Chapter 233: There is a Mandela who loves bathing
Our Comoros is dirty and desolate, a gathering of witch spirits who step on blades to dance, and blood relatives who drink fine wine to indulge in the essence of life. The petty fights of power never end, shrines and muse, poisons and curses, Hecate holds the bloody crystal cup, and the long whip breaks the slave's spine.
The sarcophagi are arranged in concentric circles, the statues hidden within cocoons and raw red flesh. For dozens of millennia, we have shattered the idols of our old gods and worshiped our sinful poison-lord Shameish as our new idol.
However, today, the age of the gods has long ended, and the emergence of the Muses is buried deep in the muddy past of the Dark City.
When my fellow tribesmen lost their lives and lost their souls in the great disaster, I managed to survive due to the great fall.
That day coincided with the birthday of her who was hungry and thirsty. I lay in the sacrificial altar as a sacrifice, and watched the obsidian dagger fall from my chest without any force, and tap lightly on my heart: the sharp sound of the end of the old history. Xiao, happened to absorb the dark soul of my former master.
I look up at the black sun and lament that the current situation allows me to survive, just like the dark muse pities the eternity I will have.
I see a coming dark age; in aristocratic palaces and church halls, stupid and arrogant power games are being rehearsed from generation to generation, for ridiculous and comical petty fights limited to the class. As I screamed, I saw that the vacuum of power in Commorragh and even the entire Eldar race had been created with the Great Fall.
I will pave my stage with blood, even if I was once just a humble slave. My hands are empty, but my stomach is hungry.
In my plans, nothing brews more fear than the deep kiss of a blade on flesh.
He understands this too. My bloody accomplice, the lover of murder and misery, the blade that quenches the thirst of the blade, the marquis who falls with the twilight from a star higher than the black sun.
Conrad Coates. I'm looking for him.
In this slaughtered family mansion, I stepped over the stumps on the ground, hurried through the corridors with skin and emerald-green leather armor on the walls, and cursed the broken bones and limp bodies that blocked the way. His fleshy balls were tracing the blood spilled everywhere looking for his scent. Blood and guts splattered all over my pointed boots.
This is exactly his style, leaving no one alive wherever he goes.
Conrad had an equal hatred for the whole world, and never hesitated to use this strong emotion rolling in his huge and perfect body to thousands of times in every violent act of his. Released multiple times onto the twitching corpse. The depth of emotion in his chest was enough to astonish any Eldar.
In his own words, there are not ten innocent people in the entire Commorragh. Therefore, when people are feasting, fighting, resenting, and calculating, Konrad Curze does not mind killing every one of them. one.
The rare creatures imprisoned in the iron cages originally suspended in the sky of the mansion were released, including the Leatherwing, Bloodclaw, Iriwingclaw, Wasp, the rare Beluk, Shadow Crow and Im The several-meter-long wings of the shrike[1] gathered into a violent cloud in the hall.
I spent some time to deal with them, and returned to the bottom of the zoo in the arena in a trance, returning to the past when I still had to fight to prove my worth of survival.
I hope this is not Conrad deliberately causing trouble for me, it means that he has found another way to provoke or play with me within the covenant. He knows that I will never allow a rift in the relationship between us. This bloody Marquis is my only fake card at the moment.
I walked through a series of halls, listening to the crunching sound of my own boots amidst the debris of onyx, turquoise, amethyst and emerald. I did not deny the pride and joy that rose in my heart when I trampled on my privileges. readily.
I have been groveling, groveling, imprisoned and bound, living on my last breath. So does Conrad.
Maybe this is why we hate each other.
Soon after, I heard a faint sound of water.
As expected, Konrad Coates will not change his unreasonable bad habits.
While we pride ourselves on the sensitive senses of our species, Conrad Coz's innately sharper senses show unabashed innate superiority. He hears my steps, or smells my scent, before I do.
"Victor," Konrad Curze called my name, "you are here, my ally."
——
Asdubar Victor Find the indoor hot spring inside the mansion. In the dim candlelight and the hanging black and red veil, he unexpectedly found the figure of Conrad Coates soaking in the cold spring water.
The Blood Marquis picked up the water and washed his dirty black hair. The ripples of blood slowly spread around his pale muscles.
He turned around in the water, lay on the edge of the pool, and propped up his thin face. Those dark eyes with oversized pupils were strangely embedded in his quiet expression, exuding an indescribable cold concentration.
"Your hatred is turning into blood in the way, Konrad," the Eldar said, fiddling with a bulbous skull he had picked up from the display case, and tossing the Primarch a bottle of bloodwine he had picked up from the table.
The corners of Conrad Coates’ mouth twitched nervously.
"I don't hate you," he hissed softly, breaking the neck of the bottle and tasting the blood flowing from his thin, slashed lip as he drank. "Pain is the only way to wash away sin."
Victor did not smile, he was too lazy to refute Conrad's self-defense. "Why don't you come out of your favorite bath, Blood Marquis."
"Can't you see, Asdubal? The dirty blood of your kind is on the tips of my fingers. "Kuzzi shook his fingers in distress, even though there was no trace of dirt in the gaps between his long nails. "I have to wash my hands. And my hair, hair is hard to wash, you know."
"Shave your head, Blood Marquis." Victor walked around the bathing pool, found the side with the bathing stairs, and stepped directly into the cold water. Blood quickly spread from the soles of his boots.
Conrad Coates jumped out of the pool angrily, and the mania on his face instantly turned into a condescending contempt: "You dirty slave, chirping strong-brained cat, get out of here. Your boots stained with sin!”
“You are a savage Mandela, a venomous Ugur, and a Lilith who takes ten baths a day,” Victor frowned and hid. Passing the half wine bottle thrown by Coze, "I am working hard to defeat our enemies and drown the nobles who stand in the way, but you come here to massacre an unplanned surname just to borrow their bath. "
Koz leaned over and stared at the Eldar's equally pale face, and suddenly chuckled.
He retreated behind the gauze curtain, retrieved from the darkness the handmade long coat that he had sewn with dozens of pieces of extremely well-tanned leather, and tied it up slowly until the scarred skin of the original body was Covered by a warm skin wrap of another species.
Water flowed from the long black hair of the original body after careful cleaning, soaking the leather on its shoulders and back.
"Sooner or later, this castle will be ruined in our plan. It just so happens that there is a very good bath here, Victor." Cozz said casually, "The day you rolled off the altar Didn't you take a shower? ""I want to eat first." Victor did not shy away from his past experience as a slave. He regarded his behavior of resisting whipping as evidence of pride, and a snake-like smile hung on his face. At the corner of the mouth, "The thirsty brings the soul's desire for a gluttonous feast, but my flesh and blood body also urgently needs to eat. I didn't take a bath, what impact does that have?"
" Hunger cannot be satisfied with blood, and pain cannot eliminate the consequences of the curse." Curze half-singed and half-hummed briskly, "Death does not exist, and is isolated from our world..."
"Death is to the nobles. Rarely, they overcome death and see it as a unique transition," Victor said, stepping out of the water. Curze never minded being interrupted from humming, either stopping to answer or pretending to be deaf. "It is part of eternity."
"This makes real death full of fear. And fear can only be carried by living creatures. Extending the period before real death is a good recipe for fear... How is the progress of your great cause, ally?"
"We have found a new racial self-identification to strengthen the cohesion within the ethnic group." Victor simply explained his idea.
He does not need to describe all the belonging and social isolation and group antagonism that proper nouns can bring. Konrad Coates clearly understands what defining the boundaries of "us" and "them" can bring. prejudices and conflicts.
"What is it?" Curze said softly.
"Eldas Aeneas." Victor replied, stroking the sharp shadow lines of the skull's eye sockets with his fingers. Dark Eldar, that's what the words mean.
"Darkness, the ghosts of the night spread fear in the darkness, the night ghosts gnaw at sins, and the coward makes the more coward surrender. Dark Eldar," a calm smile appeared on Curze's face, "The best pseudonym for the Slayer, "We are all aliens to each other," Asdúbal Victor said indifferently, "and you are even more alien to our world." It's the reason why the Haemonculus Hexakeris captured you."
"Hexakeris is not dead," Curze said suddenly, his dark eyes unblinking and his face often twitching nervously. The silence of his muscles gave him a rare dignity.
"I heard the brightest star among the Haemonculi, Bloodlord Conrad Curze, admit that he had rescued his hated enemy from the webs spread by her thirst."
“I don’t want to give him up easily to the torture of the thirsty lady. Even if what he will encounter may not be different, the person who performs the thing itself is also different.”
Conrad Coates's speech became extremely clear, and the cool madness burst out in his dark eyes with astonishing deterrence.
“I will complete my work personally, peel off his flesh and blood, gnaw at his bones, infinitely extend the last millisecond of the eternal torture he will face, taste his fear, prey on his madness, Tell him that this is only the smallest prelude to the meal he is about to experience, study his tics, analyze his nerves, and explore where the pain will reach its most exquisite perfection. How can I bear to let this sweetness fall into another's belly. What about Asdubar Victor? "
"Narrow-minded, cold and violent," Victor praised sincerely, "Ambitious, greedy and selfish, blood prince"
<. br>"And I don't hate this city, Viktor." Curze said, narrowing his eyes and emphasizing his emotional state for the second time, "I love it."
Victor put him The skull he was playing with was thrown into the bathtub. "Whether you hate it or love it, our road to rule is still long. Our power is weak and unknown, and your normal actions will be interrupted by sudden hallucinations. This is a fatal weakness."
"You are hinting at an external force." Cozz pondered for a moment, then took out a thin rectangular card from the pocket of his sewn leather jacket with two fingers and accurately threw it into the hands of the Eldar.
It was a beautifully drawn card, with no words written on the front and back, only the corresponding crying and laughing masks, as a foreboding hint.
“This item is in the same envelope as an invitation to a public banquet of the Church of the Sun, and was delivered to the owner of this mansion next to the breakfast table.” Coze said with a low smile, “You may Need it."
——
"I have imagined many different situations," Morse said, in front of the Eldar who had just decided to call himself the Troupe Leader a few days ago. , conjuring up a recliner made of rattan and sitting down. "But the only thing I didn't expect was that you would use the name of an artificially bred Eldar kid who just joined the troupe to send a message to Nuceria."
When he was told that Arman Laroni was just a young Eldar who had just been born from the amniotic tube of the breeding wall for only a few years, Morse could not help but feel dumbfounded - he had previously thought that this was the name of the troupe leader.
"Avatar, my name." The troupe leader replied, outlining the mask pattern on the surface of the card one stroke at a time.
The first performance of the troupe was arranged by these fancy-dressed Eldar at a dance that was to be held by the Sun Church of Comoros, and most of the invitations had been sent to the guests.
What Avatar is painting now is the last batch of invitations to be reissued to small churches and noble families, such as the low-level Gnosis Church, the Church of the Awakened, the Poisonous Heart Church, and the Smega Family, Ai The Lee family and so on. Each of these small organizations has little importance on the Comoros stage, but their collective arrival will be a symbolic announcement.
After changing out of their holographic battle suits, the Eldar in the spacecraft generally put on their own colorful colorful uniforms with extremely bold colors.
In theory, this kind of attire may just mean their personal preference; however, in reality, this group of guys have different styles throughout the ship, such as rough orc sofas, small human chairs and other items that have been transported from different locations. After softly sleeping on the red and blue fiber used by the alien race, Morse began to wonder how these Eldar could continue to live in a sad state of suspected zero income.
Through the curved observation window behind Avatar, Morse can estimate the projection that the floating Tuchucha should cast in the real universe. What this huge machine can manifest in front of the species in the material universe is only a small part of its immeasurable huge volume.
After the Tuchucha Engine, the entrance to the huge webway glowed with rainbow-like light. They arrived here from the complex webway outside the entrance. At this time, the webway was carrying A boatload of Eldar souls echoed and swayed with excitement.
Below the spacecraft, a faintly visible shadow lingered outside the webway, like a dying python, hungry and unbearable.
"The Void..." said the Avatar.
"I have a name," Morse said. "Call me Morse."
"Okay, Morse. Do you want to join us, the Void?"
Morse turned his chair and faced the troupe leader again. "I don't mind going to the auditorium to enjoy your first performance, but you'd better call me human. I think I look quite like a living person."
[1] I just translated the animal names casually.
In addition, if you don’t understand something recently or find a setting bug, please call me (.)
(End of this chapter)