Chapitre 3: Chapter Three
Stick close by; safeguard on back, forty riders
went with Vilyánur into the thick wildernesses,
jogging through scarcely noticeable backwoods ways for
hours endlessly. The further they wandered
into obscure region, the more the dell shut
them in, replenishing them with the fragrance of death
what's more, rot.
The whistling steppe breeze fell once again into
namelessness, supplanted by the unfavorable stirring
of the timberland overhang, the streets blurred beneath
thick undergrowth, and the extended lengths
of green were supplanted by dull patches of
dark parasites - as though advance notice them
not to unpleasant continue further into this
land.
They were currently in the edges of the
timberlands of Angdor, the domain of the awful
wood-mythical people who were known for excoriating
gatecrashers alive and taking care of their cadavers to
wolves. The actual idea of that incited dread
among the knights, yet not Vil, he knew the
backwoods pretty much.
"Get out whatever
you need," a knight talked behind
them, "I want to believe that we don't cause problems,
I'm not bold enough for governmental issues."
"Fret not," another knight replied, "this is
worldwide domain, the two realms concur."
"That is not the very thing I dread," said the main knight,
"these grounds are worldwide for movement
furthermore, business, not by regulation. What if some
sick gets accused on us? How might we authenticate
to a wood-elven people groups, whose court
procedures we have little information about?"
"You can definitely relax, my uncle's insurance has arrived,"
Vil embedded, "presently hmm up, we have what is going on
to research."
Thus they went ahead, their steppe ponies
battling to track down balance among the thick
undergrowth. One can never preclude the trepidation
of being knocked off, nor the sensation of being
watched.
Where the meteor handled, the woodland appeared
to have withdrawn from. Hedges and trees
close to the cavity lay wilted and scorched, as though
struck by fierce blaze; the earth that lay underneath
has become dark and hot, looking like volcanic
debris; the air around the meteor murmured as it
cooled.
"My master?" a knight looked towards Vilyánur,
just to see a face that shouted fear.
"This is no customary meteor," he said. "It's
an envoy of disorder, the epitome of
represented jumble. This isn't great, bad
by any means."
The entire troop tumbled to quiet.
"We should leave currently, we'll be fortunate in the event that we
experience any wood-mythical beings currently," said Glarion.
"Okay, for once, I concur," Vil answered, "we should
leave."
Paying attention to his words, the troopers arranged
to leave for home. Following the imprints made
by horseshoes back, they wandered up the
divine beings spurned way, however it appears destiny had
different designs for them.
"Falter," a knight halted them, telescope to
his eye. There was some unsettling influence up the
roadway. "Something's wrong."
"Foes?" asked Vil.
"Negative," said the knight, "no development in
sight, yet there is something that wasn't there
previously."
"What was?"
"A carriage," the knight replied, "conceivably
voyagers, however it looks deserted."
"Indeed, that is our main way home, so we should go compensation
them a visit."
The warriors gestured, following Vil into the
scene of interest.
Shutting in with the scene, they observed a truck
loaded down with iron and fur, laying on its side as
whenever pushed over by an extremely impressive storm, and a
extremely particular hurricane as well, thought Vil. A wood-mythical person
laid close to, a young fellow mythical person - as inert as
a month-old carcass, injured by odd
wounds, something that looked like being
cut open by a hot blade. His pony met the
same destiny.
"Knights," Vil called out, "be careful,
something foul stays in the forest here."
His entourage gestured, completely looking at the
body. The waves from the meteor strike, some
of the knights closed.
"Not likely, for I'm uncertain assuming that the waves would
do this farther," said Vil, "the remainder of
the woodland appears to be safe, regardless of whether enormously
avoided, as though injured by original powers."
"Perhaps the meteor siphoned their lives,"
proposed Glarion, looking seriously unto
Vilyánur, "or perhaps abhorrent monsters?"
"Indeed, the latter..." Vil said awfully, "...I wish
it's not what I dread."
"What do you fear, my ruler? Also, what has that
to do with this?"
"I've battled such a large number of daemons to not be aware
their quintessence, I dread... perhaps 'tis just an
cosmic irregularity, or perhaps... what do indeed
we do now?"
"Perhaps we ought to research further, or at
least caution Lord Arvedui of this?" asked Sir
Glarion.
"Assuming it were that simple, Sir Glarion, however do you
consider thousands years of question between
the wood-mythical beings and the high-mythical people will let this
cautioning go everything except unnoticed?"
"Forsooth...but what can really be done?"
"I figure we ought to "
He quieted. Dour vibrations transmitted from
the timberland floor, Vil's ears got the sound of
hooves - some of ponies, others of elks, and
the weak snarling of wolves blended in with them.
Furthermore, there it was somewhere far off: wood-mythical beings,
men of the ruler. Prior to even the high-mythical beings
could respond, the wolf-riders jumped into
the woods prior to drawing nearer out and
encompassing the high-elven have from all sides,
removing their retreat.
"Damn it, that is another danger to manage
presently."
"Good tidings, fatigued explorers!" a mythical being clad in
silver on the back of a pale pony, an illustrious watchman,
addressed them in corroded aristocratic, "what brings
forty fine high-elven knights into our woods?
What do you figure gives you the right to
defile our holy forests and attack our
individuals?"
"We didn't kill them, you're making a
botch!" Vil called out serenely, "I and my
brethren detected a meteor arrival by the
borders. We were going to leave however at that point "
The illustrious gatekeeper giggled. "Do you think we
are so absurd to be persuaded by your senseless
stories?"
"We're not lying! We can show you the site of
the meteor's accident."
"On the off chance that you're honest, you'll be saved. Be that as it may
for the time being, you're our detainees. Accompany us to
the ruler and there we'll choose your sentence - the homicide of honest people ordinarily conveys the
sentence of death."
"As though some other wrongdoings have substitute
sentences," chuckled Sir Glarion in an unconventional
way.
"Goodness, you're committing an error," expressed Vil with
a flood of his hand, "we're not accompanying
you, we don't have to. We'll simply leave
what's more, you'll imagine you never saw us."
The watchman winced, "your enchanted won't work
on me, absurd spellsword. I'm an imperial watchman,
my force is unequaled. Furthermore, I will hold you in
guardianship paying little heed to what you guarantee."
Vil checked out at his entourage in scorn. However he
Didn't say anything, they knew what to do.
"Despite the fact that I really want to fight you,"
Vil grasped his sword, "o sir knight, what
trust do you forty ragpickers have against my
tip top powers? What compels you think 'tis wise
to build strawmen of us? I and my entourage
are learned in the specialty of fighting, we are the
realm's world class - I, Vilyánur Sarmäcil, am
known all over "
The illustrious watchman got a handle on his blade, "and I'm
a regal watchman and I know how to manage
hoodlums."
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone