Его не звали, но он приперся / They never called, yet he is here: Глава 18
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Chapter 18 Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 06:40 |
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* * * Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 06:40 |
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The spectacle that opened our eyes proved in practice that no amount of speculation will prepare one's mind for objective reality and its twists and turns. Of course, I had expected that one of the key points of the ritual created by the cult and on which the fate of the cult depended would be protected to the highest standards. But not even my sick imagination was sufficient to suggest the enormity of protection and the height of the standards. So much so my first, second, and even tenth thought was to just turn around and go for easier prey, for heroism is for heroes, of course, but sometimes you have to think with your head. Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 07:58 |
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The devils had cordoned off a whole complex of well-fortified buildings. It was the base of one of the large mercenary units unofficially serving to a Trading House from the first fifty of the Golden Belt of the Empire of Ages. Apparently, the trading house itself was serving the devils and Hell in whole or in large part. There was no sign of battle here. The creatures and their human allies had come and, with orderliness and discipline that would do honor to any other army, had begun to fortify themselves, dragging everyone who happened to be near them to the altars. Judging by the intensity of magical techniques and the general veneer of diabolical Vice, this place plays a much more important role in the ritual than the labor artel I destroyed in the beginning. Or maybe my attack just prevented the fighters inside from deploying their ranks. Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 08:03 |
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There were as many creatures as there were people, and I didn't realize right away that not all of them matched the low end of the big bastards we'd encountered recently. If the devils had the strength to throw that many thirtieth-level elites into battle, they wouldn't have gone for the Eternal and taken the entire province at least. Fortunately, previous encounters with the elite elites, the most dangerous creatures who got the strongest souls and were trusted with admission to the common bank at the most favorable rate, had inflated my expectations a bit. Most of the forces concentrated in the distance consisted of middle and lower level creatures that, while dangerous opponents, were far from invincible. Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 08:10 |
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The standard devils that made up the backbone of the infernal forces that were arriving through the portals hidden inside the central building of the mercenary guild had a level from fifteenth to twentieth, not very powerful talents, for which there was nowhere to get improvement points (the level was too low, and even the devils could not get free ones so easily!), racial and aspect features, which also did not shine against the background of their elite, as well as a maximum of a dozen or two of their own souls in the sonm, and just ordinary souls, not super valuable and unique. Yes, with luck and a bit of tactical thinking, which eternally living scum most often have in stock, such a fighter is able to kill two warriors of the human tribe in direct combat. In indirect combat... well, it wouldn't be that hard to defame the population of a small farm or a very small village. A normal and close-knit group of adventurers with good amulets and brain protection could easily slaughter a dozen of these devils without any casualties on their part. But there were not a dozen of them here, and the enemy contingent was not limited to devils of the lower-middle status of their hierarchy alone Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 08:17 |
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We watched from afar, using one of the towers of some large building, apparently formerly a trade mission, as an observation position. This building was scorched by one of the first long-range strikes as the creatures cleared the surrounding area, extinguishing all suspicious points. It was a relatively clean attack that didn't leave the fleur behind, but the target wasn't a military bunker to spend so much energy on. Plus, they didn't want to damage the nearby barracks and houses that were now packed with desperately praying people. As said before, the devils were here for the loot, not for the fight, even if the loot was living, breathing, and thinking. Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 08:20 |
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It was the fact that we were almost two kilometers from the mercenary farmstead between two hillocks that allowed us to assess the enemy's contingent, after which we could only repeat Taria's phrase because it was very appropriate. My hard-working third eye knew that six hundred years ago, the two large hills that had been razed to the ground had been mounds, albeit cleared, but then the locals had hired a good Stone Mage who had leveled the hills and turned them into a landscape suitable for further urban development, but it wasn't the history of the place that bothered me, it was its reality. Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 08:23 |
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Three layers of serious stationary charms covered the entire space of the farmstead and the adjacent territories, among which only one barrier was hellish. The other two barriers, a pure energy dome of standard fortress defense and a more elaborate dark purple one, created on ritual Malefic with Astral inclusions, were brought here by the cultists. Specifically, the hellish outer defenses consisted of many small creatures of lower rank, which someone confidently controlled, creating from their bodies, fleur, and souls a segmented and extremely mobile closed barrier, surpassing both normal defenses. All three lines of defense created a partial dome rather than a complete one, freeing up a relatively small area at the very top of the hemisphere of barriers, from where a golden-gray beam rose into the singing sky, in which back and forth flashed the silhouettes of the souls who had been sacrificed for the ritual, even now, both in Hell and in the farmyard at the same time. Some of those silhouettes, however, were very advanced creatures, possessing rare and specific sets of talents and sonms to keep the ritual stable, if possible correcting the ritualists' hasty mistakes and speeding up the transfer process itself. Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 08:28 |
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Separate from the barrier stood a multitude of vicious magic-filled nets, shields, and traps, among which flickered the essences of minor devils and captured souls, set to amplify the already skillful enchantments even further. In this world, to empty another's essence for fuel for enchantments is an insanely effective, albeit expensive, means of extreme blackness. It was Hell who was ahead of all other users in such an art, which made sense if you thought about it. Many planar creatures could work with souls, and among those endowed with these tricks were not some unprecedented miracle-shit (remember only those ancient ones, created by which dolmens I once cleaned), but no one could outdo the devils. And, to my deepest happiness, not so often they tried to do it. Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 08:30 |
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In general, storming this place with an army was fraught with massacre and a lot of souls drowned in the Viciousness, which would strengthen such defenses even more. And that's without taking into account the defenders themselves, to whom it would be necessary to break through all these obstacles somehow! And if we take into account, the army here should be either obscenely large or reinforced with elite and super-elite units. And ideally, ask the priests to beg their patrons for a Miracle, as they always try to do in the case of perverts entrenched in reality, because against such an enemy the celestials help almost always and in significant numbers. A couple or three Heralds, or even the Avatar, not to mention the Incarnation, can wipe the insolent creatures, for whom Alurei is not their home, to dust and ashes. Alas, neither the army, the elite units, nor the Divine Miracles of the highest order are around now, and they won't be here soon. Traitorous strikes on command centers and simply influential individuals, regardless of their success, paralyzed the work of guards, guilds, guild fighters, mercenary merchants, and aristocratic vigilantes for a long time. And even though not all of them were destroyed, rather the opposite, the creatures won time to consolidate, and they will retaliate in full readiness and at a time of greater depth of the Eternal relative to the real world. Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 08:45 |
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Here, the devils did not just sit in defense, but also sent out small and toothy raid groups, helped to support teleportation beams from the bubbling skies, and also conducted artillery fire on the defense points of the inhabitants of the capital. The artillery was also worth mentioning separately. It was quasi-living and very vicious. Thirteen creatures with a level of forty-five each, resembled a huge, five meters tall, cellulite asses on two legs. That's what they looked like, I'm telling you! It would have been funny if it weren't for the aura of purest Lust surrounding each of the Great Sowers, under which the average person would, at the mere sight of these nightmare bodies, at best be mentally damaged and get a bunch of perversions straight to the brain. Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 08:52 |
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These things were shitting huge clumps of half-digested souls coming directly from the common bank, sending these projectiles toward the center of the city. I'm sure they're hitting the opposite end of the barrier, not to mention the Imperial Palace. And the power of a single strike is well worthy of the phrase "tactical strike magic of the military type." Because a couple or three of such shitty lumps of brownish (as a matter of fact) with golden and lilac tint would be enough to destroy the shields of an average estate-fortress of some aristocrat, and another one would be enough to destroy the estate itself with all its inhabitants. A damn dozen of creatures, firing in a coordinated manner, will destroy even the defense of the palace in a couple of hours.... well, given that there are only passive defenses there and no defenders, as well as their trump cards for the most extreme cases. Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 09:25 |
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The assholes, as I'm going to call these spawns of someone's sick imagination, ignoring the system's definition, were supported by about a hundred magical-type devils. They applied reinforcements, reduced rollbacks, poured their magic or even souls into the assholes' shells, corrected the fire of not-very-intelligent entities, and generally resembled typical artillery servants, as they were shown in war movies. Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 09:27 |
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Another two hundred or so mage-devils maintained the barriers, assisted the ritualists, set traps, commanded the rank-and-file devils lower down in the hierarchy (the spherical in a vacuum "mage" almost always had a level higher than the twentieth, and the sonm sang incomparably brighter), and mauled cultists and cultist women, as well as just random victims. The last point, however, was performed by all the enemy units in a cluster, and as much as I wanted to write it off as gorging and loss of control, I knew for a fact that there was no gorging and no loss of control. They were just rewarding and buffing cultists in this perverse way, reinforcing each other, creating slave puppets, turning those puppets into still-breathing billets for particularly deadly enchantments, fixing minor flaws in traps and barriers that weren't part of the main three, all in a cluster. Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 09:32 |
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The physical power of the invaders was represented by the melee-oriented devils and cultists, even if any adherents of Hell could, thanks to the fleur of their Vice, have a limited influence on the brains and souls of those around them, and the corresponding talents, or at least one bad talent, any devils could still use. The presence of abilities characteristic of this type of creature and their servants did not cancel the orientation to direct conflict, as well as the numbers. The devils alone numbered at least five hundred if I added to those visible from my vantage point the ones under the roofs of buildings, barracks, and warehouses. Cultists were over a thousand, and I bet a lot of them were brought into the city at the very last moment, summoned from distant lairs and cells, because no intelligence could not have noticed such a crowd of armed assholes for long, whether they were traitors or not. Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 09:34 |
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And, of course, we couldn't do without the elite, those very forty or so levels, which recently almost gave us a nasty slap in the face. They are not great in numbers. Even fifty may not be enough, but it is harder to count them. Some of them are in plain sight, and some can be sensed by intuition and perception, but still it is only a part. It is very hard and nasty to look deep into their positions. And without detailed reconnaissance, there's no desire to make a decision. What are the somnas of each of these guys, what personal talents, do they rely on in direct combat, like the Envoy, on special infernal magic, or on the brainwashing so beloved by all their coterie? Well, in the latter case, I'm asking about those creeps who are fully oriented on love and mental magic, and not just "know a couple of racial tricks". There's no one to ask, and there's no time to find out. Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 09:40 |
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I'm not saying there's at least one Legend in there, too. I can only sense it on the edge of my perception. Someone is holding up a segmented barrier of a couple of thousand inferior creatures, and I doubt it's just a circle of a couple of stars, narrowly sharpened fiends. No, someone alone has raised this barrier and is controlling it, and with my luck, he won't be the only one there. On the one hand, the presence of even a single legendary creature replaces an average army, and with an army like the one that unfolded before my eyes, and the Legend will be much more serious than the lower bar of the legendary. But if we take into account the intensity of the situation in the Eternal, it's not so hard to assume the presence of another beast to watch over the first one - divide and conquer, and no devil can trust each other. Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 09:43 |
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How many Legends are there in the city? We met one in the middle of the street, but I could feel in my bones that it had been dropped off there for some purpose, perhaps even to join this squad. I wanted to believe, fiercely and fiercely, that my suspicions that there were creatures of such rank in the ranks of Hell's army were not limitless. Logic said that if they had at least a hundred devils and devilesses of legendary rank, then no tricks would be needed now. They would be crushed by simple superiority in the magical, physical, and mental planes. Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 09:46 |
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So it's not that much. Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 09:47 |
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But this backyard is also clearly a marginal point, where only the best or some of the best could be placed. Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 08:20 |
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In any case, even I couldn't cover such a crowd in one blow, not without long and thoughtful preparation, that's for sure. And so, the voice of reason demands that I turn around and leave quietly before the increasingly dense sensory charms of the creatures make retreat too problematic. If we're going to start hitting individual ritual anchor points, we should pick the ones that are smaller than this one. They might not be as important, but they'd be more cooperative with the guards because it wouldn't work to ask them politely to die. I'll ask them, but they won't listen to me! Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 10:02 |
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"Need mirrors, lots of them." In a whisper, barely audible over the cries and groans of both the souls entwined in the spell and the 'prayers' of the cultists and devils, I issue a targeted directive. "Tia, you and Losius are going to have to do a good job of giving out an awful lot of planar power. Prepare the necessary ritual circles on the roof, inside, between the collapsed floors, and in the basement. Taria, Hans, mirrors on you. Hestia, try to shade the area with that tower from the sensors, but don't overdo it." Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 10:06 |
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Yes, yes, it would be smarter to retreat, which I still hope to do, but why retreat when I've never punched an enemy in the face? I can't break this crowd all at once, either alone or with my team, but only if I attack head-on. If I can't do powerful damage with the first blow, I'll run away in terror, and there's nothing to prevent me from preparing a way of escape. I must at least try since the situation may be no better elsewhere, and time still flies. Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 10:21 |
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"You'll take the disguise?" Tia, businesslike as ever in a combat situation, as if the ability to hesitate she'd surgically amputated. "And, if it's not too much trouble, outline the necessary ritual." Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 10:22 |
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Instead of answering, I send her a packet of images, which are not particularly well-designed and unprocessed, and I deserve a long, judgmental stare. I'm sorry, ma'am, I'm not even sure how exactly I'm going to attack, and will my attack be an attack at all? Even though she has already told me a thousand times her opinion about my improvisations without a clear plan and recipe. But right now, from her point of view, nothing can be done in a normal way anyway. Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 10:24 |
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"I'll put the disguise on, yes." Out loud, I answer only the first question, simultaneously tossing up one piece of mirror after another, leaving them hanging in the position where gravity caught them. "But I'll step aside." Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 10:25 |
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In response to the general outraged stares, most of all from Losius, who suspected that I was about to be a hero, I just shook my head, not taking my eyes off the labyrinth-netting that shielded the dilapidated structure from any attention and deceived both the spells and the souls inside them. Looks like I've been misunderstood again, thinking I'm going to go to war in one face. It's very much my style, I agree, but for all my recklessness and the mountains of shit I've piled on the possible risks, my usual style is useless here. I can't pull it off even in theory. Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 10:31 |
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"I'm not going to fight." Still, I can't stand it, and harshness and a slight chime of mirrors seep into my voice. "It's just that for what I'm up to... the mirrors will need material. And I want to choose it myself. The most. The most suitable." Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 10:32 |
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I spoke in fragments, barely restraining a painful groan. It's not so easy to create an analog of our stationary shelter on the move and in a completely different configuration from the usual one. The only thing that saves us is that this construction is not destined to exist for a long time anyway, but if it simplifies the task, it does not make it much easier. I always knew that for Dream and the techniques based on it, the choice of the victim and its characteristics and individual traits means a lot. That's why I stayed out of the dirt. If necessary, I could be a master of sacrifice because the fancifulness of the technique I had in mind wasn't that much inferior to that of the devil ritual I'd seen in the Library. To reflect in the right way, one must have something to reflect. A certain trait, a characteristic of the soul, personality, or trivial physical body. In these situations, I can't send someone else for the right material. First of all, they are hardly likely to grasp the requirements fully. Second, it's my choice, my burden, and the blood on my hands. Camrad_RIP 26.08.23 в 10:38 |
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Another thing crossed off the "never stoop to such a thing" list, which is getting shorter and shorter, and shorter, and, bitch, shorter. You can console yourself with the fact that for this idea of mine, it is not lambs of God, not innocent virgins or even infants. By and large, I have enough banal robbers or bandits, albeit with a couple of peculiarities. If necessary, you can do without victims, providing the necessary refractions of my own will and an extra investment of effort. It's just that now is the moment when my squeamishness can cost me not only a lot of trouble but also the lives of those I care about, so I'll have to take a little more dirt on myself and try to convince myself that I'm still me. Camrad_RIP 27.08.23 в 08:20 |
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Not funny, of course, but I can't help but have a funny thought. I'd always thought that it would be the Shadow, not Dream, who'd make me fall to sacrifice through the exact Grip. What a fantastic life. Even with enhanced clairvoyance, you still get surprised now and then. Visit us in Alurei, you won't get bored! Camrad_RIP 27.08.23 в 08:23 |
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There are plenty of living people around, but none of them are the ones I need, even if a few of the townsfolk hiding in the cellars could be used. There's a mother and her three sons whose connection to each other will bind several solid mirrors much more tightly than bare will with the same amount of effort. In the attic, there is a young man who has recently received a class and whose high perception can strengthen the mirror in such a way that it will strengthen my clairvoyance. And if I pull the fast-drinking grocer out of his cellar, his self-righteousness and excessive ego will easily nurture the newborn nightmare, giving it a couple of extremely useful features for the future ritual. Camrad_RIP 27.08.23 в 08:32 |
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It's wrong, it's all wrong. Camrad_RIP 27.08.23 в 08:32 |
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It's not about the innocence of these guys, no, and not even about my three times three times "ha" cleanliness, but about something else. I don't want the easy way out or the noble and heroic way out. No. My choice must be the right one, the most appropriate for our situation. It's easy to take the most obvious route now, but at the end of it, I'll have the same Weaver waiting for me that made me so cautious about using Dream. Only now, this Weaver will be waiting for me, not breathing down my neck but showing his face in my reflection. And his face will be exactly like mine! So an amazing coincidence! Camrad_RIP 27.08.23 в 08:41 |
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For some reason, in many books read on Earth, the heroes easily managed to preserve themselves and their morality, and humanity, if you wish, only on pure willpower and unwillingness to "bend to the Dark Side". Naturally, these stupid Sith and Jedi, or whatever they were called, just don't know how to use the Darkness, and if you are firm in your principles, like your Chelyabinsk gingerbread, you won't have any problems. I don't know how it is with the firmness of principles, but I have been saved for a long time by the presence of examples of those who, with a high probability, thought the same way. Or didn't think the same way, but did it anyway. All I had to do was to observe carefully and - oh, miracle! - restraint in impulses came even when I could not find high morals and the most honest of rules in my head, but I did not even want to look for them. You know, it is very motivating to keep your hands away from especially stinky and dirty things, very motivating. Camrad_RIP 27.08.23 в 09:23 |
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Now, holding them wasn't working, so here, I was nervous and feeling out of place. Camrad_RIP 27.08.23 в 09:25 |
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I wandered in an expanding spiral around the temporary shelter, sometimes almost (and sometimes not almost) entering the zone of control of hellish charms, sometimes moving further and further away from the goal, but slowly, one by one, I found the basics I needed. Life, soul, mind, fate - how many meanings there are in these words, both generally accepted and put by each person separately. In the case of the losers who got in my way, I reduced all these high-minded concepts to banal and down-to-earth interests. Percentages of reserve saved, percentages of increased mirror output, percentages of tension removed from Tia holding the ritual constructs, and the same percentages that increased the likelihood that Losius wouldn't drown in the sky blue without being able to swim out. Such routine and simplistic thinking made it less nauseating, though at the cost of the Weaver's increasingly snide face in the invisible mirror, my face. Camrad_RIP 27.08.23 в 09:54 |
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The first was a fat but not obese moneylender and his eldest and middle sons. They loved the essence of debt slavery as much as any other moneylenders, but these were the ones who operated in the black, albeit quietly. Selling beautiful girls to brothels for debt was quite a common practice for this fraternity. Even on Earth, this practice was also common, albeit much rarer. What about Alurei with its rejection of human (and non-human too!) rights? But this family had a rather close and carefully concealed connection with a couple of almost officially existing dark guilds. Or miniature cults, as the case may be. Camrad_RIP 27.08.23 в 09:59 |
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They were invited to participate, but they were in no hurry to commit themselves, as they see their power in gold, not in high levels and powerful magic. Both sub guilds signed contracts with two (each gathering has its contractor) rather strong astral entities of dark shades, quite fruitfully feeding them with living people and getting from that quite specific gesheft. The right to summon a retinue of these spirits, each of which pulled on a strong and very variable epic, rare semi-material reagents dragged from the Astral, a stream of filtered experience, or even a couple of free stats. It's quite profitable, especially if it bypasses the large orders, which will rip off the lion's share of the benefits people receive, and the spirits can be forced to a much less favorable contract for the spirits. And so - everyone is happy, everyone is in business, except for the victims. Camrad_RIP 27.08.23 в 10:17 |
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Again, selling a living for meat was not a low point by local standards, no matter how sickening the phrase sounded, even if they usually sold slaves or criminals rather than debtors, but again, nothing unusual. If it weren't for the fact that the Spars family often made loans in such a way, the debt could not be repaid. Not outright kidnapping, although they'd stoop to that sometimes, but close to it. And they would seal the contract on a special ritual stone that both powerful spirits had worked on a little at a time. These stones, in addition to imposing contract magic, also scanned the shell of the promisee, looking for areas that would be the spirits most pleasant to taste. Needless to say, few who took the loan had time to pay, avoid a sudden robbery, did not disappear, leaving the house or something like that. And since such tasty mortals were few, while with the rest of the debtors, the family behaved relatively (relative to other moneylenders, of course) honestly and even gave a slightly lower interest. There was no shortage of customers, and bad rumors remained bad rumors. Camrad_RIP 27.08.23 в 10:21 |
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With the lightest of manifestations, I dispel a few simple protective charms on the house, slip inside, and immediately knock out all three of the intended ones with Dream's help without even showing my face. I wrinkle my face under the mask and stop for a second, dropping a tiny shard of mirror next to the youngest child of the gloomy family. He's just a teenager who hasn't been initiated into the family business. Not from the desire to keep the child from the dirt of life but because there was no place for him in the business, and they did not want to breed competition for the older sons. The boy, by the way, is developing into an artist, so let him develop... if he survived the fall of the city and survived the jackals who wanted to take away the bloody inheritance. Camrad_RIP 27.08.23 в 13:59 |
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The shadowy limbs grabbed the trio, and then I wrapped them in Aegis, stealing their shadows and, at the same time, literally nullifying the captives' weight and inertia and transferring them to myself. Then I rush back to the turret, taking full advantage of stealth, dragging its effects over the motionless bodies of the trio in the same way. I press down on top of them with the effects of un-existence for fear of exposing my burden to the sensors of enemy charms. Dream would have been better, but it's risky to mix plans, especially in yourself, without an adapter. Camrad_RIP 27.08.23 в 14:09 |
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When I came back, I found a working environment. It was not surprising. Hestia, who had already taken a misty form and lost most of her human appearance, was slowly spreading the fog, careful not to take it outside the dome of mirror protection. Tia chanted in Elvish, making a multitude of marks all over the inner surface of the defeated representation with her dagger, her bare hands, and even with her simple will, preparing the ground for the future ritual. Losius meditated silently, trying not to disturb Hans and Taria, dragging mirrors pulled from neighboring houses. Fortunately, the neighborhood, though far from central, was a wealthy one built mostly of trading houses and the homes of wealthy townspeople or merchants, and there were enough mirrors to make it easy to find them. Camrad_RIP 27.08.23 в 14:13 |
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I silently dump the moneylenders who have not woken up (and what would wake them up under my spells?) in a vacant corner. After that, I silently go away, not disturbing busy people to work. Tia's face is such that she can punch you if you try to distract her. My clairvoyance, enhanced by the mirror maze, finds a lot of targets with relative ease, and all I have to do is choose the most "worthy" ones, reach them, and bring them here. There are more than enough worthy people in this world in every way! Camrad_RIP 27.08.23 в 14:15 |
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This couple not only hid but also actively crawled away through the courtyards, logically wishing to be far away from the cluster of enemies, who did not even need to be seen, only the perceptible even to the most magically deaf troglodyte veneer coming at you in a suffocating shaft. Seventeenth and nineteenth levels, mutual love and respect, backed by long friendship and fruitful cooperation - just like Bonnie and Clyde, honestly. Their occupation also corresponded - robbery, murder, kidnapping for ransom, or delivery of kidnapped persons to customers. The sweet couple was not squeamish about anything, and they considered the notions of pity or compassion as linguistic terms only, and both had a good, relatively usual thugs, metropolitan education. They had long ago decided that in this world, only the two of them were worthy, and they were rightfully considered to be very badass personalities, even against the background of the city gangs. Camrad_RIP 27.08.23 в 10:23 |
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But their love, yes, their love was pure, sincere, and real. It had survived hundreds of hardships and dangers, the flames of bandit wars, the icy grip of the guards who had put a bounty on the couple's heads, and the copper pipes of too-rich booty, for which one would be tempted to cling to one's companion's throat. Such love, even if it plunges into the looking-glass with the lovers, will not dissolve at once, and the souls immersed in Dream will not float away like sugar in warm water but will last much longer, clinging to this love with pincers, not wanting to lose the only soul close to them. Camrad_RIP 27.08.23 в 13:57 |
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I dumped them on the heads of the last three, who had been dragged to another corner by someone who was cursing in Elvish so they wouldn't interfere with drawing the signs. Actually, Tia's scolding was understandable because the right ritual is not only signs and scribbles but also time, place, order of actions, and a lot of conditions, many of which should be prepared months or even years before the "H" hour. Now the elf had only knowledge, stubbornness, enthusiasm, and a lot of different essences given to her. For some village fertility ritual or even a perfectly serviceable temporary reinforcement of a group of adventurers, such a stockpile would be enough, especially with the skill and experience of a ritualist. For what did the isekai guy demand of her? Well, the task is comparable to the order to build a bicycle and dig a latrine with only a saw, a screwdriver, and two tons of raw iron. Anyway, the swear words in Elvish, which, even as swear words, are surprisingly poetic and sublime, are quite understandable. Camrad_RIP 27.08.23 в 13:47 |
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I bet my daggers - she wasn't swearing out of fear or anger, which had never undermined her self-control, but only so I could catch on to her words with clairvoyance and reflexively realize the full range of her disapproval, which she had no intention of hiding. She had learned her lessons, though! It is useless for Kostik to hint subtly and speak politely. He needs to inject the truth into his body at once with kicks! Camrad_RIP 27.08.23 в 13:48 |
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Twelve people, twelve destinies I had chosen for an unenviable role, without giving them the right to refuse it. And a dilapidated trading house, slowly transforming into something completely different, something that had no place in the world. We could be justifiably proud of how quickly we were able to accomplish this task because otherwise, it would have taken weeks, if not weeks, at least half a day of preparation and a much larger number of preparers. We did it in less than an hour and a half. Camrad_RIP 27.08.23 в 14:16 |
