Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

Har Ganthi was founded after the Great Sundering by the Dread Lords who participated in the Battle of the Blighted Isles. It is one of the northernmost settlements of the Duruchi in Naggaroth. It was founded because these Dread Lords feared that their failure would lead to terrible revenge from Malekith.

After that...

A Dreadlord named Selwyn built a castle when the settlement was first established, and a few years after the building was completed, he decided to add a lower level wine cellar.

As a result, when the workers dug down, they found a road... It felt a bit like a dark dungeon.

The paving stones, which had existed long before the workers arrived, resisted all attempts to remove them, including magic, so Theil ordered the workers to follow the road and see how far they could get, and in this way the workers arrived at the gate.

It's not just a little bit, it's just another copy of Darkest Dungeon.

As the workers observed the arch, a gust of wind rushed out of the gate, killing them instantly.

Zhumen, no one knows who built it or why it was built, but there is no doubt that it is immeasurable.

When Black Blade first learned the news, he was shocked: Cain was the elven god, how could the gate be built in this desolate land before the loss of Nagarythe?
Selvin believed that the gate was set up to await our arrival, a gift from Cain, so he told the priests of Cain's sect about his discovery. When the priests from Naggaroth saw the gate for the first time, they knew that from that moment on, the hill stretched forward, and everything on the hill must belong to Cain.

Soon after, Malekith handed Har Ganthi over to the Cult of Khaine.

From then on, this newly established settlement fell into madness.

Gradually, Har Ganthi became the religious center of Khaine's faith, with numerous shrines dedicated to the Slaughter Lord and presided over by a great tower-shaped temple. Here, countless sacrifices were brought to Khaine's altar, and after a great victory over Asur, Har Ganthi's soldiers dragged hundreds of prisoners to the top of the temple and beheaded them one by one in a pious ceremony.

As the bloody heads rolled down the stairs, the dark elves watching were extremely excited. From that day on, execution became an important entertainment in Har Gansi society, and beheading became the way to deal with all prisoners.

Each executioner carries a single scimitar, a ceremonial blade made by the executioner himself under the supervision of the forgers of Khaine's Temple. Once the executioner has learned the art of killing, his blade is forged, and the blade and the man become one. Some executioners prefer a heavier axe, others a rapier, depending on their skill and preferred killing method. Although they vary in design, these weapons are deadly on the battlefield, capable of breaking armour and breaking bones with a single powerful swing.

Then, the famous executioner Hal Gansey appeared.

The gates of Har Gansi have never been closed since they appeared, because the executioner's city is thirsty for flesh and blood. This is the city of Khaine, the seat of the secular power of the temple. There are only three kinds of people in the city: servants of the temple, guests of the temple, and sacrifices of Khaine.

Whether it is day or night, if a Duruchi is not blessed, once he is discovered, he will have only one fate, which is to be a sacrifice to the Lord of Murder. After all, the Duruchi in this city are all keen on devoting themselves to the God of Blood Hands.

Therefore, every stranger who enters the city must immediately report to the temple and accept the blessing of the witch spirit, otherwise he will die, just like a pass. On the way to the temple, it is best to pray to Kane not to run into anyone.

It’s dark… No need to close your eyes.

The Kane sect has moved from version 2.5 to version 3.0.

Of course, Dacius had never been to Hal Gansey, but he had a glimpse of the situation.

The Temple of Khaine in Naggarond stood in the twilight like the entrance to Hades, and its huge square seemed to swallow up the souls of all who entered. In the center of the square, a group of three-and-a-half-meter-high iron stakes were arranged with an eerie precision, forming a perfect octagon. The road leading to the temple passed through the center of the octagon, like a sacrificial passage, leading all hopes and fears to the dark end.

Each iron stake pierced through piles of corpses, black, withered bodies piled one on top of the other. The corpses were deformed and tangled, their hands and feet were roughly tied together, and the twisted and broken limbs silently told of the long torture the corpses had experienced before death.

As Dacus walked around, he looked for a moment. He could not tell which corpse was an independent individual. The corpses had merged into one, becoming a dark sacrifice that transcended the individual. Pale mold grew on the corpses, like a web woven by the god of death, emitting a faint glow, adding a touch of strange beauty to this horrific scene.

The air was filled with the stench of decay and blood, a nauseating smell that seemed to penetrate his skin and reach deep into his bones. The fresher corpses were still bloody, and the blood was flowing down the iron stakes, dripping into the pool of blood that had already solidified, staining the ground a deep black-red.

Occasionally, when the wind blows, the newly dead hung on the iron stakes will sway slightly, as if performing their last dance of despair on the stage of death.

What was even more chilling was that not far away, another fresh corpse was slowly hung on the iron stake. Two witch spirits howled and dragged a body that was still warm to the stake with joy, hooked the shoulder blade and thigh of the body with iron hooks, and lifted it up and hung it. The sound of the metal hook piercing the flesh and bones, and the sound of blood dripping on the iron stake, intertwined, like the mournful music from the underworld.

Morathi escaped, but her followers were not so lucky...

In the center of the square, there lay a man's body. His pale face was smeared with black blood, which made him look even more shocking. His hands were still tightly grasping the hilt of the sword. Even if his life slipped away, he refused to let go of the weapon in his hand.

He was wearing the clothes he died in, a simple black robe, but the robe was no longer pure. A deep wound ran through his body from shoulder to hip, and blood gushed through his clothes like a fountain, dyeing the black robe a glaring dark red.

Around the corpse, three witches slowly danced. Their dancing was strange but had a primitive allure. Their thick white hair fluttered in the wind like fluttering flags, seeming to echo some mysterious power.

Each witch wore a black pointed headdress, the dark edges contrasting with their naked and smooth bodies. Their curves were like carved works of art, shining with a cold temptation in the fading sunlight, sweat slid down their toned arms, and their white throats and full chests reflected a faint cold light, as if they were not mortals, but projections of some ancient existence.

Their eyes were as deep as pools of shadows, deep and disturbing, as if hiding secrets that could not be pried into. Their lips slightly parted, and they whispered ancient and powerful spells, the sounds seemed to vibrate in the air, surging around like a tide, making people feel a slight tremor on their skin. Their slender fingers were covered with black nails, like dark weapons, each of which exuded a cold threat.

As Daxus approached, their whispers gradually became sharper and echoed in the air of the square. It seemed that they were not just words, but injected chill and fanaticism directly into people's bones.

The Kane Temple was surrounded by roaring braziers, each of which burned with dark red flames, emitting a strong aroma and a burning smell. The rising smoke sometimes looked fuzzy and unreal under the light of the fire, and sometimes looked hideous like a demonic shadow, like a twisted ghost, shrouding the entire temple in a depressing atmosphere.

There is a deep arched niche between each brazier, and the niche is filled with gilded skulls. These skulls emit a strange luster in the dim light, and it seems that each skull carries the resentment of the dead.

Some more modest spoils were randomly piled up in a deep pit at the far end of the temple, seemingly forgotten on purpose, adding a touch of silent cruelty and indifference. The deep pit was dark and deep, as if it led directly to the land of Hades, attracting people's attention, but making people dare not take a second look.

Above the marble platform in the center of the temple, a layer of reddish steam slowly floated up and spread out like mist, reflecting a hazy blood-red halo.

The steam came from a huge knee-deep crucible in the center of the platform. The crucible was made of brass and covered with ancient and evil runes. An ominous liquid was boiling in the crucible, and the color of the liquid kept changing between blood red and pitch black. It made a sharp and piercing hissing sound when bubbling. Occasionally, a few streams of liquid splashed out like a gushing venomous snake, emitting a suffocating stench in the air.

The entire temple is filled with an invisible evil force, and every stone is permeated with an ancient and violent will to kill. This is not only a place of sacrifice, but also a place where life and death meet, despair and ecstasy collide. Everything is whispering and humming, telling of Kane's desire, the desire for blood and soul.

Fortunately, Daxus was used to big scenes and was able to hold his own, and Annasara beside him was even more accustomed to it.

On the high platform in the distance, a figure was elegant and cruel, with a long crimson silk belt wrapped around her slender waist, soft but heavy as if stained with blood. A dress made of golden skulls and curtains surrounded her soft and deadly hips, shining with a fascinating light.

Her upper body was naked, her skin was covered with sticky blood, telling Cain's oracle with every breath. Her long arms were elegant and slender, her fingers were as flexible as spiders, but they were soaked in blood, and every inch was stained with the mark of death.

Her slender throat was surrounded by a golden skull necklace, the golden light and blood color intertwined to create a suffocating gorgeousness. The golden rings inlaid with rubies on each wrist flashed a strange light, like a burning flame, symbolizing destruction and violence.

Under the angular headdress she wore, her oval face was cold and peaceful, like a perfect statue brought to life by the Blood God himself. That face was breathtakingly beautiful, but at the same time, like the Blood God's smile, seductive and deadly.

The air was filled with a sense of oppression, a supernatural force that made even the air tremble and twist.

Dacus stood not far away. Everything in front of him made his chest ache. His heart seemed to be clenched by an invisible hand, and his blood was as hot as magma. A tear silently slid down his cheek, like a suppressed emotion with nowhere to go, and could only turn into this short-term catharsis. The tear slid to the corner of his mouth, and he felt the salty taste, the taste of blood!
As the figure slowly approached, Daxus felt a chill rising from the bottom of his heart. The figure's eyes met his, and at that moment, time stopped.

Those were a pair of dead eyes, cold and ruthless, so deep that people could indulge in them, like an endless abyss.

Daxus clearly felt her desire, a pure and cold murderous intent, as if a cold breath was brushing across his skin, stripping him naked.

But he didn't have her gaze entangled like a chain, making him unable to move. His soul was not drawn by a twisted gravity, and he didn't give up the struggle and throw himself directly into the temptation of the figure's arms, sweet but deadly.

He knew clearly that if the figure came closer, he would surely die, because the figure's eyes told him everything.

This was the second time that Dacus had seen Hellebron. "Boy, you do look like him, but you are not him, not him!" After looking at him for a while, Hellebron said coldly, with a hint of disdain in her tone, but also a hint of complex emotions.

"A gift for you."

Daxus ignored Hellebron's opening remarks. He knew who "he" was, but the topic did not interest him. Did he really expect Hellebron to call him "Dad" when she was sober?
Then, he wrote the whole script with Alain Drian in his hands, giving Hellebron two big bangs? The problem is that Alain Drian has never played a role like this before, and this script is wrong.

Or, tell Hellebron how Alandrian died? The problem is that Hellebron doesn't care.

He and He Liben were relatives, but he really didn't know how to address them. This kind of relationship gave him a headache. So he simply said nothing and took out the gift he had prepared long ago.

"What is this?" Hellebron took the gift and looked at it carefully. The delicate box looked awkward in her bloodstained hands, but it also had a strange harmony. After a moment, her eyes showed a hint of contemplation and nostalgia, and her tone softened: "Where did you get it?"

"Aiso Talarion, I went to Elsin Alvin not long ago to do some business and brought it back." Daxus's tone was understated, as if he was talking about something insignificant.

"Why is the Chief Archon running there?" Hellebron looked up at Dacun, her expression changing from confusion to a complex emotion, a mixture of blame and a barely perceptible concern.

"Someone has to deal with some old things, besides..." Although his tone was a little harsh, Daxus could sense the faint but real concern in it. He smiled and did not answer directly, but shrugged lightly. Then, he paused, his eyes locked on Hellebron's face, "There are some things there that are worth my trip."

Hellebron looked down at the gift in her hand, her fingertips gently stroking the pattern on the lid, and was silent for a moment. Then, she showed a faint smile, although it was not obvious, but in Daquus's eyes, it was enough to show that her heart was not calm.

Daxus stopped briefly at Aesop Talarian before landing at Elsin Arwen. (Chapter 235)
Genevieve, who had climbed onto the boat, handed him a ruby ​​pendant that was obviously very old. At the time, he felt that this pendant with a gold chain was unusual. Colonia also confirmed his guess from the side. Judging from the decorative style, it should be a unique product of the colony before the Great Split. Afterwards, he put away this ordinary pendant with no magical reaction, and planned to give it to his relatives in Har Gansi when he returned to Naggaroth.

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result……

"This is Lyris's pendant."

"?"

Daxus was stunned. This world is big, but there are many coincidences. The cylinder that Ryan got from gambling in Middenheim put him in touch with the red dragon, and the pendant that Genevieve was looking for happened to be Lyris's.

"For a while, Lyris and I were imprisoned separately by our father." Hellebron's eyes gradually dimmed, as if she had penetrated time and looked into the distant past. "I was imprisoned in the manor in the south, and she was imprisoned on the cliff in the north. The cliff was huge, and was hit by waves all day long, with deafening sounds. I gave her the pendant, and she..." She paused, lowered her eyes, trying to suppress some emotions, "She threw it into the sea in torture."

Dacius looked at Hellebron and moved his lips, but he didn't know what to say.

"So, tell me, little one. Why did you come to me?" Hellebron suddenly raised her head, her eyes returned to her usual coldness, and her tone was filled with scrutiny.

"I need your help with something!"

Hellebron's eyes changed slightly, obviously not surprised, but she did not respond immediately. She looked at Dacus for a moment, with a hint of tentativeness and inexplicable emotions in her eyes.

"Gorrond!"

"Did Malekith agree?" Hearing this, Hellebron raised her eyebrows, a disdainful smile appeared on the corner of her mouth, and she laughed twice, with a cold sarcasm in her laughter, as if the name Gorond itself was a ridiculous joke. She asked slowly, her tone full of ridicule and disdain, as if she was mocking a stupid decision.

"Yes, he agreed."

"Heh." Hellebron's laughter became colder and colder. She fiddled with the ruby ​​pendant in her hand, as if it was just an insignificant toy. Her eyes were like a sharp sword, piercing through Dacus and reaching the invisible distance behind him. After a moment, her gaze fell back on Dacus, and a sarcastic arc appeared at the corner of her mouth. The playful smile was as sharp as a blade.

"It's really strange. Let me guess. You were the one who persuaded him, right? Little boy, did you describe a grand future for him? Or did you weave a beautiful dream that just happened to touch his twisted heart? Otherwise, I don't believe that the Oedipus complex... would agree to such a thing."

Hellebron spoke her last few words very slowly, each word drenched in malice.

Dacius was silent for a moment. He did not argue, but just looked back at Hellebron calmly, his expression as calm and composed as always.

"Grond... you want to make up for the mistake you made thousands of years ago in this way now? Childish!" Hellebron shook her head slowly, the mockery in her eyes did not fade at all, and even revealed a hint of hatred. Her tone suddenly became cold, with some long-suppressed anger and dissatisfaction.

"Malekis, he hasn't changed! A coward before, a coward now. He never wants to admit his cowardice, but always does what a coward would do! Always deceiving himself, always... trying to cover up his failures with those useless tricks. He holds the scepter, but he can't even figure out who his enemy is! Or..."

Hellebron's eyes locked on Darkius once again, her tone low and dangerous.

"You think I'm wrong? Malekith and his mother are simply a pair, a coward who dares not admit himself, and a venomous snake who lives in his own lies!"

“You can choose not to participate.”

"Not participating? Daxus, I really don't know whether you are ignorant or just pretending to be stupid. Don't you understand? Or... didn't you tell him?" Hellebron stared at Daxus, her eyes as cold as a knife. Then she looked at Annasara who had remained silent, with a sarcastic smile on her face. "Not participating means waiting to die, at least for you. If that bitch regains her foothold in Gorond, do you think you will still have a chance to stand here and talk to me?"

"You know my purpose. Morathi must die! And I need your help to ensure this."

"The death of that bitch? This is an attractive topic. But why do you think I will help you?" Hellebron raised her eyebrows slightly, with a hint of sarcasm in her eyes.

"Because you know, as well as I do, that she is a threat. As you said, she never hides her desires, lurking among us like a venomous snake, waiting for an opportunity to strike. Her existence is a hidden danger to you, as long as she is alive..."

"You know her very well... You are right. I will not deny that she is a threat to me if she is alive. But if I want to help you, I have one condition."

Daxus nodded.

"It's a joke that there is anyone in this world who hates Morathi more than me. Gorond, I will come! But it's for Morathi! I must take her life myself!" Hellebron's tone was cold and firm, with an almost cruel expectation in her eyes.

"Okay, Morathi is yours!" Daxus looked at Hellebron for a moment, then nodded slowly.

"You're so straightforward."

"Morath must die. This is my only position. As for how she dies or who kills her, I don't care." Dacus's tone was calm, but it revealed his unquestionable determination.

"Very well, then let's cooperate for once." Hellebron's voice cut through the air like ice, carrying with it endless anger and determination.

The cooperation was reached, and Daxus had no intention of staying in the Temple of Khaine. He and Hellebron had nothing to talk about. Should they sit together and have a meal like a family? Talk about their experiences in Elsing Alvin? Eat while watching those religious lunatics kill people? He couldn't do it. He wasn't that good at it yet.

"Are you ready?" After getting away from the range of Cain Temple, Annasara glanced at Daquus with a calm and inquiring look in her eyes.

"Yes, not only Moras, our relatives must die too!" Daxus stared at the corpse being dragged by the witch spirit in the distance, his eyes as cold as ice.

"It's an interesting situation between us, the Cult of Cain, Morathi, and the Chaos forces entrenched in Gorond... My dear Daquus, you always bring me surprises." Anasara smiled lightly, with a hint of amusement in her eyes.

“No, no, no, my dear mother.” Daxus, like a son clinging to his mother, took Anasara’s arm and whispered in Anasara’s ear, “If possible, there are other things… but I’m not sure now.”

Anasara slowly turned her head and glanced at Daquus, her eyes deep and meaningful.

"I am looking forward to it even more." (End of this chapter)