Islaan is an experienced warrior. When everyone was frightened by the sudden change, he was the only one to move forward quickly and with exquisite sword skills, he swung his sword to block the weakest demon's broadsword. a little bit. But even so, he was knocked away by this strong demon's sword.
The demon strode down from the altar, smiled arrogantly, and raised his huge black two-handed sword above his head. A sword struck the second-placed Brightonian Xi Lang.
However, due to the timely response of the Redguards, the half-elf finally recovered from the shock. He raised the Vamer dagger and blocked it in front of him.
when.
The two swords, one large and one small, collided violently together, making a huge noise that made the half-elf's eardrums buzz. The huge force directly pressed down the dagger in the half-elf's hand, and the vicious blade cut into the half-elf's shoulder.
The half-elf let out a scream.
The ascetic roared angrily, swung his heavy battle ax, passed over his fallen comrade, and slashed at the enemy.
But the demon flew up and kicked the half-elf hard in the abdomen. The red-haired Breton fell heavily off the altar. Then the giant sword spun and fell, and then cut across to the left, just in time to block the heavy battle ax in the hands of the roaring ascetic monk.
"Your struggle is doomed to be in vain!" The demon laughed, an orange-red light erupted from the broadsword in his hand, and the ascetic monk Dulan was knocked away without a word. "My Lord has known your conspiracy for a long time! Scream! Children of light, this is where you will die! Your blood and fear are the sweetest sacrifices I offer to my Lord!"
The hoarse and sharp voice of the powerful enemy from the plane of annihilation echoed in the empty hall, like the god of death grinning. His huge body and the vicious iron armor on his body were like the most gloomy fear, occupying everyone's hearts.
Islaan only felt a tearing pain in his chest, and his hands were sore and weak, but he still managed to get up. He knew it was a trap. But the Red Guards refused to admit defeat. He squatted down quickly, his knees groaning under the weight. Then quickly rush towards the enemy again.
The braziers around the altar allowed his eyes to see the enemies standing on the altar.
"You and your despicable and sinister master will not succeed!" He shouted angrily, stepping into the attack range of the broad sword in the hands of this powerful demon. The enemy laughed wildly, swung the huge magic sword, and whizzed down on his head.
Islaan did not blink, as if the giant sword that was about to cut him in half did not exist at all - he was not seeking death, but was full of confidence in his companions - which made the demons feel a little doubtful. Then he realized immediately that he was playing into the Redguard's ploy.
"Psychokinesis!" The half-elf reluctantly raised his fingers and chanted a spell quickly. The broad sword in the enemy's hand immediately seemed to be suspended, suspended in the air in front of him.
The Red Guards bullied him into his arms with firm eyes.
The demon immediately let go of the hilt of the sword and waved his blade-covered forearm in front of him.
Islaan cursed loudly in surprise and pain. The half-inch-long blade tips on the enemy's iron gloves blocked the Red Guard's full blow. The two collided and made a loud sound of gold and iron.
Click.
The tip forged from ebony rock cut off the Vamer dagger that had been struck by the enemy's broadsword, and Islaan could only roll out of the dangerous range. Only to avoid being cut in half by the sharp blade on the enemy's strange and brutal armor.
Because the enemy's armor was too heavy, the demon had to bend down sharply to catch the Red Guard, but the enemy grinned ferociously and raised his feet to step on Islaan, who was lying on the ground. go.
At this moment, a dagger stabbed into the small gap between the knees of the demon's thick armor like a ghost. The dagger severed the Annihilation creature's tough Achilles tendon, destroying its center of gravity. The enemy missed the target, and the Red Guards narrowly escaped death.
"Shameless little thief!"
The demon let out an angry shout.
Yes, it was Nargis who escaped into the shadows when the war broke out in the end.
We know that this Nord assassin's heart has been wavering between hesitation and determination, simply because this is his nature. Not even Turka Aracano could completely change this. But fate has involved him in the stormy waves of light and darkness. How can he survive alone?
In the shadows, Nargis witnessed the half-blooded Breton man who had obviously lost too much blood and still managed to recite the last spell; he saw the ascetic monk lying on the ground not knowing whether he was alive or dead; and the Red Guard man He bravely launched an almost fatal charge against the powerful demon!
As a result, courage and a bright side sprouted in his heart. Although this light is as small as a candle in the wind——
"Only the web spinner! I must be crazy!"
Nargis screamed in his heart and quietly came behind the enemy, looking for an opportunity to strike a fatal blow. But he suffered from the fact that the enemy's brutal armor was too tight--finally, the skilled assassin's eyes lit up, and the dagger in his hand pierced into the gap that seemed impossible to ordinary people like a poisonous snake.
The demon who was half kneeling on the ground waved his hand and grabbed the one-eyed assassin who was sneaking up on him. But Nargis, who was hit by the blow, quickly let go, retreated, and quickly hid in the darkness.
By the gods, I did what I could.
The assassin hunched over and breathed as calmly as possible, letting his heartbeat slow down. He looked at the battle situation on the altar with an expressionless face, and quietly moved toward the exit with the help of the memory in his mind.
***
Ulfric didn't know how long he had been unconscious. The elf with blond hair and blood-red eyes was an expert at tormenting people. She found every sensitive spot on the unfortunate prisoner's body, hitting and picking at it, and even raked the most painful spots with a sharp torture instrument. . She kept Ulfric in a semi-conscious state, never allowing him to resist, but still awake enough to feel every pain.
The Ancestral China has been trying to ask some secrets from him - the secrets of the Skyrim Legion, the emperor's secrets and even the secrets of the Eastern Territory.
But the stubborn Ulfric kept gritting his teeth and didn't say a word.
He was hung on the enchanted shackles. The hard handcuffs not only cut his wrists, but the handcuffs that blocked the magic metal forging also blocked the flow of magical power in his body. He can no longer use Tum's power. The muscular body was covered with all kinds of shocking scars.
But this was not the most painful thing for him. What hit young Ulfric the most was that he was defeated and shamefully captured. For the first time in his life, Ulfric doubted whether death was better than survival. better.
He desperately longed to escape this world, to escape his painful body. He prayed to the heroic spirits of his ancestors, prayed to Shu'er, and hoped to enter the paradise of all Nords - the Hall of Valor! But someone roughly grabbed his hair and pulled him back. He struggled to see clearly through his blurred, bruised eyes. A male voice he heard.
A bottle was pressed to his lips and his head was turned aside so the contents could be poured down his throat. Ulfric resisted instinctively, thinking it was poison or a potion that would make him delirious. He spat some out, was punched until his head hit the wall, and was given more of the sour potion.
Ulfric felt like his whole body was burning, as if his limbs were on fire. Believing that this was the last moment of his life, he struggled hard to get rid of the hard chains, and then succumbed to exhaustion, waiting for death to come.
The burning sensation suddenly turned into a sweet feeling; Ulfric suddenly felt stronger, his eyes gradually subsided, and his vision became clearer. Only then did he realize that what the man fed him should be healing potion.
"I admire your will," Grand Duke Nayalifen stood in front of him, with a hint of respect on his sinister face, "Ulfric Stormcloak!"
The Grand Duke wore an extremely exquisite robe, with a crown on his forehead and a golden sword hanging on his waist. He looked more like a noble than a priest. Most people don't know that he is actually a high priest of Boethea.
Ulfric looked at him with a mocking smile on his face.
"But that ends here." The respect on the face of the supreme commander of the Ancestral Divine Land Expeditionary Force turned into contempt, and his tone returned to that condescending tone, the arrogant tone that belonged exclusively to the elves. "You may be able to endure the physical pain, but can you refuse the mental charm?"
A hooded guy stepped forward.
After getting the Grand Duke's permission, she took off her hood, revealing a long, narrow, pale face.
Ulfric's expression finally changed.
Because there seems to be a group of stars that are always spinning in this man's eyes, psychedelic but deadly.
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