Chapter 233: There Is a Mandela Who Loves to Take a Bath

Our Gomor, dirty and desolate, gathers witches who dance on blades and blood relatives who drink fine wine to enjoy the essence of life. The petty struggles of power never end, shrines and muses, poisons and curses, Hecate holds up the bloody crystal cup and cracks the slave's spine with a long whip.

The sarcophagi are arranged in concentric circles, and the statues are hidden in cocoons and raw red meat. For tens of thousands of years, we have smashed the statues of the old gods and worshipped our sinful poison king Shameish as a new idol.

However, today, the age of the gods has long ended, and the stage of the muses is also buried deep in the muddy past of the dark city.

When my people died and lost their souls in the great disaster, I was lucky enough to survive because of the great fall.

On that day, the birthday of the hungry her, I lay on the altar as a sacrifice, watching the obsidian dagger fall from my chest and touch my heart lightly: the scream of the end of the old history happened to absorb the dark soul of my former master.

I looked up at the black sun, lamenting that the current situation allowed me to survive, just as the dark muse had mercy on the eternity I would have.

I saw a dark age coming; while the palaces of the nobles and the halls of the church were still repeating the stupid and arrogant power games of generations, screaming for the ridiculous and ridiculous petty fights within the class, I saw that the power vacuum of Gomor and even the entire Eldar had been created with the fall.

I will pave my stage with blood, even if I was once just a lowly slave. I have nothing in my hands, but I am hungry.

In my plan, nothing can bring more wine of fear than the deep kiss of the blade on the flesh.

He also understood this. My bloody accomplice, lover of murder and suffering, the blade that quenches the blade's thirst, the marquis who fell with the twilight from a star higher than the black sun.

Konrad Curze. 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 leather nailed to the walls, spitting at the broken bones and soft flesh in the way, chasing the blood everywhere to find his scent. Blood and viscera splattered all over my pointed boots.

This is exactly his style, leaving no one alive wherever he goes.

Konrad has an equal hatred for the whole world, and he never hesitates to release this strong emotion that rolls in his huge and perfect body a thousand times on the twitching corpses in every violent act. The thickness of emotion contained in his chest is enough to surprise even any Eldar.

In his own words, there were not ten innocent people in the whole of Gomorrah, so when people were feasting, fighting, resenting, and calculating, Konrad Curze did not mind killing every one of them.

The rare creatures originally imprisoned in the iron cages hanging in the air of the mansion were released. The meters-long wings of the leather-winged birds, blood-clawed birds, iri-winged clawed birds, wasps, rare white rooks, shadow crows, and ymga shrikes[1] gathered in the hall into a violent dark cloud.

It took me some time to deal with them, and I was in a trance and returned to the bottom of the zoo in the arena, back to the past when I still had to fight to prove my worthiness to survive.

I hope this is not Konrad deliberately looking for trouble with me, but that he has found another way to provoke or play with me in the covenant. He knows that I will never allow a rift in the relationship between us. This bloody marquis is my only joker at the moment.

I walked through a series of halls, listening to the crisp sound of my boots in the remnants of onyx, turquoise, amethyst and emerald, and I did not deny the pride and pleasure I felt when I trampled on privileges.

I had groveled, humbled, imprisoned and bound, and barely survived. So did Conrad.

Perhaps this is why we hate each other.

Soon, I heard a faint sound of water.

As expected, Conrad Curz would not change his unreasonable habits.

While we are proud of the sensitive senses of our race, Conrad Curz's innate and more acute senses show their undisguised superiority. He heard my footsteps or smelled my scent before I did.

"Victor," Conrad Curz called my name, "you are here, my ally."

-

Asdubal Victor found the indoor hot spring in the mansion. In the dim candlelight and the drooping black and red veil, he found Konrad Curze soaking in the cold spring water.

The Blood Marquis lifted up the clear water and washed his dirty black hair, and the ripples of blood slowly spread around his pale muscles.

He turned around in the water, lying on the edge of the pool, propping up his thin face. The dark eyes with oversized pupils were strangely embedded in his quiet expression, exuding an indescribable cold concentration.

"Your hatred is turning into blood that blocks your way, Konrad." The Eldar said, fiddling with the spherical skull picked up from the display case and throwing a bottle of blood wine picked up from the table to the Primarch.

The corners of Konrad Curze's mouth twitched nervously.

"I don't hate you," he whispered softly, breaking the neck of the bottle, and tasting the blood flowing from his thin lips while drinking in big gulps. "Pain is the only way to cleanse sin." Victor did not smile, he was too lazy to refute Conrad's self-defense. "Why don't you get out of your favorite bath, Blood Lord."

"Can't you see, Asdubar? The dirty blood of your kind is stained on the tips of my fingers. Coz shook his fingers in distress, even though there was no trace of dirt in the long nail gaps. "I Must wash my hands. And hair, hair is hard to clean, you should 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.

Konrad 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, take off your sin-stained boots. !”

"You're the savage Mandela, the venomous Ugul, the Lilith who takes ten baths a day," Victor frowned and dodged the half bottle thrown by Kurtz, "I'm here You worked hard to defeat our enemies and drown the nobles who stood in the way, but you came to slaughter an unplanned family name just to borrow their bath. "

Curze leaned down and stared at the Eldar's equally pale face, and suddenly chuckled.

He retreated behind the gauze and retrieved from the darkness the handmade tunic that he had sewn together dozens of pieces of extremely well-tanned leather. He tied the laces slowly until the scarred skin of the original was replaced by the warm skin of another species. Package covered.

Clear water flowed from the long black hair that had been carefully cleaned by the original body, soaking the leather on its shoulders and back.

"Sooner or later, this castle will be ruined by our plan. It just so happens that there is a very good bath here, Victor." Cozz said casually, "Didn't you take a bath the day you rolled off the altar?"

"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. A snake-like smile hung on the corners of his lips, "The thirsty one It brings the soul's desire for a gluttonous feast, but my flesh and blood is also in urgent need of food. I didn't take a bath, so what does it matter?"

"Hunger cannot be satisfied with blood, and pain cannot eliminate the consequences of the curse." Cozz half-singed and half-hummed briskly, "Death does not exist and is isolated from our world..."

"Death is rare for nobles. They have defeated death and regard death as a unique transit." Victor said, walking out of the water. Curze never minded being interrupted from humming, either stopping to answer or pretending to be deaf. "It's 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 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 sense of belonging and social isolation and group antagonism that proper names can bring. Konrad Coates clearly understands the prejudice and conflict that defining the boundaries of "us" and "them" can bring about.

"What is it?" Cozz said softly.

"Eldas Aeneas," Victor replied, running his fingers over the sharp shadow lines of the skull's eye sockets. 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, The name for the unparalleled criminal."

"We are alien to each other," Asdúbal Viktor said indifferently, "and you are even more alien to our world. That is why the Haemonculus, Hexakaris, captured you."

"Hexakaris is not dead." Curze said suddenly, his dark eyes unblinking, and the facial muscles that often twitched nervously remained silent, which 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 hand him over easily to the torture of Ms. Thirsty. Even if what he will encounter is not necessarily different, the person who performs the thing itself is also different."

Conrad Coates's speech became extremely clear, and 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, and tell him that this is just what he will face. Experience the most trivial prelude to the meal, study his convulsions, analyze his nerves, explore where the means of inflicting pain will reach the most exquisite perfection. How can I bear to let this sweetness fall into other people's bellies, Asdu. Baal Victor?"

"Narrow-minded, cold and violent," Victor praised sincerely, "Ambitious, greedy and selfish, a blood prince."

"And I don't hate this city, Viktor," Curze said, eyes narrowing, emphasizing his emotional state a second time, "I love it."

Victor threw the skull he was playing with into the bath. "Whether you hate it or love it, our road to rule is still long. We are 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 pinched a thin rectangular card from the sewn leather pocket with his fingers and threw it accurately 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 object 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." Cozi said with a low smile, "You may need it."

——

"I have imagined many different situations," Morse said, conjuring up a recliner made of rattan and sitting in front of the Eldar who had just decided to call himself the troupe leader a few days ago. "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 card's surface one stroke at a time.

The troupe's first performance was arranged by these fancy-dressed Eldar at a dance that was to be held by the Gomo Sun Church, and most of the invitations had been sent to the guests.

What Avatar is painting now is the last batch of invitations issued to small churches and noble families, such as the lower-level Gnosis Church, the Church of the Awakener, the Poisonous Heart Church, the Smega family, the Eli family, etc. Each of these small organizations will have little importance on Comor's 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 color-blocked floral uniforms with extremely bold colors.

In theory, this kind of attire may just mean their personal preferences; however, in reality, this group of guys has 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 miserable state of suspected zero income.

Through the curved observation window behind Avatar, Morse could estimate the projection that the floating Tuchucha should cast on the real universe. What this huge machine can manifest in front of the race 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 rejoicing because of the shipload of Eldar carried in it. The inspired soul echoes and sways with excitement.

And below the spacecraft, a faintly visible shadow lingered outside the webway, like a dying python, hungry and unbearable.

"The Void..." the Avatar said.

"I have a name," Morse said. "Call me Morse."

"Okay, Morse. Do you want to join us in the show, the Void One?"

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 (.)