shouldered shadow turned as if to say something to his companion, and suddenly he pounced on the shorter shadow. Two shadows rolled around on the wet ground, fighting, their daggers flashing.
"It seems that some things between the mountain people and us are still the same!" Dorian thought as he watched the fight.
There was a squelch of steel hitting flesh, and the broad-shouldered shadow roared in pain, but then Dorian saw a tattooed arm suddenly stretch out and stab the dagger hard. The broad-shouldered shadow stabbed him again and again, and the short shadow lay on the ground vomiting blood and struggling.
The victor staggered to his feet, blood seeping from the wounds on his arms. After raising his hands and swearing his strength, he led his companions to Dorian's side. A pair of rough hands pulled Dorian up, and a knife cut off the restraints at Dorian's ankles. He simply glanced at Dorian, his eyes revealing his evaluation, as if he were choosing a piece of beef at the market, and then he nodded with satisfaction.
Before Dorian could speak, he spun on the spot, and the shadows pushed him forward, towards the deep shadow behind the fire. He staggered a few steps and then regained his balance. Suddenly, he turned around, took a few quick steps, and came to where the short shadow was lying. He bent down as much as possible and got close to the tattooed face of the short shadow. He was happy to see that the light of life was still in the short shadow.
"Taste your blood and feast, dwarf, I warned you! If you tease me, you will..." Before
Dorian could finish speaking, angry shouts came from behind him, and a broad hand stretched out from his broad shoulders. , scarred hands, pushed him forward easily. The rough hands of two Shadows grabbed his arms, a dark sack that smelled of sweat and vomit was thrown over his head, and a rope was tied loosely around his neck. He started walking in the suffocating darkness, Shadow's rough hands holding his arms tightly, keeping him upright no matter how many times he stumbled.
As time went on, Dorian's mind became clearer and he tried to listen to every sound that came around him. He could hear the footsteps and curses of the shadows, which seemed to be walking in a line behind him. Judging from the relaxed tone of the Shadows, it seems that the Shadows are within their own territory and are not afraid of being attacked. He was even more shocked when he heard the sleepy groan of a cold lizard far behind the team. How Shadow responded to the cold lizard was still a mystery to him.
Time no longer made sense, and Dorian felt that these shadows seemed tireless, never stopping in their swift, ground-devouring march. Without warning, the shadows' hands grabbed him and stopped him in his tracks, and the shadows exchanged a brief word. A hand was placed on his neck, causing him to bend awkwardly, and he was thrown unceremoniously forward. His foot touched something soft, and he fell down hard on the ground, but it didn't seem to be dirt underneath him, but like a pile of fur or blankets.
There was another brief conversation behind Dorian, and then the sound of movement. Strong hands grabbed him and turned him over, then deft fingers untied the sack. The dirty sack was pulled open, and he breathed in the smoky air greedily. His eyes seemed to have become accustomed to the darkness, and he soon began to observe his surroundings. He was lying on his back among a pile of furs, in what looked like a tent with a curved roof.
Three druchi squatted beside him, their hands slid over his face and body, their fingertips brushed his head, briefly stopping on the swollen lump on his forehead, and brushed over his noble nose, Then it slid past his lips. Their touch was as light as a feather, unnaturally gentle.
When the embers rekindled, Dorian understood the reason and saw a scene that made his hair stand on end!
Three Druchi women squatted beside him. They were all wearing a simple deerskin katan, and they had no hair on their heads. They had the same emblem tattooed on their foreheads. Iron collars were placed around their necks. Their proud pointed ears were gone, leaving nothing but gnawed scar tissue. Long, horrific scars on their necks emerged from the tops of their collars, showing how their vocal cords had been brutally severed. Their faces hovered over him in the flickering light, their expressions seeming to be focused, the darkness swallowing their eyes now empty.
The slaves worked together to pull Dorian to his feet. He struggled but could not completely suppress a shudder of disgust. To cripple a druchi in this way, depriving them of their basic strength, and then not letting them escape death, is unbelievably cruel to Lingqi!
Hearing the dignitaries and sorceresses in the tent here, they began to scream and curse. It was obvious that the cruelty of the Shadows had surpassed that of the Druchi, whose moral bottom line was already very low. Then they began to denounce the shadows and clamored about what would happen if they encountered this group of shadows in the future.
Drusala, who was mixed in the crowd, also nodded in agreement, but she knew that the Tower of Grond's Prophecy was also cruel. There was a group of guards in the tower called Frost Blades. These warriors were fanatically loyal to Morathi. , but in fact they have no choice. The members of the Frost Blade are basically handsome nobles. They gave up their old masters and were lured to Grond under the sweet talk of Morathi's maid. Once they entered the Tower of Prophecy, the promise of great wealth disappeared, replaced by the cruel reality of being poisoned by cold poison, and they had no choice but to become puppets eager for instructions. Only Morathi and her closest handmaidens know the spell that drives the Frostblade, as they guard it greedily to ensure their absolute control over it.
If Drusala was still in the Tower of Prophecy, maybe she would also know the magical spell soon. And she also knew that the superstructure of the Tower of Prophecy was indeed filled with wealth that would drive mortals crazy. After all, the gold mines there had been mined for five thousand years, but only a handful of sorceresses could obtain permission to enter them. Guarding there are the Silent Ones, the guards who guard the superstructure, these druchi have their tongues pulled out to ensure their silence. But thankfully, their fate was much better than that of the guards guarding Morathi's private room. The guards there not only lost their tongues, but were also blinded and castrated. They could only rely on hearing and touch to fight.
Compared with the story Dorian told, what made Darkus more curious was why Dorian told this story?
The story will come to an end here. Although the dignitaries and sorceresses are silent in Dorian's immersive story, it is already very late at this time and they have to rush on their way tomorrow.
(I won’t talk about it anymore, I probably lost my subscription again, so I’ll talk about it in another way.)
(End of this chapter)