Just being a dark elf in Warhammer

Previous story.

A few years ago, Dacuus took a group of people to the Chaos Realm and came to a small garden of Nurgle, which is also a branch. He killed the guard dog, the dragon, and the owner, the Great Unclean One who was killed by his scarlet sword. Other guests who were not guests also took advantage of this opportunity to enter, taking revenge if there was a grudge, looking for trouble if there was no grudge, and making a lot of noise.

In the end, he died there, eh! ? But he thought he could live, and he lived again, completing a real resurrection in the domain of Nurgle, which was the ultimate insult. What's more insulting is that after making a fuss, the people he brought also retreated unscathed. How many came in, how many went out, not one was left behind, and not one was thrown in.

The nature of this matter is no less than Tzeentch instigating Skarbrand to give Khorne an axe behind his back. When Tzeentch and Nurgle quarrel, they will inevitably bring this matter up and talk about it repeatedly, repeatedly whip the corpse, and repeatedly laugh at it.

Nurgle is merciful, but after this... a clay man still has some anger, let alone a Chaos God, who is now looking for trouble.

Moreover, long before this, Daxus had actually made enemies with Nurgle. Who made him do two big things when he went to Lustria for the second time, sending away two plague apostles hiding in the dark. These three times plus the present and the future, hatred will only accumulate more and more, and confrontation will only escalate more and more. Reconciliation does not exist. The agriculture he promotes is the most suitable place to be transformed into a garden, which has an unparalleled temptation for Nurgle.

Seeing the rolling log, Daxus did not jump, nor did he do a flat turn jump on the spot, a difficult dance move that could be scored full marks by the judges.

When he was in Athel Loren, he was never idle for a day. When he was not out, he practiced martial arts. He could do this kind of difficult action. The dragon armor would not restrict him, but would enhance him. But there was no need... He slowly took out the scepter on his belt and raised it.

Now let me introduce it to you. The silver scepter in his left hand had been upgraded by Dais, Salil, Serene, Narhap and Lilith.

The upgraded scepter was still the same bird-like shape as before. There was no decoration of the moon goddess kneeling on her knees holding up the crescent moon on the top. He wanted to have it, but he ruthlessly refused it. Just kidding, he was not Teclis, not a believer of Lilith. He knew Lilith's tricks too well. Moreover, he was going to use the scepter as a war cane for daily use in the future. When reviewing the troops, what would it mean to have the moon goddess carved on the scepter.

The scepter was wrapped with silver silk decorations. After the upgrade, it was engraved with winding elven runes. The top was still the glittering eagle head, holding a fist-sized colorful gem in its mouth. This gem is not a gem that is not common in the secular world, but the top achievement of spellcasters.

After studying the Yangyan Sword, Tegris understood the secrets inside the Yangyan Sword and reproduced a sword of Tegris. In the following two hundred years, he has been using this sword and brought it to the next era together with the Lilith Moon Staff.

The blade of the sword of Tegris has eight energy stones, representing the eight winds. Only a powerful elf wizard like Tegris can release the power of this weapon without causing great harm to himself.

The colorful gems on the scepter in Daxus's hand are a collection of the eight wind stones, but unlike the eight energy stones on the sword of Tegris, the colorful gems provide conduction instead of storage, which is more stable and durable than ordinary energy stones. Otherwise, he would have taken out the scepter just now and used the gems to blow up the Leviathan.

Therefore, the scepter gave him new characteristics. As long as he picked up the scepter, he would become a mage unit, that is, he was a warlock, although not the warlock who killed Malekith...

That is to say... he had completed his transformation and job change. He changed from a warrior to a magic swordsman. Now he held the Silver Scepter in his left hand and Vizar in his right hand. This was why he did not ask Flanais for the Walking Barrier before he set out.

The upgraded scepter gave him another insurance. Now the Silver Scepter and Vizar were both his spellcasting media. As long as there was a wind of magic, the scepter would burst out with a more terrifying defensive force than the Walking Barrier.

As the scepter was raised high, a dazzling light burst out, like a bright moon in the night sky. The power of soul quenching surrounded him, like a shield, isolating him from the surrounding decay and darkness. Under the light, the gloomy inner wall suddenly became as bright as day, and the light was as blazing as the sun, dispelling all the evil forces around.

The swarm of insects rushed towards Dacus frantically. Thousands of insects densely covered the ground and walls, and they made a creepy buzzing sound, like a black frenzy. However, when these insects came into contact with the light of Soul Quenching, they instantly turned into ashes and disappeared without a trace. The insects twisted and burned in the light, and finally disappeared quickly like a extinguished spark, leaving only the smell of burning in the air.

The light emitted by Soul Quenching not only affected the swarm of insects, but also had a huge deterrent effect on the rotting plants and creeping creatures around. The twisted trees trembled under the light, and the originally entangled branches broke and fell to the ground, turning into a mass of ashes. The sticky weeds and vines burned quickly like burning paper, leaving charred marks, but the smell of decay and stench still filled the air.

Every step he took left burning marks on the ground. Like a purifier with a halo, he was purified by light wherever he went. His steps are firm and fast, and wherever the light reaches, all corruption and darkness are receding.

As he continued to move forward, the light around his body became more intense, and the rotting plants and squirming creatures were all burned to ashes. The oppressive feeling that once suffocated him gradually dissipated in the light. The energy contained in the light burned even the smell, the rotten smell and fishy stench disappeared, and only the smell of burning filled the air.

He took a deep breath, he felt like he could finally breathe, otherwise he would have been suffocated to death. However, one wave after another appeared, and swarms of insects appeared. To be precise, swarms of flies appeared.

The swarms of flies were huge and endless, forming a huge black net that blocked the sky and the sun. For a moment, the entire scene disappeared into this endless darkness. They were like black torrents, rushing toward Darkus from all directions with an aura of destruction.

They are more ferocious and larger than the previous insect swarms, with sharp mouthparts and hard carapace, and their eyes are shining with bloodthirsty light. The chitinous outer wings, which look like beetles, shimmer with a strange luster, and the sound of the wings is more harsh, like thunder, vibrating Darkus's eardrums, and the blowflies in the cesspit are completely worthless compared to them. carry.

The humming sound echoed in the air like an ancient mantra, as if eating away at the boundary between heaven and earth, making it difficult for Darkus to distinguish reality from fiction. The buzzing sound lingers in the ears, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, like a crazy symphony.

He could feel the corrosive power of the buzzing, a force that penetrated deep into his soul, making him uneasy, as if every fly was whispering in his ears, telling endless pain and fear.

The buzzing sound was like a sharp blade, cutting through the barrier of reason, making him involuntarily want to go crazy, gritting his teeth to get rid of this endless torture. The air was once again filled with the smell of decay, mixed with the flapping of flies' wings, almost suffocating him and making the whole world collapse.

For a moment, the flies seemed to break through the barrier of soul quenching, penetrated into his scalp, sucked his blood, laid eggs on his hair, and dripped down each hair. He felt countless crawling and stinging, It was like flies starting to squirm under his skin.

The humming was no longer as harsh as before, but the music that had accompanied him for many years, the sound of growth in the father's garden, the melody of divine corruption.

The buzzing changed again, sounding much like a whisper.

The buzzing sound was getting louder and softer. This state of extreme opposition should not have occurred, but it did. The feeling exceeded his ability to perceive.

The buzzing sound was urgent, as if commanding him, pulling him, making him unable to discern the direction and addicted to it.

The buzzing placed him in a dreamland of undulating terrain and increasing elevation. A river flowed to his left, brown-grey and cold, with soft rotting objects tumbling in the water.

Black foam gurgled around the rocks, leaving a layer of slime behind. The forest on both sides of the river trembled with hanging fungi hanging from the leafless trees. Huge mold colonies cover the branches and are thicker than the trunk, dragging the branches to the ground. The loam is very thick, like a rotten carpet, and insects feed freely on the loam.

"Give me death."

A belief is formed.

He will serve Nurgle, this is the value of his existence, and he cannot go against the wishes of the Plaguefather. He needs to answer Nurgle's call, and this will be his most important duty.

He was walking, and with every step his armor made a tinkling sound drowned by mold. Several pieces of spiked plate armor cracked as the joints were squeezed, but the damage to the armor came not from the outside, but from the inside. The gas in his body caused his abdomen to swell, squeezing the armor from the inside like fat maggots emerging from their egg sacs.

In his mind, his gardens brought coveted harvests from Asriel in the south to the Isle of Albion in the north, from Ulthuan to Elzin Alvin. His domain is so vast that it cannot even be summed up in one word.

Great swollen lakes, fly plantations, patches of flesh sewn with irrigation ditches filled with withering steam where countless flies lay their eggs. Everywhere you look, creatures that were once elves, humans, and suffering from lymphoma are plowing the fields with rakes and hoes, or wading into ponds with long hooks, turning over bloated corpses floating in them and letting them mature.

He took another step, but at the cost of hundreds of deaths, the bodies dragged to nurseries to replenish the soil with nutrients. He let out a simple sigh of joy and crouched in the mire.

The remains of crucified men, women and children are densely packed on the ground, and corpses of almost all races can be found here. A fetid breeze groaned among the dead, making them hum and sway like dense leaves in bloom.

After standing up, he pulled out the dagger and sawed off one hand. The hand was beginning to liquefy and break away from the wrist. A drop of oily black liquid dripped from the wound. He licked the liquid and closed his eyes in joy.

Then, he came to the prepared dining table, turned the dagger with the tip pointed downward, and inserted the blade into the rotten chest of the corpse on the table in front of him. The corpse was like soft gray cheese spread on dry bread, without any resistance. Like slicing bone marrow. As he sliced ​​from neck to tail vertebrae, the flesh was broken into a mass of maggots, with entrails and bodily fluids dripping from the wounds.

The smell was pure deliciousness, making his tummy rumble, the rot was delicious, the loose fat, the softened fiber, everything was delicious. He licked the juice from the blade and opened his mouth to accommodate the entire fist. Various tastes and smells made his body tremble, and he closed his eyes in intoxication. The power of new life made the tip of his tongue tingle, and then spread throughout his body like a warm current.

"Feast, my children!"

As Darkus shouted, with the crunching of rotten meat and the cracking of bones, the apostles gathered around him ate hungrily. He looked at the apostles and placed his hands contentedly on his swollen waist.

The Apostle handed him his helmet, his voice rising from the steel, his hands clasping the trident he used to tend the garden, howling wordlessly, veins popping on his bulging biceps. The power of a loving father seeped out of him, turning the air around him a syrupy brown.

He laughed, a long, piercing laugh that turned into a coughing fit, with yellow phlegm spurting from his mouth. The phlegm sprayed onto the ruins, and the moment it was touched, the disgusting, spreading lichen twitched, suddenly accelerated its growth, and finally died.

Behind him, the sickly Cyclops began to take shape. They are horned, covered in slime, and armed with serrated swords that exude the stench of soul rot. They are the counters of Nurgle, the carriers of the plague. Formed they sang, a terrible music, a cacophony of cacophony celebrating corruption. The air was as filthy and suffocating as ever, and became even filthier with the singing.

The assembled troops, trumpets blasted, and the clatter of marching resounded through the garden. The clicking sound was so loud it was like the lungs were filling with fluid, buzzing and echoing and squirming like the wings of millions of insects.

"You're a bit..."

Perhaps others have turned over in the face of this situation and fallen into the arms of a loving father. But who he was, his soul was exceptionally powerful, and he did not think about the nature of the illusion, because he knew that this was the promise given by Nurgle.

Illusion is his strength, his vague fragment, his goal, his eternal torment and excitement, and his frustration. But the problem is... what the hell is this? If he judged correctly, the man in the illusion should be a Nurgle Chaos Lord, not even a devil prince.

Is there anyone like this? Is this mercy? who is he? According to his level, even the bread of the unclean person is not acceptable. When Nurgle retreated, he sat on it and let Nurgle be the Great Unclean One.

But he somewhat understands Nurgle's thinking and logic. This is for Tzeentch to see. You see, the existence you regard as an opponent is just an ant that can be crushed to death at any time, a poor plaything. This situation is not going to happen. Have you found it? Does this seem to make sense?

The next second, he laughed angrily and broke away from the illusion. As the scepter was raised high, the light of the silver scepter shone in the darkness, like a beacon of hope, guiding him in the direction.

Phoenix Flames, pure white flames appeared out of thin air, forming a barrier around him. White flames burned around him, emitting a fiery light. Those flies that tried to get close to him were instantly reduced to ashes as soon as they touched the flames.

He waved his scepter, and every swing carried infinite power. However, the number of flies seemed to be endless, pouring out of the portal one after another, trying to drown him in this endless darkness. Protected by the flames, he continued to move forward, each step filled with determination and fearlessness. The barrier of flames allowed him to carve out a safe passage through the darkness and decay.

The flies seemed to sense Darkus' powerful power, and they began to gather quickly, converging into a huge fly in the darkness.

Darkus looked at the behemoth hovering outside his attack range. The fly's huge compound eyes stared at him, as if they could understand his every thought. The moment they looked at each other, his soul suddenly felt a violent tremor. It felt like he was facing an extremely powerful being. All his secrets and emotions seemed to be exposed at a glance in those indifferent eyes at this moment. Under ruthless eyes.

Those compound eyes shone with antiquity and depth, mixed with endless love and compassion.

Darkus felt an indescribable coercion, a feeling he had never felt before, and it was more intuitive than when Tzeentch stood on his shoulders before. The fly's wings trembled slightly, making a low buzzing sound. The sound seemed to have some kind of magic, making him dizzy. Without the trident holding him up, he could barely stand. Everything deep in his soul was magnified infinitely, and every cell in his body was trembling.

He knew that he was being watched by Nurgle at the moment, and he could not be knocked down by this pressure. He must concentrate all his will to resist the oppression that almost destroyed his soul, otherwise the illusion would come true. He gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on Veszar and the Silver Scepter in his hands.

As time went by, he gradually found his peace, and he once again exceeded his limits. It was as if he had completed some kind of trial, and at this moment he was sublimated, a gift from a loving father, although this was not the gift that the loving father wanted to give.

"Lord of Chaos? Is this your mercy? Or pitiful charity? You are too conservative! Go away!" Dacus' voice echoed, and the moment he finished speaking, the arcane cracking broke out on the surface of the fly, and the bright light shone like stars.

The body of the fly trembled violently under the impact of the arcane cracking, making a harsh hissing sound. The broken scales and rotten meat were blown to pieces, and the existence of the entire creature was being disintegrated bit by bit.

"Also, it is wrong to bear grudges. Be kind, open-minded, and generous! I look forward to the illusions later!" Dacus' voice was full of sarcasm, just like the process of Western food. Everything just now was just the appetizer. Nurgle made promises, negotiated, and negotiated with him. Now that the negotiations broke down, he once again angered Nurgle.

Things were just as he thought. At this moment, a portal suddenly appeared in the air not far away. The portal emitted a strange light, rotating and connecting. He knew that a new challenge was coming.

"Good fellow, you're the first to do something stupid." Dacus cursed.

An extremely bloated figure slowly emerged from the portal... (End of this chapter)