Chapter 164 (1/2)
Standing under balato fortress for the first time, anyone will be afraid from the bottom of his heart when he sees the twisted golden red eyes at the top of the fortress wrapped in the flame like fog and looking down on the earth indifferently.
The deep red and golden pupil is the deep darkness that will sink at a glance, with a power that makes the soul tremble.
Ilminster carefully avoided its eyes. He was dressed like an ordinary fallen mage, limping through the streets of deepwater City, and sometimes had to avoid the drow patrol wrapped in ferocious armor. He didn't even dare to use those useful magic tricks in case he was found by the eye of morgos in the sky.
The eye of arcane law, which hangs high on the top of the tower of Bator fortress, rules the magic net of the whole deep water city. Ilminster could feel the intense jump in the silver fire, which was the anger of Mistra. This dark eye is the projection of the left eye sent to the starry sky by morgos on the ground. In its line of sight, everything is absolutely difficult to hide.
It is the eye of the magic net. Like a virus, it usurped part of the power of the magic net and desecrated Mistral's throne to some extent. The last person who did so concocted the famous ”Casas apotheosis”, which directly led to Mistral's sinking and death. The eye of the magic net is like a malignant tumor, parasitic in Mistra's body
With the magic eye as the core, irminster didn't dare to expose any trace. No matter helast black robe or the fallen kelben black staff, they didn't mind taking him to please their master. In the fan lock, even the perfect Ilminster has no chance of winning, not to mention that he is now seriously injured.
The streets are full of dark evil things. The orcs and ogres in heavy armor are stationed outside the city, and the drow, the dead and the ”blood hand Gang” are in the city.
The running dogs of morgos are cruel and cunning. Under the harsh rule of the Dark Lord, they almost numbly follow the order he has made. Under the rule of this ”iron law”, the deep water city is an unexpected peace. He doesn't care so much about his tolerant rule over the city as he doesn't care.
The Dark Lord put forward strange requirements of ”seriousness and liveliness” to his men, which made these bloody and cruel demons have to do all kinds of funny acts. They were as funny and ridiculous as clowns while cruelly cleaning the city.
Drow with exposed clothes and uniform no more than three yards of cloth.
The dead who planted flowers in their skulls.
Always elegant, smiling, well-dressed blood hand members.
This city has an unusual and strange aesthetic feeling and atmosphere, a feeling that irminster can't say: first, beauty, ubiquitous aesthetics. The Lord of darkness has turned it into a city to practice his aesthetics. The dark, quiet art floating in the stars and the sea seems to be solidified in time and flowing in the earth.
The tireless dead are transforming the city, making it more and more far away from the world, decorating it with blood, flowers, cruelty, darkness, singing and poetry, and praising it with the beauty of life. City of eternal night!
Ilminster walks in this city, feeling quiet and ethereal from the bottom of his heart. Even his thinking has been stretched for a long distance, and his thinking has solidified here. He could feel the poems written by the Lord of darkness, the hymns of darkness.
Ilminster was not confused by the appearance. He sincerely felt thorny and vigilant about all these strange things. The Dark Lord is not different from those abyss demons and evils. He is more hidden and confused. The good order aura of the Dark Lord may not be a joke.
Bypass the square where the Banshee sings and carefully avoid taking care of the dead flowers and plants on the roadside. Ilminster turns into the dragon and beauty tavern on the roadside. This is a relatively safe harpist stronghold. Thanks to the arrogance of the Dark Lord, it has not been liquidated or attacked.
”The tavern is closed! Come back another day!” as he pushed open the heavy oak door of the tavern, the bartender's hoarse voice came from the counter.
”It's cold, let me have a hot drink and go!” Ilminster rubbed his hands and stepped into the door of the tavern. The fire in the fireplace was burning, and the smell of oak was warm. He made his spirit feel comfortable. Several travelers, shrouded in cloaks and robes, sat around the fireplace, looking back at him.